The Island

The cards...

Characters: The Little Black Cat and The Late Night Talk Show Host.

Setting: A Remote Tropical Island.

Problem: They were out of food.

Resolution: A war was narrowly averted.

The story...

This one seems a little easy on the surface so let's warp it around a bit.

Spike was an arrogant little black cat. He had become successful by sheer chance and blind luck, but that didn't stop him from letting everyone know how great he was. His latest movie was at the top of the charts and he was also on the Billboard top ten with his gangsta rap album.

The fact that he was accident prone on camera and that had led to a reputation of doing his own stunts in his action flicks was a secret few knew. Most, if not all the crewmembers thought he had a knack for knowing just when to put in something physical. They just didn't know it was Mr. Magoo style.

His music career had started out dumpster diving for leftovers behind Capitol Records. In the midst of sampling the remains of the cafeterias clean up trays Spike had spotted a package of CD's. Thinking he could make a quick buck off of them the put them in his pocket for later. When he tried to sell them he was disappointed to find out that they weren't blank. As he was readying to throw them away in disgust another cat that had heard the CD walked up and gave him a card.

"If you want to make it big in the music industry kid, give me a call."

The rest was history. If Spike needed several collaborators (and they did most of the work) on his next albums, so what? He was an artist after all. Creativity has many levels.

There had always been rumors, the odd comment at a party or blurb in one of the lesser rags about whether Spikes talent was real or just luck, but these were minor, infrequent and without any impact.

Until recently that is. Spike was finding that he was often having to actually answer questions about it now and occasionally justify himself instead of just waving it off.

It sucked.

And that's how he had ended up on the remote tropical island with that irritating late night talk show host Maxmillian.

Max was a pure bred Persian from an east-coast line. He deigned to host a talk show because he felt that the public needed the kind of high-brow intellectual, no B.S. style only he could provide. Max liked to "Get to the bottom" of things and strove to give the public the "real" story. A kind of high class Jerry Springer meets Crossfire kind of thing, not that Max would ever agree to that description.

And Max had set his sights on Spike.

It started with jokes about Spike's "talent" during his opening monologues and slowly became an on going attack over everything Spike did. It had become so bad that Spike was forced to actually acknowledge Max's statements publicly and it had then turned into a nasty and bitter feud.

A month ago Spike had finally appeared on Max's show. They were to make amends and end their feud in front of a live audience. The ratings would be spectacular. A win-win deal for both of them.

That is until Spike's mouth wrote a check he didn't want to cash.

They had been talking about Gilligans Island of all things. The current rage of reality programs had led to someone actually using the idea in real life. Cats had been dumped on an island and left to survive in front of a camera crew and the last one standing would win.

Max and Spike had been discussing the stupidity of the castaways. Come on... the Professor can create a small nuclear reactor out of coconuts, but they cant nail a few pieces of wood over the hole in the boat and make it moderately leak proof? Get real.

Spike said he could survive just fine and probably even make it back home with fewer resources. It was all just bravado until Max called him on it.

"You really think you could?" Asked Max, causing mild alarm bells to go off in Spike's head.

"Umm... sure..." muttered Spike pawing at his collar.

"How 'bout we make something out of it?" Max purred. "I'll put together a film crew, find an island and then I'll join you to document your success." "I'm sure your fans would love it."

As the shrieks and catcalls reached a crescendo from the audience, Spike realized it was only going downhill. Trying desperately to wiggle his way out of the trap without looking like it only managed to get him stuck deeper. When the roaring in his head and the blur in his eyes finally cleared, Spike knew he was committed.

The media went crazy with the news and Spike's publicist used it to every possible advantage. Max's group also made good use of the free media time, building up the tension as to whether Spike would succeed at every opportunity.

By the time "C (for castaway) Day" came Spike's nerves were totally frazzled and he felt as if he had already lost one of his nine lives. Max however appeared to be smugly at ease. It almost seemed as if he expected Spike to call the whole thing off at the last minute and was preparing for the satisfaction of Spike's public ruin. He wasn't aware how terrified and backed in a corner Spike truly felt. There was no way to back out.

They met bright and early on a Saturday morning. After the weeks of preparation by Max’s staff everything was ready. A suitable island had been found and an appropriate boat had been acquired and stocked with the ubiquitous "three hour tour" of supplies. The media was out in force to document the beginnings of what was sure to be a ratings highlight for the summer. Everybody was excited. Except Spike. Although Max was starting to lose some of his smugness as departure time neared and there was less time for Spike to back out.

At the appointed time Max gave a speech regarding the rules and conditions of the deal and then he and Spike spent a few minutes answering questions from various reporters. After the media and all unnecessary crew had left the captain started the engines, blew the horn and set sights on the island with the support boat for the film crew and their supplies right behind.

A swarm of boats containing the media followed them out of the harbor angling for one last shot at some new angle on the story. There was going to be a defensive ring of patrol boats around the island to prevent outside interference. Since the island was in a remote area with no official government to answer to, rumor had spread that consequences would be dire for anyone crossing the boundary line. If the regular media didn’t get something now, they were going to be stuck with whatever Max’s team released as the days went on.

It took a day and a half to sail to the island. As they approached it they became aware of the patrol boats already on station. After clearing their way with the head of the patrol fleet they were allowed to pass and go into the lagoon.

The island itself was exactly as you would imagine. Palm trees, white sand, ferns, shells and driftwood. With the small mound of a long dormant volcano in the center and a nice curving beach around the lagoon they were currently in.

The captain put Spike at the helm and told him how to make it to land. Giving a final salute he and the skeleton crew then transferred to the support boat that carried the rest of the crew and shoved off to go ashore.

The film crew wanted to get footage of Spike and Max getting stranded on the island so they could use it for the opening credits of the show. When everything was set they radioed Spike and Max and told them to come in.

As Spike slowly advanced the throttles to take the boat through the lagoon and onto shore he heard a loud boom and the boat shook violently. The crew had rigged a small explosive charge on the bow of the hull and set it off remotely to simulate the damage to the Minnow. Rapidly taking on water, Spike jammed the throttles forward and ran the boat toward the shore to prevent her from sinking.

Max clung desperately to the rail trying not to get wet and wondering how he could have been so foolish as to put himself in this position. If he had ever really thought Spike would go through with this he wouldn’t have made the deal. Now he was truly stuck. There was no way his pride would allow him to back out.

Of course the fact that Spike was having the same thoughts never occurred to him.

Try as he might Spike just didn’t have the luck to get the boat completely on the beach. The pair was flung headlong out of the boat as it hit the bottom and came to a wrenching stop. Landing in the shallow waves lapping up the beach they did their best to walk on water and make it to dry land.

Coming to a stop a few yards into the dry sand Spike and Max stopped to catch their breath. Looking rather like wet rats they stared back at the boat resting in about six feet of water. It was going to take a lot more than a few boards and some crude waterproofing to get her back afloat.

As their situation was slowly sinking in they heard laughing in the distance. The film crew had managed to get it all on tape and were joking about how great it was going to look on screen. The action hero and the upscale talk show host looking wet, miserable and hopeless would be great for ratings. Their audience would never see either of them the same after this.

Sulking off to lick their wounds in private, Max muttered "Me and my great ideas. This is not even remotely how I wanted this to turn out."

"What was that?" asked Spike.

"Oh, uh, nothing... nothing..." said Max, "lets find some place to hole up and dry off before the film crew gets it together and sticks their noses up our butts."

"I thought that was a dog thing," said Spike, "but I guess anything is possible with that crew."

Max just sighed and headed farther into the vegetation.

After several minutes of looking they found a nice sheltered spot under a rock outcropping.

"This looks like a good spot to me Spike. What do you think?"

"Works for me, Max" and they proceeded to settle in.

Spike’s stomach growled. "I’m hungry, let’s see what there is to eat on this island."

"I’m with you on that!"

After about an hour of searching the pair found absolutely nothing to eat. There were no birds on the island as it was to far from any other land for them to fly. A few coconuts could be seen high in a few trees, but neither of them could climb the trunks without falling off before they made it to the top. There weren’t even any rats since this island had never been used as a stopover or hide away in early days of sailing. Seafood was out of the question since they both refused to get wet. That also precluded salvaging any supplies from the boat.

If they didn’t do something soon, they would probably starve.

As the pair contemplated their situation they could comfort themselves in the knowledge that at least the film crew hadn’t found them yet. Which also meant the crew couldn’t film how miserable they were.

It cooled off after dark and Spike and Max huddled together in their shelter. The hunger and helplessness led them to start commiserating with each other. They were surprised to find they shared common insecurities and were a lot more alike below the surface than either would have thought.

They laughed about the fact that it was only pride that had led them to their current situation. If either one had confided in the other this probably would have never gone as far as it did. But then again, they admitted to themselves, had that happened the other would have pounced on the situation and done their best to humiliate the "Fraidy Cat".

Egos, or lack there of, were not easy things to deal with.

By the time morning dawned Spike and Max had decided to team up and work to get the heck off the island no matter what. Since there was no way they could do it with what they had, they would have to acquire help. It wouldn’t do to admit failure on the first morning so they hatched a plan to get what they needed from the film crew to make their escape.

Spike went on a reconnaissance mission to see if he could find the crews base camp and whether the posted any guards. It took quite an effort to go undetected. The crew was still trying to find Max and him so they could get the footage they needed for the show and had several members actively looking for them. The crew’s camp was set up and in full operation. The remaining crewmembers that weren’t out hunting for Spike and Max were looking for materials to enhance the camp and wood for the fire.

When Spike made it back to the shelter he told Max about what he had found. The duo decided that if they provided a distraction it would ensure enough time to raid the crew’s camp for supplies and possibly steal the support boat.

They decided that it would be best to strike just before dawn. The crew would be tired after a night of carousing and it would still provide a little cover of darkness.

Max and Spike chewed on some vegetation to at least pretend their bellies were full and lay down to rest and plan.

When the pair deemed the time was right Max began to call out in a loud and forlorn voice. He had made sure he was just far enough away that the crew could hear him, but not tell exactly where the sound came from. Hearing the ruckus the crew began to investigate knowing it was either Max or Spike and worried that one of them might be injured.

As they headed off in pursuit of the sound Spike began to work his way to the camp. Meanwhile, Max was slowly moving away, drawing the crew along with him.

After a few minutes Max abruptly went silent and maneuvered himself to a hiding place he and Spike had found earlier. Going completely still he watched for the trailing crew as they split up to search for him. It was important that he kept the crew occupied for as long as possible, but he absolutely could not get caught.

"The plan is working exactly as we hoped" thought Spike as he watched the crew quickly abandon the camp. Waiting a few minutes to make sure all was clear, he slunk into the camp all eyes and ears. It wouldn’t do for him to get caught either.

Raiding the supply area Spike loaded as much food as he could into a makeshift package he and Max had made earlier out of a giant leaf. He then began dragging it out of the camp. Knowing it was leaving marks in the sand he headed for a grassy area and then changed direction to confuse the trail. Even though it was harder going Spike kept changing course and finding rocks and such to go over. Anything he could do to minimize or eliminate his tracks would surely be for the better.

It took several hours for Spike to circuitously make his way back to where Max was hiding. Max had only made it to the meeting place himself not long before.

They were both near exhaustion, but they quietly celebrated their success while they gorged themselves. Still trying to eat they both fell into a food induced coma. It was dark again when they finally came out of it. Neither knew how much time had passed, but they both felt much better for the food and rest. And they had managed to escape detection by the crew as well.

Life was good.

High pawing each other with newfound confidence, Spike and Max began to plot their next raid.

Spike had noticed that the keys to the support boat were not in it when he had checked out the camp during his raid. They decided that the head of the crew probably had them for safekeeping. They would have to find a way to determine exactly how the keys were kept if they were going to be able to steal the boat.

Over the next several days Spike and Max successfully raided the crew’s camp three more times.

On one raid Spike had stolen a pair of binoculars and a walkie-talkie. He and Max took turns mapping the island and keeping track of the crews movements.

Using that information they continuously moved their own camp and stayed to rocky ground to avoid leaving a trail. It was becoming harder to stash the supplies they had stolen without the crew finding them. Meanwhile the crew’s camp was getting smaller and smaller.

With Max’s help, Spike had managed to steal pretty much anything of use from the crew’s camp except for the keys to the boat. The crew was now in a desperate situation and Spike and Max were in Fat City. The duo decided it wasn’t so bad living on the island after all. Especially now that they had everything they needed.

After several days of island bliss the pair were getting lazy. Lazy enough that Spike was spotted on one of his scouting raids and trailed back to camp. It would cause them much trouble later.

Following Spike and Max’s example, the crew struck just before dawn. They came in fast and surrounded Max and Spike before they could even paw the sleep out of their eyes. Fortunately most of the stuff was stashed away from the camp so there wasn’t much for the crew to get.

As the crew circled them ready to fight to get the supplies back they realized that while they might win this battle, they would surely lose the war. They had been lucky so far, but there was no way they could hold out against the crew for very long. Spike and Max were seriously outnumbered. The crew was too tired and hungry to fight effectively. Even if Max and Spike did manage to keep the supplies the crew were desperate enough to push on until they dropped. It would only get uglier and it was in every body’s best interest to stop the war before it started.

Max was the first to try and make peace. Fast-talking the crew as he and Spike slowly turned, back to back, watching the angry cats creeping in for attack. They were half crazed with hunger and both Max and Spike knew how they felt. After all, they had been there themselves not that long ago.

It took some serious diplomacy on Max’s part, along with a few bribes, to get the crew to calm down and the gleam in their eyes to dim. Eventually they all gathered around a campfire and had a round table discussion while eating some food that Spike had brought out of hiding.

Both groups wanted to cover their hides about what had truly happened on the island. They were all ashamed of their behavior and embarrassed by how easily they had been outsmarted by each other. Luckily no film had been shot since they landed on the island. The crew had been to busy dealing with Spike and Max to take any footage initially and then too unwilling to document the situation later.

It was decided that both groups would put aside their differences and work together.

Over the next few days Spike and Max acted out scenes for the camera to “document” their survival, while behind the scenes they plotted with the crew on how to make everybody look good. Each evening they would play back the day’s footage and critique it. Adding and subtracting here and there until it was just the way they wanted it.

When they felt that they had enough island footage they planned the final scenes where Spike and Max would leave the island. The director had remembered that there was a time clause in part of the deal. If Spike and Max survived for at least one month it would be declared that they had successfully survived and could call it quits with no repercussions. In three days it would be exactly one month since they had set paw on the island, so the group settled in to an easy rhythm of rest and relaxation while they waited it out.

On the night before the departure they finalized their plans for the morning shoot and went to sleep early to be well rested for the big day.

Just after sunup the crew filmed Spike and Max approaching the camp. Delivering his lines flawlessly, Max stated that he and Spike had obviously met the survival criteria and could they now go back to civilization? They then went through a scripted question and answer period where Spike and Max were able to tell their tale of survival and the crew was able to show how impressed they were. It would be fabulous for ratings and raise the status of all involved.

When the interviews were over the crew staged a celebratory party for the heroes. It wasn’t hard for everyone to act grateful or impressed after the ordeal they had all gone through. Later critics would comment that it was some of the most "real" reality footage they had ever seen.

Later in the day after everything had been packed up and loaded on the support boat, Spike, Max and the crew bid a final farewell to the island before they pushed the boat into the lagoon and headed out to sea for home.

Most of group remained thoughtful over the journey back and they all vowed to stay in touch. They had informally begun calling themselves the Castaways during the ordeal and the name stuck. They all shared a bond that no one else could know.

The Castaways moniker was a hit and became the name of the documentary that was filmed. It was released nationwide to critical acclaim and made stars of everyone involved. Heralded as the new standard for reality TV, it was the model every one else strove for in the glut of new reality shows that followed.

Everybody involved with the original knew it was something special and never tried to duplicate it again. With the new freedom offered by their success they wisely turned away from the reality business and all had further success with independent projects. It proved to be prophetic not too many years later when the reality market collapsed out of sheer viewer apathy and the stars it had created faded quickly into the background.

Max and Spike returned to their previous careers and went on to greatness. Spike slowly groomed his persona to become one of the most respected and well-rounded talents in the business, while Max became the head of one of the largest multi-media conglomerates in the world. And he still did his talk show every day.

The pair had become friends through their ordeal and over the years they nurtured the relationship. About once a month or so, Spike would guest on Max’s show. It was always good publicity for both of them and the viewers were treated to supposed insider tales of the Castaways ordeal. What they didn’t know was how carefully Max and Spike controlled and choreographed what was released about what went on while they were on the island. It wouldn’t do to have the facts made public.

After all, the Castaways brand had become one of the most popular and profitable in the media industry and it wouldn’t do to kill the Golden Goose.

It was sheer bravado and blind luck that had thrown them together for that fateful time and allowed all of them to come out of it smelling like roses. While none of them would ever even consider letting that kind of situation occur again, none of them would change it if they could.

They were cats after all.

They had meant to do that.