Six whole months had passed since the horrible wreck that brought the pair to the lonely island’s shores.
It would be for the best, they agreed, if they each partitioned for themselves a part of the island and marked the boundary with a single line.
If they were going to survive with each other on the island, or so they told themselves at the time, then they might as well get used to respecting the other’s space.
He had found out too late, however, that not he, but his companion, had chosen the side with the steady supply of fruit.
He had consequently run out of fruit himself a couple weeks ago.
His companion, although kind, was absentminded.
Thus, he could only count on receiving sporadic loans from his companion’s immense supply.
…
Pangs of both hunger and regret over his careless decision tormented him through the day and night, but what could he do?
He wouldn’t dare betray his companion’s trust and breach the line, even for a taste of that glorious fruit.
If his companion were offended enough by such an intrusion he might lose him as a friend forever, and to spend the rest of his days on the island alone was unthinkable.
While his mind was racked by tempests perhaps even more awful than the one that brought him to the island, his companion, on the other hand, was at peace.
He had plenty of fruit to live a hundred lifetimes on the island and he had someone to keep him company as well.
Life was a joy to him, swimming in such plenty as he was…
…that he even on occasion took great pleasure in lending a share of his fruit to his very best friend…
…the birds of the sea.
Yes, the birds who sang such wonderful maritime melodies to him every morning and afternoon and brought such joy to his heart
After such a generous feeding of his avian friends, he then decided, on a day much like any other day on the peaceful island, to take his afternoon nap.
Meanwhile, as he watched his companion slumber through the afternoon, his fragile psyche soon reached its utter breaking point. He could take no more of this.
He must acquire more fruit at all costs, if he had any hope of surviving. But how to do it without breaching the line?
Then he had an idea.
He was on an island, was he not? And an island is a body of land entirely surrounded by water, is it not?
So, if he walked, starting from his side of the line, around the entire circumference of the island, surely he would reach the other side of the line, and thus his companion’s partition, without breaching the line once, would he not?
It is a rash stratagem indeed, he reasoned to himself, but it’s rash enough that it just might work. Besides, what other choice did he have?
And so without delaying a moment more, he set off on his long journey to circumnavigate the island shore.
He walked…
…and walked…
…and walked…
…and walked a little more…
…until he encountered not his intended destination, but two other strangers, perhaps from some other wreck that coincidentally led its sole survivors to the same island.
He had in fact stumbled upon the two Josephs, known throughout the seafaring world as the bitterest of any and all enemies that ever held a grudge against their fellow man.
These Josephs had also partitioned their personal sides of the island, not out of mutual respect, but out of hatred. Each understood that they would come to fierce blows if one or the other breached the line.
There was a weapon in the very middle of the line, loaded with a single shot. No doubt part of the customary procedure of giving a disgraced, marooned seaman the comfort of release (although the sheer size of the firearm puzzled him).
So indeed it was. Joseph had broken one or more of the infallible tenets of seamanship, and dragged the other Joseph down with him to exile and shame.
Each blamed the other for his misfortune. And since the weapon lay not on either side of the line, it was either of theirs for the taking.
But then a wicked thought occurred to Joseph. Why not put the single shot in his own head, and leave Joseph to a lifetime of starvation and misery upon the cursed island?
It then became clear to Joseph that, as soon as the treacherous, comforting thought came into his head, it came into Joseph’s as well.
What were the Josephs to do? Their days were spent in a maddening mire of hesitation that stopped their otherwise profound mutual ire.
Neither Joseph was certain if he should use the gun on himself or his foe, and each Joseph kept a watchful eye on the other.
Even their afternoon naps, the sole moments of peace either Joseph would enjoy on the island…
…were spent, Argus-like, with at least one eye open.
Finally, on a day much like any other on the lonely island, Joseph decided that things could go on the way they had for no longer.
Joseph could no longer tolerate the existence of Joseph, so much that not even the fear of what dreams may come in the next world could stop him. Joseph felt the same way.
It was at this moment that Joseph picked up the gun, pointed it at Joseph’s heart and fired.
A deafening shot bellowed throughout the entire island, consummating Joseph’s terrible vengeance.
