a #writco.in comedy

[Collaboration with Roy and Michael]




In the heart of the 18th, two friends, oh so bold,
Michael and Roy, with a freedom story to be told.
An American lad, the other from the land of the brave,
Sailing the briny blue, with a single crave.

In a canoe so small, with a destiny so grand,
They set forth to conquer the ocean, hand in hand.
A fishing pole and purifier, their treasure so meek,
All they had to survive, for six whole weeks.

But alas, the ocean was a fickle beast,
And their supplies, like their patience, didn’t last the least.
For months they rowed, under skies both bright and bleak,
With laughter and squabbles, their friendship they’d test.

The sun kissed their skin, and the salt spray their hair,
Roy the African, with a flair so rare.
Michael the American, muscled and fair,
Yet both had their moments of despair.

"Paddle harder, Michael," Roy would say with a yawn,
"Or we'll be fish food before the dawn."
"But you, lazy Roy, with the snoring so loud,
You're the reason we're not there yet, you're so profound!"

They'd fight over the pole, a tug of war so fierce,
Their friendship was tested, but never ceased.
Each fish they caught, a meal so precious and few,
Roy would say, "I caught it, so let me chew!"

Raw was their meat, and their water so scarce,
They sipped from the sea, like it was a bar.
Water snakes slithered into their embrace,
Their diet so strange, a culinary farce.

They'd pray to the gods for a sign of shore,
For a coconut grove where they could explore.
But the sea was a joker, with tricks up its sleeve,
It gave them a ride on a whale, a creature so pure.

Now, they had a soda, their sweet little sin,
To be shared on the day freedom did begin.
But Michael's desires grew with each passing din,
He'd beg and he'd plead, but the can was within.

Three months in the heat, and Michael grew bold,
"Give me that soda, or I'll tell tales untold!"
Roy took the bait, and with a grin so sly,
"Alright, Michael, you win, but don't cry."

He shook it with glee, until...