"Jesus Christ, Joe. What difference does it make? I mean, we're talking about an arm here. How tasty do you expect it to be? Fucking A man, we're on an island, not in the kitchen of Tavern on the Green. You can have the arm seasoned with sea salt or urine. Take your pick."
"No, Bob, I mean how are you going to serve me the arm. Given the fact that you'll presumably have to cut your arm off, how will you then proceed to formally present the arm to me for dining? Do you think you'll be capable of such an endeavor with one arm? And a bleeding one at that?"
"Whoa! Wait a second there arm-boy. I said you could eat my arm. When exactly did I say anything about playing waiter for your ugly ass?"
Joe walked to the other end of the island and crossed his arms. His now emaciated (and, as Bob had correctly pointed out, ugly) ass faced Bob like a challenge, a boast, and defiant roar. Joe must have had the most literate and poetic ass on the goddamn planet. His goddamn ass said all that without tightening a cheek. What the hell kind of ass was that?
Anyway.
Bob gave Joe's ass the finger. (Proverbially speaking.) He grabbed hold of the tree and climbed up. He started ripping and pulling on the branches and let them fall to the ground.
Joe was somewhat annoyed that his demand/bluff had not been met.
"Gosh fucking darn-it, Bob." Joe said.
Joe picked up a coconut and flung it at Bob's head. The shock knocked Bob out of the tree, and he caught his chin on a branch on the way down, decapitating him.
Bob's head rolled to Joe's feet.
Joe shrugged. "Well, no point in passing up the opportunity for a little head," he laughed to himself.
Joe took one of the branches that had fallen to the ground and bent it into an oval. With the string Bob had found, he fastened the ring to the tree as high as he could.
Early into the game, Joe realized that one-on-one basketball (or "branchhead", as he called it) just wasn't as much fun without an opponent. Besides, he was getting hungry.
Joe carved Bob's heart out of his chest with a pocketknife, and looked for the campfire.
"Oh shit," Joe said, realizing that there was no campfire, and that there were no matches on the island.
"Oh well," he said, as he started to munch on the raw heart. It was tougher than he had expected, and the big chunks he managed to bite off were difficult to consume. Unfortunately, one chunk was so big that it got lodged in his throat and he choked to death.
Five minutes later, a rescue ship sailed by.
The moral of the story:
Offer your right arm to help out a neighbor and you'll be a head of the game.
or:
A truly unselfish heart is hard to swallow.
