The Phils

I once spent an entire summer on a small rock in Bermuda. What happened was I became swept up in the hurricane of 1994 and spent seven months swirling around the outer atmosphere accompanied by two frogs called Phil and one that prefered to be called Philip.

During the seven months the 2 Phils became like brothers to me. If i had wind burn, they'd lick it. If i had moon rash they'd wee on it.

True friends.

But Philip became jealous, he'd always dissapproved of the inter species relations and would never speak to me unless it was a snide comment or snappy remark.

Anyway at last the gales subsided and i was dropped in the sea and swam to said rock.

Apon arriving i found Philip sitting there looking smugger then ever.

"What happened to the Phils, Philip?" I said.

"I ate them" he exclaimed.

I was furious, and with a vengeful rage I decided to tell a passing Albatross that he called it the son of a terrorist whore. This vexed the bird terribly and it completely flipped, pecking and plucking at Philip until it ripped out his treacherous tongue and flew off with it.

We sat in silence for several months until a passing boat eventually picked us up. I havent seen Philip since but i hear from a friend that he sometimes sells the Big Issue in Bromley.