My story.
Ok, so I used to live in the United States (Miami, to be precise) with a group of 4 or 5 of my friends. It was actually great fun. One of the guys had parents who were filthy stinking rich. I mean really rich. We used to just hang around at his and drink ourselves silly. The parents had no problem in having us practically live in their 10-bedroom mansion. It was unbelievable. They were so rich they even owned a yacht. And that’s where this story begins.

One 4th of July weekend, we were looking for something to do. It was eventually decided that we’d take a road trip south of the border, to hang out with those crazy Mexicans. (I didn’t know why. They didn’t celebrate Independence Day like the Americans do.) Unfortunately, none of us, despite being in our late teens, were actually licensed to drive. This presented a problem. Until Ryan (The rich kid) said “Why don’t I borrow my parents yacht? We can go and sail down to Mexico instead”.

So, come the holiday weekend, the bunch of us started packing up the yacht. I made sure we’d have enough fuel to get there. (I’ve been stranded in the middle of nowhere after a car ran out of fuel before. It’s not fun.) The rest of the guys packed up all the essentials (Food, drink, money, etc.) and we were off.

Anyway, we were out on the yacht for a few hours, when the water started to get a little choppy. “Don’t worry” said Ryan. “This yacht is really sturdy. We’ll get through this in no time”

That’s when the engine started spluttering.

“What the hell happened?” I yelled, as our yacht stopped moving. One of the other guys in our group who was a mechanic went to check the engine and discovered that it hadn’t been serviced in years.
According to him “It could only be in worse shape if it was held together with bits of string”

We were now just bobbing in the ocean with not much nearby land visible around us. Just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it started raining. The bunch of us all high-tailed it into the cabin. We sat there, doing nothing but trying to keep from puking as the boat rocked back and forth violently.

After about an hour, the waves were calming a bit. I couldn’t take it though. I was about to see my lunch again. I made a burst out of the cabin up to the top deck where I forcefully vomited over the edge of the railing. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a massive wave hit me, and I went flying over the edge and into the water.

I shouted back at the guys, but they couldn’t hear me at first. When they did, I was drifting too far away for them to reach me with a float.
I thought I was a goner.

Luckily I am a pretty good swimmer, so I was able to fight the current a bit as the storm settled. Still though, I was totally lost. It didn’t help that I had recently seen the film “Open Water” which was about people in the same predicament I was now in. And that didn’t have a happy ending.

Thankfully, after a period of swimming about, I managed to spot a small mound of land in the distance. I swam there with every bit of strength I had left in my body, before collapsing on the shore. I passed out, with the knowledge that I had at least made it towards land.

“Are you alright man?” was the first thing I heard upon regaining consciousness.
I opened my eyes and saw a kindly old man.
He kind of looked like Morgan Freeman, only with dreadlocks.
“I need to get to a phone,” I croaked.
“Ah, come with me then” he replied. “We have phones in the village”

I followed him for a while as I regained my composure and got my voice back.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“We’re on a little island next to Jamaica” was his response.

“Oh, that explains the dreadlocks” I said, without giving it much thought.
“Not quite” he replied, as we reached the village.
“We were once part of the motherland, but we were banished”

“Why?” I enquired.

“We had different ideals over that” he said, as he pointed to a pig that was roasting on a spit nearby.
“Unlike others, we are people who don’t believe it is wrong to eat meat from the pig. We were cast out of the island because of this belief.
Our people settled on this land where we can carry out our religious beliefs in peace.”






“Oh”, I said. “You mean that this is a Pork-Rasta-Nation”
(Zigmund can't think of anything good., Fri 14 Nov 2008, 12:37, 3 replies)

Wow.
That is the farthest I've ever gone for a shaggy dog story punchline. Well done!
( HairyTwatter certified eel and sodium salesman, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 13:56, closed)

I'm glad I skipped to the end just to check...
I had a feeling this was going to be a dreadful pun.
(Jeremy Paxmans Itchy Gusset, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 14:00, closed)

epic
Needs salt though
( rofl harris, Fri 14 Nov 2008, 14:48, closed)