This island has no secrets$$$ not from me. It loves me$$$ and I love it$$$ and when I paint my face I'm a part of the island. The swarthiness of my face hidden behind the clay and charcoal. I leave behind England$$$ it's not important anymore$$$ our island is all that matters. The rhythm of the hunt$$$ the sun$$$ beats deep in my blood. The littl'uns play$$$ eat$$$ and sleep$$$ there good for nothing and just take up precious space on my island. I couldn't have known a ship would pass at the exact moment my hunters left the fire. We needed the meat. Everything was perfect$$$ the pigs on the mountain$$$ the hunters and our spears$$$ we had to go then. The hunt was perfect$$$ the gouts and gouts of blood$$$ the pigs death screams. But that stupid boat went by$$$ and destroyed my trophy. Then Simon$$$ stupid little Simon$$$ gives the fat belligerent Fatty a piece of meat. He doesn't deserve it$$$ the fat$$$ ass-mar infected$$$ fatty. The know-it-all that says he could do better$$$ he wouldn't he'd do the exact same thing in my shoes. Damn him$$$ damn them all! They should have just taken the meat. Then Ralph stands there and tells me I'm too malevolent. I even apologized. He doesn't deserve to be chief$$$ he's weak. He wouldn't do it$$$ he wouldn't kill. There's power behind the spear$$$ impalpable to people like Ralph. We dominate those pigs. Now that we have found the way to kill the pigs$$$ we don't even need to be rescued. It doesn't matter that there was no fire to signal the ship$$$ because we needed the men for the hunt$$$ and I don't regret it anymore because now we have meat.
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