“I would like to thank you all for coming here,” blared the voice of the director through a megaphone, “It is truly a great honor to get to organize this wonderful fellowship of culture. First, a few quick announcements. Firstly I would like to thank my board of directors for helping me organize this wonderful event.” applause from the gathered people in front of the blackly draped stage. Somewhere in the back a noise like a repeated thunderclap sounded and many heads turned around to find no clouds in sight. The noise, stoped and all heads turned back to the now speaking director. “Secondly, I would like to thank all of our artists who have come here to share their culture and art with us, especially our special guest right out of Skull Island in the Indian Ocean.” A collective gasp and a few shrieks from the crowd as a loud roar erupted from the same direction as the mysterious thunderclaps of before. “You can find him in booth -12°. In fact, if you want to sample his stuff, take a look at these drapes. He made them!” Some of the people looked closer at the drapes and realized that they were actually great vines tied together and covered in what looked like a mixture of what looked like pine resin, ash, and black fur. The director was talking again. “I would like to ask you all one question. Are you ready for IFAM!” A unanimous “YES!” Came from the crowd.
The ribbon was cut, and the crowd rushed in every which way. A large group made a beeline for booth -12° and formed a line there. A giant, furry, black, cloaked figure stood behind the enormous table. Next to the table stood a lady with a name tag that said “RITA!” Under the name tag was written “Interpreter.” The first person asked RITA! how much for what looked like a overlarge hula-hoop made out of vines. She shouted up to the giant in a guttural language that sounded somewhat like “glarfanal nookshnolk inoctualtn frnikmalt?” The giant said something ineligible, so RITA! up to him “Noctushcnoal musckinalat. Ticalame blacnadurg!” Which roughly translates to “Take of your hood. I can not hear you.” So the giant took off his hood and revealed himself to be non other than King Kong of Skull Island! Many screamed, a few fainted, and one or two fled in terror. After RITA! calmed everybody down, King Kong responded to RITA! “Menetushcal itishcal clokendnoel.” RITA! addressed the person who had asked how much the hula-hoop cost. “He says he will trade this crown for the largest bronze bell you can find from booth 81.” “Ok” whispered the man who had asked, and then he hurried away.
~ ~ ~ 6 hours later ~ ~ ~
King Kong went to bed happy and satisfied, sounding like and enormous one man orchestra. He had sold every one of his things and trinkets he had brought for various instruments, sound makers, and what have you. He had sold half of his stuff in the first hour, a half of the half that was left in another hour, and so on, until, finally, someone had bought a ring he had made for a dozen duck whistles, the happy recipient walked away, chattering with her friend about how she was going to give the ring, as a crown, to her daughter. Life was good for Kong. Perfect even. Well… Almost perfect. The only thing that was wrong was he had no idea how to get home. He had been sailed from his home when some of the IFAM scouts washed ashore on Skull Island and asked him to become a artist for IFAM. He had come with them thinking of it as an adventure. Now two weeks later, he was worried. No man had ever found Skull Island again once he had left it for two suns. He was worried that maybe this same curse had come upon him too, for he could not remember the way. He laid his head down on the boulder that served as his pillow and slept and unrestful sleep, feeling homesick and wanting for his beloved isle. The next morning he awoke with a plan. He new of a certen two sailors named Will Turner and Jack Sparrow. He would ask them to help him find his way back home.
To Be Continued.