[Mister Saint]: 79.Example of a Kiss

     How I hated the sea. I could go on for days about how that salty breeze that landsiders love to talk about always put a rolling in my stomach. I could talk for a half hour without taking a breath about why barnacles should burn in hell and the tide is nothing more than a bathing earth flatulating in the bathwater. I'll spare you the agony of that, though, as I'm quite aware that you came here to be entertained and not annoyed.
     The journey back to my native Australia seemed far too long for my tastes. Part of the problem, I suppose, is that I had been away for quite a stretch of time... how was I to know that displaying one's privates to an entire trainload of people during a drunken rampage through Tokyo would get me tossed in a cell? It isn't as if they aren't attractive privates, as privates go, but I digress. I had been sent back to Australia by ship, and wouldn't you know it, but that bedeviled thing ran afoul of some nasty luck and sank like gigiantic piece of steel with a hole in its belly. I, being the intrepid sort, had fashioned a raft out of a piece of plywood, some kite string, the undergarments of a dancing girl, and ten rolls of wrapping paper, and set sail for home. 
     I had been afloat for two months, sustaining myself by eating pieces of the wrapping paper and collecting rainwater in the fibers of that lovely piece of garment. The sight of land caused me to lose sight of everything I had done, and like some fourth grade moron I leapt from the raft and started swimming to shore. I swam like a man possessed and, screaming for breath, my legs cramping and throbbing from the strain, I dragged myself onto the sandy beach. I was home at last, and none too soon.
     "Home," I muttered in delirium to myself, as I leaned down to kiss the soil of my own country. My lips touched the ground, but something that wasn't quite earth slid against their parched surface. I looked down to the ground with a start, as a little wiggly worm poked its head up from the soil.
     "Easy there, feisty," it said, "I don't like it when my men are more aggressive than me!"
     Have I ever told you how terrible it tastes to kiss a wiggly worm? Oh, I could go on for days about it...