And We Are Here As On A Darkening Plain.... (#5)

We are devistated. Today is a special day in Miami. It’s when everyone motors out across Biscayne Bay to Sands Cut and all the girls go topless. Our vessel draws too much water to enter the cut, but our dingy doesn’t. So we grabbed our cameras, binoculars, sketch pads and a cooler full of beer, leaped into our trusty inflatable and fired up the outboard. We cast off the bowline, waived a hearty goodbye to the mother ship and made it about 16 feet before the motor quit. I won’t regurgitate the next few frustrating hours where the Captain performed fruitless diagnostics. Eventually we drifted back and called it quits. I spent the remainder of the afternoon staring wistfully at the cut until the last miniature image of a boat headed back to the mainland. The Captain said nothing and nursed a bottle of Dominican Rum until he passed out.
Next Day: It just keeps coming. This morning the main engine (which is our only engine) wouldn’t start. That at least solved the problem of it not shutting off. Something is draining the batteries. (It sure as hell isn’t the refrigerator.) We had to coax and compliment our wayward generator until it relinquished enough juice to turn the engine over. Once underway, our auto-pilot went out (not out of the closet although that’s where it refuses to emerge from). It appears one of our BUDs (blow up dolls), named Jane jilted him. We discovered that when our other BUD, Esmeralda, announced that she’s a lesbian. She’s hooked up with Jane which has devastated poor Otto (We call him “Otto”; catchy, isn’t it?). It’s made us none too happy either. (Future note: Beware of BUDs with exotic names.) We’re steering on “manual” while the three of them hash it out. 
Day After That: Our cell phone keeps dialing 6’s, as in “666”. It did it once before on September 9th (9-9-9) which is a bit freaky. Now it won’t stop. If you somehow manage to punch in a ringing number (not an easy feat) it just continues dialing. The ensuing conversation usually consists of the other party repeating “What’s all that beeping?” and then offering advice. But we don’t need any. We know what the problem is. It’s possessed. We keep the phone in a locker now and open it with trepidation. We know it’s only a matter of time until the devil rings us asking if he’s had any calls.