Fine, so waking up naked in a pool of blood doesn’t exactly make for a great first date. Memorable, perhaps, but a nice dinner and a goodnight kiss beneath the stars would’ve been just as memorable. Well, maybe not just as, but still. In any case, and at the very least, the blood didn’t appear to be my own. I mean, no gaping wounds or anything. Then again, if it wasn’t my blood, then whose was it? And where exactly had my date gone off to? With my clothes? And my wallet? And, for that matter, where exactly was the body that once contained all that blood?
I know, I know; that’s a lot of questions. Especially, like I said, when you’re naked in a pool of blood. Sadly, there was a whole boatful more of them on the horizon.
And speaking of boats, that’s exactly what I was on at that very mome
