"I have no food, alright? And for the record, I'm down a notch in my belt. I'm a big guy, it's going to be a while before you're going to want to give me a piggy back ride, okay?"
Seriously, he thought to himself, you'd think after all these years, people would stop using the fat card. Oh sure, the big guy's got all this hidden food, well, that's sorta true-brain fart- but it's a secret stash for a reason- he strums on his guitar because he's sad or freakin' out, Locke hunts boar, surprisingly, that man scares the be Jesus out of me…sorry Ma, but he does. I secretly hide food in the man cave for that reason- it's a safety net. Instead of shooting up people like the A-team does so almost every other minute, I snack. It's comfort food for a reason. Just because I'm not dropping down three sizes, even though everything I eat, and I mean everything has gone through me like a case of the bends, I'm still, quite, pleasantly, plump. That's right, Charlie- while you got your rocker good looks, and Sawyer's got his southern drawl, and Jack's got the whole I'm your hero, insert Superman's theme music here, I'm Hugo Reyes. Hurley's my nickname and no, dude, I'm not tellin'.
"I wanna do a cannonball. I've been walking up and down this beach every day and looking out at this water. And I wanna do a cannonball."
So this is it, he thought to himself, Charlie's out saving the world and here I am, ambling, nah, that's a word they'd use for the token fat guy and I'm not the token fatty. I'm like you know, pleasantly plump…but here I am, we've been stuck on this island with no sign of normalcy, the golf games ended a long time ago, Michael went Commander Nutso and well, if this is it, I'm doin' this. Bernard, still can't get over the fact that he's white, but he's a pretty cool dude, for you know, being up there in the age brackets, he told me to go for it. The water, its crisp and it bites at my skin, I do not float immediately to the top and I think, great, sure, so this is how I go out? I sink? Token fat guy my plump butt! But I let out the breath I was holding since I started to run, comically towards the blue abyss and my body's weightless. I weigh nothing. Dude, I could be a space man. I surface and I no longer want to be in space. I want to see Charlie. Desmond's back, I can see him now. Just why can't I see Charlie?
"Look, I don't know about you, but things have really sucked for me lately, and I could really use a victory. So let's get one, dude! Let's get this car started. Let's look death in the face and say: "Whatever, man!""
It took a couple turns of the key but I got it to work. Dude, I can't believe it! Something from flashback to the 80s came on the radio but I didn't care. We were free fallin', coastin' down the valley, and that's when I realized it; we were coasting. The brakes weren't working. I kept slamming on them but they just pressed to the floor like the weight of Kong had come upon them. Kong, he laughed to himself, Sawyer would have loved that. Speakin' of the red…neck…man…I can't believe we got him out here. I mean, sure the skunked beer, was like a worm to a fish, but seriously, the dude helped. He also freaked out when he saw Roger. You'd think after shooting a polar bear in the middle of the jungle, he'd be used to seeing crazy stuff like that. Pansy. I mean, it's an old VW van, with older than dirt beer, and tea stained papers with numbers and names and stuff. Why wouldn't there be a dead guy in the back seat? Stranger things have happened. Take, the French Chick. She's just out there. Totally out there, like Mork- Na*nu Na*nu. Charlie's in the passenger seat and he's got this look of pure adrenaline on his face. 100 percent pure this rocks my socks off excitement. He's awesome. Too bad you'll never get to meet him. Lucky for us, well, we did. And while some may have seen him as some VH1 has been, others saw him as spry, comical, and down to earth. I mean, if you consider black nail polish on a dude, down to earth, than yeah, that's Charlie---my best friend.
"Did either of you see a guy run through here... in a bathrobe... with a coconut?"
So I had a break down? Big deal. So Jumbotron had a mental slip up. The hick takes all his crap out on everyone else; Kate, while she's all pretty hot and tempting, she's like, you know a fugitive. Just give it some time; she'll crack up too. And Jack, while his bed side manner sucks, royally, well, I've seen him coming 'thisclose' to breaking and let me tell you, I wouldn't want him operating on me when he's freakin' out. Keep all shiny, sharp objects from the doctor. Funny, they use to say that around me, back at St. Anna's. Take your pills Hugo. Dave's not real, Hugo. If he's not real, then why's he here? Why am I standing at the edge of this cliff, staring at him, falling to his demise? She took my hand that day. She kissed me. Libby. She's you know, some sort of head shrink, Dr. Feel Good, and boy does she make me feel good. She believes in me. P.S. takin' down Sawyer was like all the years I saved up holding back the anger, the hate for myself, the guilt…the dude had it coming.
"There you go! Life's not so bad right? I mean sure the others are coming like to eat us all and every once in a while someone blows up all over you but you do get to sleep in every morning..."
Jack's a piece of work. He's a good guy, don't get me wrong. But he obviously has the hots for Kate and he spends half his time watchin' her from his medical tent. Like no one notices? Everyone knows, dude. Just man up, I want to tell him, grow a set, Sawyer would say. You only live once. I mean there's the risk she'll shoot you in the back, but behind those crazy eyes of hers, she's got a thing for the doctor too. I mean, everyone does. No, uh, that came out wrong. I personally don't have a 'thing' for Jack. That's just not me. But who's to say Scott or Steve do or don't? Seriously, I'm the only one here who can tell them apart. Who's to say, dude? Who's…to…say?
"You just totally scooby-doo'd me didn't you?"
She's a tricky one, that fugitive. Using her feminine wiles to get what she wants. I mean, she could use all of them if she wanted, but she doesn't even have to. The dude's got this knack for getting what she wants. When Kate wants something, well, let's just say, step aside. She kicks ass. And when she's not kicking ass, she's takin' names, or in this case, a food tray that Locke specifically told me I had to deliver to Miles. Damn, he's going to be so pissed. Why me?
"Dudes... listen. Our lives suck! Everyone's nerves are stretched to the max! I mean, we're lost on an island, running from boars, and monsters... freakin' polar bears!"
So yeah, we were stretched to our limits. Everyone is going crazy with the boars, the polar bears, which, sorry, dude, I didn't know Michael had no idea about the bears. But whatever man. Some man eating giraffe is tearing down trees for fun and we just sit around, on the beach, or in the caves. My CD player died. I'd ask Sawyer for some batteries, but all I'd get from him is a 'screw off' or another nickname, and well, seriously, I'm not down with that. I want to have fun. So I made our own little golf course. Michael's freaking out. So I shove a golf club into his hands and tell him to take it out on the ball. No one wants to hear him screaming anymore. So he does. He swings at the golf ball and it goes soaring- I mean, the dude's got some form. He can't control himself; he's actually trying to hold back a smile. He's trying to be all smokin' cool Joe, but deep down, he's thrilled. And I gave him that. Too bad, later on, he takes all that goodness, that I started to get back into my life, away. He takes it away and says it was an accident. The dude's got issues.
"Dude! Looks like someone steam-rolled Harry Potter!"
It's about time someone put him in his place. Jack had a blast playin' up Sawyer's medical condition. I overheard him asking his about his past conquests. Dude, I'm bettin' Sawyer comes with his own Instruction Manual- that guy's got VD written all over his face. God knows where else. Forgive me, Madre, but, if you met him, you'd be crossing yourself and prayin' to Saint Fiacre for the man's soul. Bet you didn't know there was a saint for venereal diseases. Then again, he's also the saint for taxi drivers. Whatever. Mi madre says there's a saint for everything. I believe her. So, back to Sawyer. The guy's so transparent, you can see when a new one liner is comin' before he even opens his mouth. He gets this look in his eyes; my mother would call it los ojos del Diablo, this tiny speck of sin and before you know it, you're no longer Kate, you're She-ra. You're no longer Jack, you're Dr. Giggles. You're no longer Hugo Reyes, you're Stay Puft. The dude's not even that clever. Along with the instruction manual, he secretly holds this letter, and I swear to you, dude, that letter is nothin' but nicknames and one liners. He should be a stand up comedian. We don't have tomatoes on this island, but, hey, whatever, we can always throw mangoes. He's got 'my tapioca' or something. Whatever it's called. The dude needed reading glasses. You should have seen the pair Sayid made with his bond like training. Strange thing is though, after I said that to him, there was this split second he smiled. He's such an attention whore. I have to go to confession. Too bad Eko wasn't around yet.
"So, Rose's husband's white. Didn't see that one coming."
Bernard. The guy's got class. And his wife, Rose, she's the sweetest lady, ever. Aside from mi madre and the Virgin Mary of course. Of course, you echo. There were days where she'd sit at the shoreline, watching the water ebb and flow, yeah, man, I said ebb and flow. I'm calling this out right now- I may stutter and say 'dude' a lot, but deep down, underneath all of this (I just grabbed my belly and jiggled it for effect) I'm pretty prolific. That means, I'm wordy. I think. Goes to show that just when you think you know someone, well you don't. I mean we just assumed Bernard, Rose's husband would be Black. Then again, on this island, what you assume and what you get are quite left field. The Dark Territory though, uh, that was spot on. Rose prayed and prayed and I swear, my mother would have loved to have her over for dinner. They could sit around our Golden Jesus and talk about their love for God. She knew, deep down, that her husband was alive. It took 48 days, but she never gave up. She prayed with Charlie when Claire was taken by that creepy guy Ethan-who, thank you very much, I found out wasn't on the plane. Does anyone say, way to go Hurley? No. They just arm themselves with guns and go barreling through the jungle on some rescue mission, while I sit back and dry my shirts over a fire pit. Rose would have patted me on the back. If she wasn't too busy praying. She's cool people. She's just got this grandmother like orb that flows around her. I mean, everyone loves a Hugo Reyes hug, but those are nothing compared to Rose's. Whatever, don't think less of me, because I have feelings and I express them. I'm not Sawyer.
"Dude, you got some... Arnzt on you."
Leslie. That dude, seriously, I don't know where he came from. Yeah, some school teacher form somewhere not interesting. But he just showed up and decided, yeah, I'm going to tag along, and be part of the A-team. Sorry dude, but all the roles were taken. I'm still strugglin' tryin' to figure out just who was Mr. T. My money's on Kate. She's one tough chick. The Others, were comin' to eat us, or kill us, because we crossed a line, and I use 'we' lightly here, because, well, I didn't cross any lines. Any lines drawn on the sand clearly wash away with the tide. But whatever, the Others, and no, Sawyer didn't name them. Come to think of it, if he did, they'd be something catchy like, 'podpeople' or 'stranger danger'…but, whatever. They were coming and we had nowhere to hide. I mean, they knew all the hot spots. So the French Chick, she took us to the Black Rock. Here, I bet you're thinking, what's so cool about some large stone. But you'd be wrong; it's this ancient slave ship; it's name, rightfully so-The Black Rock. Mind you, it capsized in the middle of the jungle. I'd ask you how something like that happens, but Rousseau, already gave me the whole, 'are you on the same island as I am' line. You think she and Sawyer knew one another in a past life or something. So Arnzt. Leslie, again, a bitchin' name. He hears we're going for dynamite to blow up this hatch, that Locke found, instead of protein in the shape of a hairy boar, bygones. He travels with and he's complaining and complaining. I never thought I'd say I was happy to see that smokey thing, but it sent him running for the hills. But yeah, then he came back. He's there, handling the dynamite like it's a baby chick, telling us we 'have to be careful', 'we shouldn't hover', yadda yadda yadda, and what happens? The dude blew up right in front of my face. Seriously. Like this piñata that was stuffed with a stick of dynamite, his guts were everywhere. Jack had some of Leslie on his face. Just picturing that makes me wanna chuckle…and hurl.