Okay, everyone; I promise that the contest will begin shortly. For now, it still hasn't started yet.

Please enjoy, and r and r!

Romen

Disclaimer: Unfamiliar mine BUT Familiar not mine

7. A Little Magic and a Little Freaky Island Inhabitant

"One...two...three..."

"Whatcha doing, Jacko?" Sawyer asked as he, Boone, and Charlie passed by. They were on their way to one of Sawyer's many stashes around the island to get a bottle of vodka in return for Charlie's treasures.

"I'm working out." Jack sat up. He had just started doing some push-ups after a jog around the beach. "I'm trying to warm-up before the contest starts. What about you?"

"What we're doing ain't none of your business," Sawyer snapped. "You're the enemy."

"Then why are you walking with Boone? Isn't he the enemy too?"

Sawyer considered this before turning on the poor boy. "He's got a point, Little B. Go on, get!"

Boone was scared of the big, angry man, so he ran off into the jungle, stopping only when he could no longer hear Sawyer's manic laughter. He shivered, looking up at the blue sky before whistling to himself while singing at the same time, just like the Russianfolk artists who had worked so hard to achieve such skill.

"Whenever I feel afraid, I hold my head erect and whistle a happy tune so no one will suspect I'm afraid. While shivering in my shoes, I strike a careless pose and whistle a happy tune so no one ever knows I'm afraid. The result of this deception is very clear to tell. For when I fool the people I fear I fool myself as well."

"That doesn't really work, you know."

Boone stopped, surprised to see Walt sitting on a tree limb. He climbed down, landing on the ground with a soft thump. "I tried to do that on the playground at school, and I still got beat up. But I did get revenge."

"Really?" Boone could feel himself trembling. "How?"

Walt shrugged. "I don't know. It wasn't really me, stuff just kept happening to the kid who had beaten me. One day he found a moldy orange in his locker, and then his deodorant go stolen out of his gym bag. It all ended when his parents decided to transfer him. They thought he was cursed. Something about some numbers..." He shook his head. "Are you going to be in the contest too, Mr. Boone?"

"That's Mr. Carlyle to you," he replied haughtily, "and yes, I am entering. It doesn't matter anyway; Kate has already declared her love for me."

"That doesn't mean anything. She declared her love to Sawyer and Jack too." Walt crossed his arms, as if saying 'can you top that?'

"Well..." Boone stopped, suddenly smiling amiably. "Why don't we strike a bargain, Walt?"

Walt frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I've heard that you have"- Boone paused, searching for the right words -"certain skills."

"Oh yeah." Walt nodded enthusiastically. "I'm really good at basketball, and I can draw, just like my dad. I also can run real fast and"-

"How interesting. I mean, those are all very good, but I'm speaking of something different." He lowered his voice, stepping closer in case someone was spying on them. "I'm talking about...more mature and important skills that only you posses."

"Uhmmmmmm!" Walt's eyes grew wide as he pointed at Boone. "You want me to help you cheat! That's against the rules! I'm gonna tell on you!"

"Oh, never mind." Boone was just about to walk away when he heard Walt cry out. "What is it?"

"Look at this rock." The kid picked up a shiny, smooth, flat, reddish-orange stone. "Isn't it cool?"

"Let me see that." Boone grabbed it out of his hands, examining it. "This is just a stupid pebble. There's nothing cool about it at all. If it were a cellphone, perhaps I would say, 'Wow, what a deal! Does it come with a free minutes plan?' But a rock will do you know good. Just forget about it." He dropped it.

Despite what Little B had just said, Walt bent down to pick it up. "I wish that I had my pebble collection with me! Huh?"

"What now?" Boone shouted, turning around, surprised to see Walt's pockets bulging with something. "What's in there?"

"It's...my pebble collection." Walt's eyes grew wide. "I didn't have this on me before! This rock must be magic!"

"There's no such thing as magic, boy," Boone growled, his face going from white to purple in rage, just like his distant relative Uncle Vernon.

"Mama always said that magic was in dreams," Walt replied promptly. "This pebble is the only explanation for what just happened. You saw it with your own two eyes."

"You're just nervous." Still, Boone had his doubts. As he watched Walt play with his new addition, Boone was struck with an idea. "Hey, kid?"

"Yeah?" Walt cocked his head to the side.

"I'll tell you what: let's strike a bargain that has nothing to do with the contest, okay?"

"Sure." Walt pocketed the pebble. "What is it?"

"See this?" Boone held up a wad of one dollar bills. "I'll give you all of this money if you give me your pebble."

"Those are only one dollars," Walt snapped. "Magic is much better than twenty bucks."

Boone pulled out his checkbook with an exhasperated sigh. "Here, I'll write you a check for fifteen hundred dollars. You're not the first one I've paid off to give me a pebble, Walt. How much is your love for that pebble?"

"My love for this pebble?" Walt put his hand on his chin thoughtfully. "It's closer to one thousand five hundred dollars."

Boone grinned. "Wow, you're a hard man to bargain with. I guess that will have to do if that's as low as you'll go."

Once the transaction was made, Boone stole away to a clearing to examine the pebble closer as Walt checked the authenticity of the check.

On the back of the stone was a small sticker that said: MADE IN CHINA and WARNING: THIS IS A FLAMABLE SUBTANCE. STAY AWAY FROM ANY FLAME. That wouldn't be too difficult. Now he could only hope that the pebble was worth all of the money that he had spent. As soon as he thought this, apamphlet appeared a few feet away from him. It had no title page, so he simply began to read.

If you are reading this, the Magic Pebble Edition 2005 has just come into your possesion. Your certificate of authenticity is in the back of the book.

You might be wondering how to work your Magic Pebble Edition 2005. It isn't very difficult. Technological scientists and magical philosophers have been working hard to make the use of this wonderful creation effortless and have succeeded after years of research and experiments. The only thing that you have to do is state aloud what you want the pebble to do. For example:

1) Let's pretend that you want an ice cream cone, for free.

2) Put the pebble in your hand, open palmed

3) Say in a clear voice: I want an ice cream cone, for free.

4) An ice cream cone shoulder appear. If it doesn't, it isn't our fault; you must have done something wrong.

There are several things that you cannot ask the pebble to do. You not ask the pebble to prevent or cause something to happen in the future. For instance, you cannot say, "I want to win a contest," or, "I will win a contest." It cannot grant you endless riches or take you back in time, or make someone fall in love with you. Another thing that it is unable to do is increase you skill in a certain area. It can, however, get you off of a deserted island on a majestic fivestar cruise ship.

Unlike the Bottled Genies of the past, you have no limit to the amount of wishes that you want to make. We believe that since the imagination has no boundaries, why shouldn't wishing as well?

So please enjoy your Magic Pebble Edition 2005, and be sure to send your comments to us.

After checking to make sure that the certificate was in the place it should be, he shut the pamphlet with a smile. Even though this Magic Pebble couldn't grant him 'unlimited riches', he could use it to help him win the contest along the way. It had definitely been worth his deal with Walt.

It also said that it could help them get off of the island. He had to tell everyone!

"That's a bad idea," he said to Pebble outloud. "They will want you for themselves. I'll have to do it in secret, so it just looks like a coincidence. Besides, with your help I shall be sure to win Kate's hand!"

Meanwhile, back in the jungle...

"Where's Janet?"

Sayid watched the swinging disco lamp in front of him. "I don't know who you're talking about."

An annoying bluegrass song about dogs blasted through some speakers on the wall. He longed to cover his ears with his hands but they were chained down. "Stop! STOP!" he cried. "I keep telling you, I don't know who Janet is." When he heard the music stop, or at least get turned down, he continued.

"I was on a plane, a plane that crashed here, on this island. I am one of 46 suvivors. While we were here we heard to messages: one in French, a mayday, the other a warning, repeating itself for sixteen years." He let his head fall back on the table that he was tied to. He could see a figure begin toemerge from theshadows.

"Sixteen years. Has it really been that long since I came out with a hit single?"

Sayid's eyes widened. "You're Michael Jack's Son! You're the VH1 has-been that everyone thought died in that plane crash sixteen years ago!"

Michael Jack's Son, even though he enjoyed this praise, narrowed his eyes. "I know who you are."

"Huh?"

Before Sayid could say anything else, Michael Jack's Son hit him with a plank and it was lights-out.

TBC...

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