Please help me: If you are reading this message there is still hope, and you may be able to save me. I am trapped on a desert island somewhere in the Pacific (I believe I am on the 14th parallel, if my homemade coconut sextant is to be trusted). I have nothing but the clothes on my back and a Kindle Fire 8.9” tablet.
Mine is a sad tale of poetic irony and spite. Weeks ago I met a stranger at a cocktail party on the Upper West Side of New York’s Manhattan who asked me the one book I would bring to a desert island. I, in what seemed witty form, told him I would bring my Kindle Fire, as it stores hundreds and indeed thousands of books itself.
My interlocutor was nonplussed by my repartee, and revealed himself to be a magnate of not inconsiderable fortune. To punish me for my flippancy, his hired goons whisked me from the party, drugged me, and left me abandoned on this island with naught but that very Kindle.
Save me from this cruel fate, dear reader. I am running out of water and James Patterson novels.