The Amazon Adventure

Dawn has broken. Marilyn hadn't move yet so the others hadn't move, too.
Twiggy had chosen one branch to relax though. With Pogo. What was a bit awkward because both finished off the very rest of the 'stoner berries'.
So Ginger was the one who had to amass some fruit and other eatable stuff.
Furthermore there was a cause for alarm but no one but him really cared about...
...What was a bit awkward because for that matter Twiggy should be the one who worry about.

“Geez! Tim is lost now, too! We should fucking finally look for him, there was a scream yesterday and-!...”
Twiggy sighed and bit his nails bored.
“Ya mentioned this a few times, Ginny...”
Ginger looked up angrily while he peeled some fruit he collected an hour earlier.
“Ha... in fact he's your fucking boy-toy, so I shouldn't worry about him any longer!...” , He spat out sarcastically.
Twiggy blushed immediately. Nobody hadn't mentioned their open secret so far.
“Fuck you, Franklin!”
The drummer pouted and threw a few mushy parings right in Twiggy's direction.
Pogo just giggled retarded and fell nearly down the branch he shared with his dreadlocked bandmate.
“Relaaax, ma nutty friend!... Just look at Marilyn. He isn't back yet and we don't worry because he will come back. That's jungle logic... Deal with it, Cavey.”
The bearded man gawked at Pogo so that one eye began to flinch uncontrolled.

Manson sat cross-legged near Ginger all motionless and stared into space. Sometimes he blinked but his eyes were abnormal glassy. The camp-Sir-war-paint was still on his face, already blurred.
The drummer went on peeling fruit grumpy.
Actually he felt like a kind of housemaid but he gave up to bitch around that he's the only one who 'runs the household'.
In secret he hoped that Twiggy and Pogo would feel sick soon so that Ginger could eat all stuff he found. On the other hand he couldn't eat because he worried about the missing guys more and more...
At first John disappeared and now the other blonde man. He pictured different situations they could be in. At least he thought John – and Tim... though... - would be clever enough to survive someway. Ginger sighed hard and noshed a fruit all frustrated. The fruit juice ran down his beard.

***

Dearest diary evrr!!
LooooL, I sit on a tre3 FuLL~chiLL mode, yeey............ Glad to be in diz jungle, man. 'S good stufffffff...........,..,,..
Soo many nastY ideas but/t no..................................................... motiv-a-tion to do somethin.
Chill lap #2 wid my Pogu. Good guy.
Zee Ya Zooon.
<3 Love.
Twig inA tre<3

***

Obviously nobody knew where Tim actually was, he himself included.
The last thing he remembered was this cigarette packet he found unexpectedly. Before he could take it to light one of his beloved cigarettes at the campfire (best would be one after another of course) there was an unsettled rustling behind him, then an abruptly thud on his head.
When he came around, Tim couldn't move and see what went on.
Something cut in his wrists and foot links.
In the very first seconds he wasn't sure if he a) lost his eyesight or if b) a blindfold prevented him from seeing in what kind of situation he was. Soon he realized that option b) was the actual case.
At all events there were absolutely certain noises around him, noises of... could it be called civilization?...
Tim winced at a sudden expletive right next to him.
It was a hoarse voice and a language he never heard before. Another voice sounded, then there was a snicker.
Tim scared almost to death as something spiky nudged him. More and more men came closer, causing babble of voices. His breath accelerated immediately.
The Swede only wanted to smoke, what the hell went wrong?!

“NOO! GET OFF!”
But Pogo didn't let go Twiggy's lap.
“C'mon, Twiggz! I'm so bored. Let's do something stupid!...”
The weird bassist squeaked in slight panic and slipped so that he nearly lost his footing but he clutched the branch quick-witted.
“Only when you let go my gown!... I've got only one AND I WON'T WEAR A STUPID SKIRT LIKE YOU!”
Pogo smirked and eyeballed up quite interested.
“What?!” , Twiggy spat out annoyed and tucked up his legs what looked rather dopy because he hung on the slowly bending branch and seemed to be the most helpless person within radius of eight miles.
“Just... looking what you're not wearing under your cute dress, dude...”
“POGO!”
Twiggy closed his legs immediately.
The grinning keyboardist still didn't let go the gown, so Twiggy decided to cry bloodcurdling like a child what doesn't get what it wants.

Ginger couldn't bear this childish wrangle anymore and intervened abruptly.
“Shut up! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!”
Both froze immediately and gaped at the drummer whose voice cracked while a bit saliva trickled down his lips. Again his eye flinched hard.
“I'm fucking sick of it! Go and play BUT NOT here, NOT IN MY VICINITY!”
Twiggy let go the branch pouting and thud to the ground.
A silent minute later Pogo reached out for the bassists hand to help him up. So he grabbed Twiggy's hand and dragged him resolute right into the brushwood.
“Oh my...” Ginger sighed again and face-palmed.
“Finally.”
The drummer jumped when he heard this familiar voice growling.
“...GOD!” , He shrieked as he turned to see Marilyn came around all of a sudden.
The singer raised an eyebrow and looked at Ginger with dozy eyes when he scratched his head all puzzled.
“Well, did I miss something important?”

The usually tough guy trembled with fear as the mass of natives around him seemed to grow constantly. This babble of voices drove him almost mad because he didn't understand anything.
If Tim would be one of them he'd hear them say following:

“Hehe, look at him... pretending to be a forest dweller... haha.”
“Yeah, pseudo!”
“Stinks.”
“Ugh, he's so ugly, man, I won't dare to touch him in any way...”
“Sure that's a man?...”
“Whut?? Don't cha see that huge **** and those sturdy ***** and look at tha-”
“Gaayyy!”
“Brother, remember what you said when we had caught the other one...”
“Don't talk about The Great Bumba like that!”
“Pillory him!”
“Exactly!”
- tulmut -
“Stop it!”
- excited whispers among the forest dwellers -
“The Great Bumba!...”

If Tim could see he'd hardly believe that's his missing bandmate in front of him in earnest.
He sat on a wooden sedan chair carried by six native women with voluptuous breasts and scary face piercings made of bones.
John himself wore a lot of self-made necklaces, earrings and a decorated hoop. He also wore an ornate face painting.
With peremptoriness he silenced the outraged crowd.
If the poor prisoner could understand John he'd hear him talking about following:

“Exactly. The Great Bumba is here to see what you bring. Let me see... - Oh, am I right? It looks like...”
He slitted his eyes what made him look like a dangerous snake and leaned forward musing.