“Hello, Miss Alexander? Miss Sidney Alexander? I’m calling from Production Powerhouse Entertainment. You entered our Island Isolation contest a few weeks ago. Well ma'am, contestants were drawn today, and you were one of the two selected.”
After promptly correcting them that I am to be referred to as 'Sid', I was ecstatic about being selected to participate in the contest. I never win anything, and the money is as good as mine...at least the $500K is anyway. I need the money to accomplish my dreams of becoming a mother. I'm 33 years old, and the hopes that I will find a suitable husband at this late stage in my life are very slim to non-existent. In order to have a baby, I needed a man, or so I thought. Sure, I've dated plenty, but there just hadn't been a connection with any of them. The best way to describe these encounters...lets just say that I would rather find a random hobo on the street to make out with than to go out with any of those losers a second or third time. I most definitely kissed on a first date, and if there were no sparks or butterflies then I didn't bother with a second date. If they were at least cute, then they got another date. I've had a couple of one-nighters, mostly just guys that I met in a club and we fucked in his car or mine, then I was good to go for a while. But none of them were daddy material, in my opinion. I plan to do artificial insemination. I can have a baby without the man, problem solved. I'm not rich, but I own my home and car outright. My parents think that I am crazy, but I don't care. I feel like my ovaries are shriveling up and dying, and I want to be a mom so badly. The prize money will help pay for the procedure to be inseminated, and provide a nice cushion for me and my baby.
I have worked as a school teacher for the last 10 years, and I love my job. I don't really have friends, because I honestly dislike people in general. Kids on the other hand, I LOVE them all, and they are the most precious gift on Earth. Hence my reason for wanting one so badly.
My parents are very religious, and when I came home from college with a small 1/2 dime sized tattoo on my foot, they locked me in the den and had their bible-thumping friends come over and pray for the good Lord to forgive me. I had to pretend that God himself spoke to me and I saw the error of my ways and that I would never stray from His path again. Total, complete, bullshit! Little do my parents know, but my entire back is covered from shoulder blades to waistline with a very detailed set of tattered wings. They span across my entire back, and there are some stray feathers that a scattered along my sides on my ribs. The tips are crimson red, but the rest is a combination of black and dark gray ink. The tattoo has meaning to me. That I have overcome some shit and although my soul is a little worse for wear, I made it. I had a nervous breakdown my third year of college after I witnessed my roommate being murdered by her boyfriend in our off-campus apartment. It still haunts me, but my battle to regain my mental health was tough and I'm glad that I was able to make it to where I am now.
The PPE guy told me that the other contestant is Slade Larson from Idaho. What kind of name is Slade? I bet his is some pansy ass pencil pusher, and his parents knew he was going to be a pussy so they gave him a brave and manly name. I am not opposed to using my lady goodies to get some dweeby doofus to drop out this thing, so I can have the full $1mil to myself. Look out, Slade from Idaho...you are going down!