Finally made it to the hotel. The lobby stunk like vomit. I complained to Moreau and he said it was probably because I’d just vomited all over the davenport. He’s very smug. They should call him “Doctor Smug.” Anyway, then this big furry freak came over and took my bags to my room. I didn’t tip him.
The breakfast buffet here leaves something to be desired. Old fruit and cold cereal. And you can’t ask for bacon because the waiter looks like some kinda pig thing. Some getaway this is turning out to be. Took a shower and found a flea collar in the drain.
Tried to get a pickleball game going in the rec room today but Moreau burst in yelling that it’s not a rec room, it’s his “laboratory,” and that I had to get out. Give a guy an island and a medical degree and suddenly he thinks he can talk to you any way he wants. I knocked over his lava lamp on my way out “accidentally.”
Today Moreau called an assembly of “The Beast Folk,” which apparently included me. Was relieved to learn the meeting was because he found a half-eaten rabbit on the lawn and not because he’d discovered I’d been having diarrhea in the ice machine. Eating rabbit is apparently “against the law” here and Moreau gave a big speech about it. I said I “hop” they find who did it. Big laughs. Had diarrhea again later.
Tried to liven the place up yesterday (somebody had to–feels like a funeral home in here), so I jumped on Moreau’s shoulders and yelled “Horsey time!!” But Mr. Big Shot Island Owner’s knees buckled under my weight and he fell over and hit his head really hard. He was a big baby about it, crying and yelling at me. So much for a doctor’s poise under pressure. I told him he could punch my arm to make it even but he just stormed off. Anyway, I think I’m falling in love with the Puma-Woman.
Welp, got caught having diarrhea in the ice machine today. It was bound to happen. It’s hard to be discreet when you’re screaming. Moreau said he wants me to leave the resort because I’m a “bad influence” on The Beast Folk. I told him to name one example and of course he brings up the ice-machine shitting. He also said it’s because I’ve started walking around on all fours and saying “Me horny” all the time. I think Moreau is on a trip of his own: a power trip.
Was “escorted” to a boat this morning by a Dog-Man. So much for man’s best friend. Still managed to steal a bathrobe and a bunch of little soaps from my room. Moreau can afford it. Worst vacation ever. Left a terrible online review. Also left a note for the Puma-Woman with my number on it and said “Call me-ow.” What can I say? I’m an optimist.