“B-b-b-but you’re dead!” I exclaimed. He groaned as he shoved me off of him and then sat up next to me.

“Does it look like I’m dead?” he asked me. I shook my head.

“No,” I replied in a small voice. Now that I knew who it was, he was very intimidating!

“That’s because it was all just a set up. I didn’t actually die,” Michael told me.

“Why? Is this some publicity stunt or something?” I asked. He shook his head.

“No, not really. Nobody knows that I didn’t actually die except for you. I felt bad for leaving my family, but I couldn’t handle all of the pressure! With the tour and the record labels pushing for a new album! The stress gets to you, especially when it’s been like that your whole life,” Michael explained. I felt bad for him because he was right. If I was in his situation, the stress would probably get to me to. His problems weren’t like any other artist because like he mentioned, it’s been like that his entire life!

“So... is Conrad Murray...” I started.

“Innocent? Yeah, he is,” Michael replied.

“What are you going to do about it?” I questioned.

“Nothing! I can’t do a thing anymore! The damage is done! Besides, he’s only going to be in jail for a maximum of four years! Most people are in there their entire lives! He was lucky...” Michael replied.

This was insane! It’s been three years since Michael Jackson’s ‘death’ and in the end he isn’t actually dead! All of the fuss over the trial was for nothing!

There was a long silence. A very long silence.

“You can’t say a thing!” Michael instructed after about ten minutes of pure silence. I nodded my head.

“I understand,” I replied.

“Good. Now that you know, is this going to affect our friendship?” Michael asked me. I shook my head.

“No, everything will stay the same,” I lied. Yeah, sure. Like things weren’t going to change after I learn that I’m stuck on an island with the biggest pop star in music history!

He smiled.

“Great,” he said as he put his surgical mask back on. Seriously? He still had to wear that thing?

“Why do you still have to wear that?” I asked him annoyed.

“Because, when we get rescued, nobody can know who I really am!” Michael explained. Correction; if we get rescued.

“Can you uh... could you sing a song? I’m a big fan,” I told him. He sighed.

“No,”

“Why not?” I asked furiously. He’d probably do it for any other fan but he won’t sing for me just because I found out who he really is!

“Because I need to save my energy. Who knows how long we’re going to be here for,” Michael replied.

“Just sing one note! You can’t seriously waste energy by singing one note!” I protested. He shook his head.

“No, my voice isn’t warmed up,”

“Then warm it up!” I suggested.

“No, maybe I’ll sing later. Not now,” he replied. Ugh! Celebrities! Everything has to be their way! Um... hello!? I’m a loyal fan! The least he could do is sing!

“Then dance,” I suggested.

“No! I haven’t stretched,” he told me. I rolled my eyes.

“Excuses, excuses! That’s all that comes out of your mouth!” I screamed. Michael laughed.

“You sound like Lisa-Marie. She always told me that when we were married,” Michael told me. I laughed. I could picture her saying that.

“Fine, don’t sing, don’t dance! Why don’t you just go to bed? Huh? Does that appeal to you?” I asked. He smiled.

“Yeah, thanks!” he said as he walked over to the shelter, made himself comfortable and then closed his eyes. Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me right now? I rolled my eyes and walked over to the plane.

There were still some small towers of smoke that rose from the wreckage. That means that it’s still burning. That gave me an idea! If I could get it started, then I could build a signal fire! Someone would surely notice the 100ft tower of smoke if I made one! Yes! I just have to find a whole bunch of burnable stuff and make the flames bigger! Ha, ha!

 Island: 0, Kenya: 1!

I ran off into the jungle to go search for some dry, flammable stuff. Although, everything on this island was dry. I glanced over at Michael. He was sleeping. Lazy bum. Fine. I’ll let him sleep. Only because he’s Michael Jackson! When he wakes up though, I’m going to give him heck because while he sleeps I’m working my butt off to make a signal fire to get us off of this island!

It took me three hours to get a decent pile of leaves, sticks and grass to burn. I threw them all onto the burning remains of the plane. I hoped that it would just ignite like that, but no. Life just has to make things difficult!

I grabbed the eyeglasses that I had taken off of that guy’s face and I used the sun’s rays to make a tiny dot that would eventually burn the foliage. One thing I’ve learnt while being stranded on an island is that using eyeglasses to make a fire takes forever! Mostly because I get impatient and I move around and that wrecks the whole thing and makes it take longer!

About an hour and a half later, I had gotten a flame. Michael also woke up. He walked over to me and yawned.

“Oh? You’re still tired? Why don’t you go and sleep,” I said sarcastically.

“Look, I’m 53, I’ve been working my entire life, cut me some slack!”

“Well you haven’t been working for the past three years,” I retorted.

“Watch it!” He warned. I smiled. Now I knew how to push his buttons. This could be useful for later...

“What are you doing?” he asked me.

“I’m building a signal fire. The smoke should catch someone’s attention and get us off of this island! We’ve just got to keep it burning until we get rescued,” I replied.

“Good idea! I should have thought of that!” Michael said.

“You know what you should think of?” I asked.

“What?” he asked in a tone that told me that he had a feeling that I would reply with a smart comment.

“You should write a song and make up a dance about being on this island. You seem to only be useful for that,” I insulted.

“Okay! Why are you being so rude to me all of a sudden?” he asked me. He was clearly irritated with my attitude change.

“You’re Michael Jackson! You’ve been working your entire life! How come you decide to turn lazy the time that someone actually needs you! I need you to do something around here! You can’t expect me to do all of the work on my own!” I replied.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“Thanks, but to really make it up to me, you should gather a big pile of sticks, leaves and grass. Bring it all near this giant fire so that we can use it to burn later when the fire starts to get smaller,” I suggested. He sighed.

“Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll be back later,” he said. I smiled as I watched him roam off into the jungle.

He better not get lost. The only place he probably knows like the back of his hand would be the recording studio! He’ll be fine.

Hopefully.