Outside of the secret cave, where Grong and his bride-to-be were getting to know one another, a man was eating a sandwich. The man wore a wide-brimmed hat. The brim had a small feather in it. The man had a trim black beard with specks of gray. He was on the north side of forty. He was promised a large salary and a chance to really get to know the jungle. He left an unpromising job as a driver’s ed teacher. Though he was on a mysterious island in the middle of nowhere, employed by a talking gorilla, this job was noticeably easier and less stressful than teaching teenagers to drive. He sighed and stared at the tops of the trees. The sun was beginning to set, and the sky took on the nostalgic faded peach color of old book covers.
The sandwich was pastrami and pickle with cream cheese on a bagel. It was the best sandwich.

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