Ask for Fall from Grace by Eileen Dover.
After the plane crash, the pilot, co-pilot, and Tom Hanks struggle ashore on the remote desert island.
With three of them, they get a lot done, they have many adventures, they have life pretty good.
Apart from being lost on a desert island for years, of course.
But hey, they make the most of it. They rig up a volleyball net using videotape from one of the packages, and they play beach volleyball. A bit rough, a little lopsided, but they have fun.
They sit around the campfire, once they figure out how to get one started, talking long into the night, solving all the problems of the world.
One day, digging in the sand, they discover an old lamp. When the pilot takes out a rag of his uniform jacket to shine it up a little, a genie appears, looks at the three ragged castaways, and says, “I will grant you one wish each. Think carefully before you ask. These things have a way of going wrong.”
The co-pilot immediately flings his hands in the air, screams for joy and shouts, “I wish I was back home in bed with my wife!”
Poof! He vanishes.
The pilot jumps up, yells, “Me too!” and likewise disappears in a flash.
Silence. The genie looks at Tom Hanks, who is pondering exactly how that last wish might have panned out.
“Just hang on a second. I’m thinking. This is critical. I can do great good for humanity with one wish.”
He looks at the volleyball, picks it up, starts mumbling to it, “If mmm only… No, if you could just you know, talk… I wish… No, mustn’t even think it…”
An hour goes by. Tom Hanks is still mumbling to the volleyball, a Wilson brand volleyball, as it happens. The genie checks his watch.
Tom, still holding the volleyball, says, “I need more time. I can’t do this by myself. It’s too important. I’ve got to get the wording exactly right, I just wish my friends were back here to help me.”
My wife asked me to pass her the lip balm, but I accidentally gave her the super glue instead.
She’s still not talking to me.
I wonder what the previous generation did to fight boredom before the internet. I asked my fifteen brothers and sisters and they didn’t know either.
I was kidnapped by a troupe of mimes. They performed unspeakable acts upon me.
My dad served in the war, fighting in an assault vehicle, surviving mustard gas and pepper spray. He is a seasoned veteran.
Offbeat, I know, but I’ve become addicted to brake fluid. My friends are horrified, but I reassure them by telling them that I can stop whenever I want.
How does Father Christmas like his pizza?
Deep pan, crisp, and even.
I stayed up all night, trying to work out where the sun went. Then it dawned on me.
I asked my North Korean friend how things were going for him. “Can’t complain,” he said.