Anyway, the reason I was pondering this problem at 3 a.m. was that a story idea has occurred to me, a revisionist take on the story in which Ann Darrow is not rescued and remains on the island, though Kong has died. It might be something for Sirenia Digest 17, or maybe 18. I do not yet know.
The reason King Kong was on my mind in the first place was that last night we finally watched the extended version (and deleted scenes) of Peter Jackson's 2005 remake. The extended cut, 13 minutes longer than the theatrical release, is a much smoother film, the Skull Island portion of the story not so choppy and the series of events more comprehensible. Also, we get to see the search party attacked by a charging Ferrucutus cerastes (one of Skull Island's fictional Cenozoic ceratopsian dinosaurs), as well the deleted raft scene in which Driscoll and Co. battle first a hoard of "scorpio-pedes" (Nepapede harpagabdominus) and then an enormous predatory fish, Piranhadon titanus, and we also get a brief encounter with an unfortunate Brutornis (one of the island's fictional giant flightless birds).
We had a good walk yesterday, just before the storms began (heralding a spell of cooler weather). We headed down Sinclair and talked with Daisy the Dog and petted her, and then Spooky placed a four-leaf clover on the head of the Dinosaur of Sinclair Avenue. Shortly thereafter, though, I smacked my head on a dogwood limb and we found a dead brown snake in someone's driveway. Spooky moved it into the grass, and we both got kind of sad, wondering what's become of Drinker in a world where small snakes don't just have to worry about their natural predators, but also domestic cats, leaf blowers, and automobile tires.
I must go write. I've written nothing since March 28th, when I did a measly 575 words on an aborted beginning for The Dinosaurs of Mars, and nothing of consequence since March 12th, when I finished "In View of Nothing" for Sirenia Digest 16. Well, I did write the article for Locus on the 14th, but I'm not sure I should count that. First we had to proofread Silk, which we didn't finish until the 22nd, and then the iBook trouble began on the 29th, precipitating the Coming of the Unnamed iMac and all the distractions that has entailed. Between one thing and another, and with the help of a couple of bad days and Procrastination (one of the Nine Seven Deadly Sins of Writing, you'll recall)...well, that's how it's gotten to be April 4th with nothing of consequence written since mid-March. But it has to stop today. I have to deal with the digest, write a new short story for an upcoming anthology, and get to The Dinosaurs of Mars. And take time for Alabama Bound and then the Frank Woodward documentary at the end of the month. Argh. The platypus says stop typing and start writing, and I must heed hisherits demands forthwith.