Brooke is dealing with a painful break-up. She had to let her feller go after his dad was forced to liquidate his nautical assets following a pesky ATO investigation. 6 months of work completely down the drain.
It wasn’t just that she didn’t have a summer vessel anymore but that her now-ex had the audacity to ask her if she’d like him to grab her a ticket for the ferry that weekend. Who does he think she is? Some kind of ferry riding pleb? It was at the stage she knew she wasn’t the man for her.
Luckily, her pending messages on Instagram is a real who’s who of sea-faring frankenfucks waiting to unleash their monstrous egos on the village people of desperation-ville. A postcode Brooke now unfortunately resided in.
She guarantees her spot on the boat by suggesting Captain Turdseye should make sure there’s some mouthwash available on the bridge. With a single winky emoji, she sealed the deal.
On the boat ride over, she poses with a bevy of other girls she doesn’t know but also have a slightly above average Instagram presence. By the laws of faking it until you make it, these are now her good friends and do an excellent job of pretending to be forging precious memories.
Of course, Brooke was only using him as a free ride over and planned to abandon ship and leave the flog’s balls bluer than the Cookie Monster after going full Micheal Hutchence while pleasuring himself to the site of a fresh pack of naughty Iced VoVos.
To that end, she begins sending out DMs to the various high-end accommodation venues on the island. Describing in vague detail about potential “collaborations”. $1000’s of dollars worth of free accommodation for a story post that only bots will comment on. How could they possibly refuse?
Well, they did. However, she knew a local simp that has kept an eye on her clothesline for the past 8 years. He was glamping with his family and had a spot for her. Influencing on a budget, you gotta love it.
Her Insta and TikTok are now full of luxurious boat content and a tragic insinuation that she was a special guest of the glamping joint. When it comes to being an elite lifestyle stowaway no one does it better.
She convinces her tent-simp to ditch his dad’s bday lunch at the pub and help her take photos of herself at all the main spots around Rotto. How could anyone deny her importance if she’s doing everything a brand ambassador would be doing? Only for free and with no contractual compulsion.
It’s taken all day but Brooke almost has enough content to make the trip over worth it. However, she still must get the perfect #quokkaselfie – the crown jewel on the wannabe brand ambassador tiara.
Now you’d imagine getting her face up close and personal to something small & hairy would be second nature to Brooke. However, on this occasion, the quokka isn’t playing ball and reacts to her desperate attempts to get the perfect angle by biting her right on the face.
She blames her simp for startling the creature and unleashes a feisty rant about how he let her down and half the photos he’s taken today aren’t even story worthy let alone to go on her feed. She makes it clear that these are the reasons he’ll die alone.
Having alienated everyone on the island Brooke finds herself without a spot on the boat back. She does her best to disguise herself as she slinks to the ferry on Sunday morning to scurry back home like a fame rat that got her nose caught in the trap of reality.
It’s about as good as it gets.
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