Involved read: Eight arms.

When the octopus grabbed hold of Kenny's leg I knew he'd had it. I could see his skin turning blue and I'll never forget the look on his face when we were trying to pull him back in the boat; despair. There's no other way to describe it. His eyes went hollow. It was kind of like looking at one of those photos of a road that seems to go on forever, you know? Maybe he was giving the once in a lifetime chance to die look? He didn't even scream. All of the yelling was coming from Sarah and me. We never even got the chance to see the damn thing either! I thought we'd tear his arm off, the way we yanked him toward us, but it was obvious that he was a goner. When he finally went under his face hit the side of the boat and then he was suddenly not there anymore. Sarah went nuts! I couldn't even do anything about it because I couldn't move. I wasn't catatonic, but I just sat there with my mouth open trying to process what just happened. She collapsed and with a panicked tone she started telling me that we had to get back to land. I followed her instructions and took us back to the dock. We didn't speak the rest of the way. I stared straight ahead and she just kept staring into the black water.

That night, after a trip to the Police station to explain what happened to our friend, I'll never forget the look on this one cop's face when I told him that Kenny was taken by an octopus. It was obvious that he didn't believe me, but Sarah had a huge meltdown and he started treating us like the victims instead of possible murder suspects. After about an hour or so, Sarah took me home and she cried the whole way there. We didn't listen to the radio. I started to come to terms with the whole thing after I got out of her car and started up the driveway toward my house. Before I put my key in the door I started to worry about her. In her state she's liable to drive off of a cliff and not realize it because it's hard to see the road when your eyes are full of tears. I called her cellphone and listened to it ring clearly from both my phone and from somewhere down at the end of my driveway. She never left. I walked around the front of the car as her friend, but I suddenly had a flash of a sexual image in my head. I thought about holding her, comforting her... kissing her. It's sometimes messed up the way the mind works. Six hours ago her and Kenny were were kissing. He had her at the front of the boat with his hands all over her ass and his tongue shoved down her throat. Coincidentally, her throat was part of the sexual image that flashed into my head earlier; blow job.

After keeping silent for most of the day, she finally spoke. She asked if she could spend the night with me. I was at the crossroads indeed. Is it betraying a friend if he's dead and his girlfriend comes around looking for a little comfort and a stiff cocktail or four? Of course I said yes. Not referring to anything remotely referring to betrayal, I said yes about her spending the night. The next morning we had a few cups of coffee and replayed last night to each other. We spoke about everything from the octopus to the blow job I didn't get. It was weird... we were sad, but we were laughing. She left in one of my shirts. After she left I tried to straighten up my place a bit. Got half of it done before trading off in favor of a good nap.

A few days went by and I hadn't heard from Sarah. We both needed some time to mourn, so not seeing each other was normal, she wasn't really a close friend anyway. She was just Kenny's girlfriend that he brought along once in a while, but I just had to know if she was okay. I went by her house and noticed her little blue car sitting in front. That meant she was home. That girl never went anywhere that she couldn't drive to. I knocked for a while and gave up. Was she sleeping? Taking a bath? I waited outside for forty five minutes before calling it quits. When I got home I called the police to anonymously report a burglary in progress at Sarah's house. I'd have to make the cops stumble upon her. Little did I know that she would be discovered dead on her living room couch surrounded by a bunch of pill bottles. Even the news came around. It was the big thing: Woman found dead Apparent Suicide! At least she died with her clothes on, I thought.

Their faces are stuck in my head all the time now. I can't even make a sandwich without seeing Ken's face in my jar of mayo. I'm a little ashamed to admit that I only see Sarah when I'm in the shower. Since they died I feel really lonely. I have other friends, but Kenny and I were the tightest. We grew up together. We were on the same sports teams, ate dinner at each others house. When we got older we messed around with a couple of the same girls, sometimes at the same time. I miss him a whole lot. Did he suffer much? I hope not. The whole thing happened pretty quick, but at the time it felt like we were pulling at his arm for two days. I don't go out on the boat anymore either. It's been sitting at the dock with a for sale sign on it for about four months now. Sometimes my imagination runs off and I think that people might know that someone died on it and that's why nobody wants to buy it. A few weeks ago a couple of policemen knocked at my door to let me know that they still haven't found his body yet, but they were able to recover his wallet. They handed it to me in a small, clear bag. The only reason they brought it to me was because before we got on the boat I asked him if he'd hold my drivers license for me and it was still in there right next to his. Since the only family he had left was an alcoholic brother who didn't give a crap who lived or died as long as he could be a miserable drunk, I got it. When the cops talked to him, he told them he didn't want anything from anybody. So the cops told me that they felt I should be the rightful owner. After they left I decided to go through it and noticed that there was nine dollars in it. I just broke down and cried. It was that exact moment when the gravity of this whole thing knocked me off of my seat. I called Sarah. She wasn't home.