Monday, August 18, 2008
To Fauxhawk And Svetlana On Miller Beach
We all knew exactly what was going on. You, Fauxhawk Boy, and you underfed Russian footwear model – no one was fooled. From the moment he peeled aside Svetlana's bikini top so Fauxhawk’s bro could snap some pictures of him enjoying the nipple of her small breast, I understood everything. With his cell phone camera, no less.
Fauxhawk began digging a deep hole in the sand, and my suspicions made a racket of noise between my ears. Everything was confirmed when I saw the girl crawl into your pit. Her ankles in the air were my first hard evidence. The sweat on your brow, sir, and the jerking motion of your torso… Well, what can I say? Sometimes I know things.
We saw all we needed to see. No, the Indian families to your left were not fooled. The elderly couple to your right acted nonchalant, although Grandpa was eager to climb up a dune for a better view. I ‘d like to remind everyone that Grandpa bears some blame for his chest pain that day. Grandpa might have considered bacon and beer less often in his youth, instead of climbing up impossibly steep sand dunes for a better view of two kids having sex in a sand pit after lunch, when he is clearly near death.
An hour spent digging in the sand for two minutes of bliss? Not unheard of. No.