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.


Minnie-sota said...

Gosh, this takes me back to my days on the beach. There were boobies too. Yes, those kind. :-)

Yvette said...

two words-sandy crotches. And you thought rug burn was bad.

skeet said...

sand can end up in places you never knew you had.... and no.... it does not become a pearl.

Yvette said...

you sure about that skeet? Maybe you didn't let it cultivate long enough.

skeetlana said...

probably not... but if i put a touch of carbon in my vajanie and squeeze really tight i would have a diamond.... i gotta poon like a vice grip.