Jeff Wysaski
Nancy said she was getting too much sun, so I told her to tie her towel around her waist. “I don’t think that’ll work,” she answered. “Why not?” I asked. “Because the towel you brought is way too small,” she said, reaching under her thigh and pulling up the washcloth for me to see. “Or, maybe your butt is too big,” I replied.
The wave was coming toward me, so I laid flat on the surfboard and started paddling. The wave came closer, and when the time felt right, I stood up on the board – but I guess I timed it wrong because the wave just kept on going without me. “What am I doing wrong?” I said to a nearby surfer. “Try getting in the water first,” he said.
The red kite had a longer tail, but I wanted the blue one because it was bigger. So I pushed the kid on the right to the ground and snapped up the line of string before “old bluey” could fly away.
“I better not ever catch you walking around in one of those,” Nancy whispered as the man in the Speedo walked by. “No need to worry about that,” I responded. “Unless, of course, you’re planning on showing up to my quarterly earnings presentation on Thursday.”
With the hot sun beating down, the coldness of the ice cream was nice. But soon, the ice cream began to melt, and my chest started to feel just as hot and sweaty as before (plus more sticky).
“Where is Freddy?” Nancy asked. “I buried him in the sand over there,” I replied. “Where?” she responded. “Right there,” I answered. “I don’t see him,” she retorted. “Yeah, because I BURIED HIM in the sand!” I shot back. “Head and all?” she countered. “Geez, you sound just like Freddy,” I came back with. Nancy said something else before she got up, but I can’t repeat it here. Because I can’t think of any other synonyms for “replied.”
“There’s nothing prettier than a sunset,” I said as the two of us held hands and walked alone on the shore. “Yeah,” said the man in the Speedo.
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