I've been going to the beach on weekends with my hot lady friend. She gets hotter as she lays in the sun. It's a secret beach. I can't tell anybody where it is as a matter of principle. I've made that mistake before and I've ruined a great beach by word of mouth. People are blabbermouths. It took years before it was ruined, but the last time I was at the great beach, there were models doing photo shoots and people from all over the world speaking in strange tongues with pallid skin. It was a disaster.
I found the new secret beach by accident. I couldn't explain where it is if I tried, that's how secret it is.
When I'm at the beach flocks of pelicans fly overhead. They do maneuvers, drills of some sort. They're organized flyers with multiple formations. They look well fed, and as of yet, I haven't been able to determine who the ring leader is. I'm amazed they can fly as well as they do. They're chubby birds, viable replacements for Thanksgiving. With all the fish they eat, there's a good chance they taste like sushi.
No comments:
Post a Comment