chicks and beaches, you know

The girl stood there chewing her gum obnoxiously using only her back molars. Like a cracked out cow chewing its cud.

"Like, ah my gawd- you're the guy who writes that blog."

I looked up from the injured baby seagull I had been tending to. An hour earlier I found the bird struggling to stay afloat in the water, about three miles out. What was I doing three miles out in the sea you ask? Riding around on some dolphins. After I had hitched a ride back to the shore I whittled the young bird a small leg brace from piece of dried driftwood. I tied the brace to its frail leg using some dried kelp. It had been quite hungry after I applied the brace. I chewed up some of my sandwich and fed it to the young seagull chick like a mother bird would. I was pretty confident that it was going to make a full recovery. I would probably keep it as a pet. Teach it to poop on certain people. Fashion it a bird house out of a dumpster. I had decided that I would name the little chicky "Gulliver."

I nodded at the girl. "Yep. That's me."

"I read your blog like, all the time when I'm like, at the beach."

I smiled at her. "Why thank ya miss, that means a lot."

She looked at me, her bronzed face didn't move at all. Except to chew frivolously on that poor piece of gum. The poof in her hair made her brain appear larger and much more present than it really was. 

"Can you write a blog post about me?"

"Sure, if you'd give me a squirt of that Coppertone sunscreen you got there, I'd be more than happy to."

"Ok, hold out your hand."

I obliged.

[squirt]

*       *       *

The girl stood there chewing her gum obnoxiously using only her back molars. Like a cracked out cow chewing its cud.

"I just read the post. You totally wrote about that other chick way more than me, what the hell?" 

Abram's apple

Abram and his wife Miriam relaxed comfortably on the beach quilt that Miriam's mother had made them the past winter.

Abram had his nose in a piece of fiction. An actual book. Not one of those electronic readers, mind you. Those gave the devil a clear passageway into your soul, through your eyes.

Miriam was busying herself with a game of solitaire. Not on her smartphone, mind you twice. Smartphones gave the devil a clear passageway into your soul through your eyes and your ear.

Nevertheless, Abram and Miriam were enjoying the weather on this fine summer's day. They sipped casually on some spirits that Abram had secretly traded for earlier that day in exchange for a sturdy bedside table that he had constructed. Abram had mixed the spirits with some apple juice for a cocktail he liked to call "Abram's Apple."

They clinked their glasses together. The Amish life wasn't so bad.