Life's a Beach

Life's a Beach

Harmon 1

Jenna Harmon
Dr. Bridge
English 1101 53
31 August 2007
Life's a Beach

Following a hard week's work, I decided I deserved a little "me" time. What better way to relax than on a luxurious beach? That was my first mistake.
I managed to squeeze into last year's bathing suit (Give me a break! So I gained some holiday weight!), and packed the essentials: water, a towel, sunscreen, you name it.
Living only ten minutes away from the beach, I thought a little exercise could do me some good. Apparently not. I was almost creamed by two cars and a semi, whistled at by three homeless men, and literally knocked down (not to mention scattered my belongings) by a caring cyclist.
By the time I reached my destination, I was so exhausted; there was no possibility of me returning home alive. So I slumped to the ground and prepared to burn.  
While I basked in the sunlight, my hand, weak from the intensity of the heat, reached ever so slowly for some much needed sunscreen. I paused, and suddenly realize my one true love of the moment had disappeared. I sat up frantically, knocked down (which drained) the last of my beverage, and hastily dug into my oversized not-really-necessary-yet-trendy handbag. Horror washed over my body as I grasped the idea that my little slice of heaven had deserted me. I hanged my head, almost in shame, and dragged my feet across the blazing hot sand to the water.
Thinking of how unfair the world was being to me at the moment, the worry and panic
Harmon 2

slipped away with each wave that crawled over my sandy feet. I smiled and enjoyed the ocean as it comforted me in my time of need. The salty aqua quickly rose, and faded away like it never touched me. I stopped at waist level and sank to my knees. I felt at home; the ocean was my bathtub.
Then I felt it. It was slimy, with a long body, and a dagger for a tail. It swooped past and sort of flicked me with his unusually colossal end. Naturally, I was in a...