Swim lessons. Nothin' else to do on this pea of an island.
Quite naturally, they'd tried to snag him on the benefits. You can't hope to be earthbound forever, ya know. But he maintained he'd already spent nine months swimming inside his mother, and as far as he was concerned that had been nine months held hostage. Eleven years later, he was still shaking off the claustrophobia. Sorry, Mom.
A short moment of reflection followed, where he touched his finger to his nose. Then he'd turned back, a warm smile and a flippant wave replacing his silence. Smell ya later, tadpoles.
His steps puffed the sand as he ran to where the Tornado sat in the sunshine, bathed in wind and briny sea. Red as a cardinal, she struck a rich contrast against the beach greenery. Probably too rich for this little islet.
He kicked grit off his seat and hopped in, knowing today would turn out the same as yesterday and the day before. Not that it mattered. No fuel, stillborn needle, no problem. He could always grip the yoke and pretend the ocean dry anyway.
Nobody's gonna teach this stone to swim, he said, pulling back the throttle.