TITLE: Wacky Beach Party!
AUTHOR: Kevin Schultz
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: davros72@prodigy.net
FEEDBACK: Yes, please
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: I'm fine with it, just let me know where it'll be, that's all I ask.
CATEGORY: General, humor, parody
RATING/WARNINGS: PG (brief nudity)
MAIN CHARACTERS: Rebecca, Jules, Phileas, Passepartout
DISCLAIMER: SAJV and characters copyright Talisman/Promark/etc., no
infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Perhaps I should get insomnia more often? Or perhaps I should get therapy? Either way, here's another goofy idea that crept into my sleepless brain. Don't ask me to explain why or how, I don't know. It is what it is (including a bit self-indulgent). And then some. Enjoy!
**********
Jules looked up from the pages of his journal. Even in the shade of the pavilion, he had to squint in the bright sunshine, which shone so bright even through his sunglasses that he still had to squint, just like it said towards the beginning of this rambling sentence. He looked down the beach, seeing all the bathers and frollickers in their swimsuits, playing their games, having their fun. "Ha!" he thought to himself, as he took a sip of his Coca-Cola. "They're out there exercising their bodies, while I'm actually having the most fun, exercising my mind," he thought triumphantly. He looked back down at the pages of his journal. He picked up his ballpoint pen and began to write once more.
"...Still not having any fun..."
*****
Further down the beach, nearer the crashing surf, Phileas stood proudly. He thwacked the shuttlecock over the net, causing his opponent, Passepartout, to lunge at it, but it was a lunge that was in vain. Passepartout missed, and flopped face-first into the sand. Phileas grinned, and said, "And that would be game to me, I believe, Passepartout."
Phileas strolled over to help Passepartout stand up. Passepartout scrambled out of the dirt, and brushed the sand off his skin. "Master, I am not sure of this 'French players must be holding beachball in left hand during match' rules. Are you being sure this is correct rules of badminton, Master?" He threw away the plastic beachball.
Phileas turned to lead Passepartout down the beach away from the badminton net. "Of course it is, Passepartout, and how dare you question me otherwise."
"Yes, Master."
"Ah, there's Rebecca," Phileas stated as he caught sight of his cousin a short distance away. Phileas smiled and waved at her. "Come on, Passepartout, time to rest for a bit."
"Yes, Master," Passepartout agreed, wholeheartedly.
*****
Rebecca spread out the beach towel and placed the four rocks she had found nearby on each corner, to prevent the towel from flying away in the breeze. She took off her straw hat, and removed her robe. Her skimpy, two-piece, purple-and-black polka-dot bikini left little to the imagination, which was just how the other guys on the beach liked it. A few of them wolf-whistled at her as she stretched and sat down on the towel. She smiled politely at the young fellows nearby, and waggled her eyebrows at a few of them.
She took out her bottle of suntan oil, and began spreading it on her skin. A number of the whistlers called out that they could help, but she waved them all off. She finished oiling herself up, and laid down on the towel, propping her head up on a little pile of towels and shoes and such that she collected into a makeshift pillow.
Phileas and Passepartout arrived just then. Rebecca looked at them over the top of her sunglasses. "Nice outfits, boys," she giggled as she took in their striped swimtrunks.
Phileas replied quickly, "I'll have you know that these are the 'latest thing', Rebecca. The salesperson told me so."
Passepartout nodded. "We are very much liking the Sixties, Miss Rebecca," he said with a huge grin as he appreciated her outfit in turn.
"Where's Jules?" Phileas asked.
Rebecca sighed. "Oh, he's over there in the covered pavilion, writing again, of course. Afraid of getting, what was the phrase... 'sunburned', I believe."
Phileas frowned. "But it's almost time for the band!"
Passepartout chimed in. "Yes, we are hearing many good things of these music people."
Rebecca smiled at the two men. "Well, with a name like Cap'n Geech and the Shrimp Shack Shooters, how could they dare *not* be good?"
*****
Jules looked up as someone bumped into his table.
"Oh, uh, 'scuse me, fella," that someone said. "You're gonna hafta move, Daddy-O. See, we gotta play our number for the kids, dig?"
Jules closed his journal and stood up, making room for the men filing into the pavilion, who proceeded to clear everything out and bring some weird musical instruments in. "I don't think I understood most of what you just said," Jules said with a smile, "but I'm just going to go away now. Excuse me."
"Cool, man," said that someone from two paragraphs ago.
*****
Rebecca looked up as Jules flopped down in the sand next to her. "I got kicked out by musicians," he said glumly.
Phileas laughed. "Poor Jules."
Rebecca patted Jules' hand. "That's OK, Jules, we dig your kooky bookishness. And take that flannel shirt off, you square!"
"Yeah, get with it, man!" said Phileas.
"Time to be swinging with the hep-cats, Master Jules!" Passepartout grinned.
Suddenly, everyone around them jumped up and rushed towards the pavilion. The band had set up, and were ready to start playing. They counted off, and kicked into a rockin' version of their biggest hit, "Shrimp Shack!"
Jules, now shirtless, was dragged along as Rebecca jumped up, grabbed his hand, and led him, with Phileas and Passepartout in tow, to join the throng of kids twisting and dancing their tails off to the zippy little tune. Rebecca turned quite a few young men's heads with her smooth, athletic gyrations, her bikini staying on her seemingly as if by magic. Jules, Phileas and Passepartout, with their own special kooky dance-steps, turned quite a few of the heads of the young ladies. Passepartout's amazing flexibility elicited a few gasps from the crowd. Phileas' more reserved, cool dancing attracted his share of admirers. Jules, with his imaginative wacky moves, raised quite a few ladies' eyebrows himself.
The band finished their number. "Thank you everyone! It's great to be here! And now for the B-side of our latest hit record. It's time to 'Get Flyin'!" The drummer counted them off, and they were swinging into their next hit tune.
Suddenly a voice cried out, "Hey! It's time for the big surf competition!"
Everyone cheered, and ran to another part of the beach en masse, the band trailing after them, playing their catchy tune.
"I'd almost forgotten," Rebecca said. "I've entered us all in the surfing competition, hope you don't mind."
They rushed over to the nearby collection of surfboards, and claimed their boards.
"Gosh, Rebecca, I wish you'd given us more notice, I haven't had time to practice!" Jules said.
"Yes, Rebecca," said Phileas. "And I promised young Gidget over there that we'd join her group for a spot of volleyball."
"Oh, don't worry, boys," Rebecca said as she ran towards the ocean and the crashing surf. "Plenty of time for that later!"
Passepartout hefted his board, and said, "When in Santa Monica, we should be doing as the Santa Monicans are doing!" He ran off into the water.
Jules and Phileas looked at each other. Then each suddenly dashed quickly away and into the warm ocean water, and paddled out to sea.
The competition went on for some time, and, as luck would have it, the four finalists were Rebecca, Phileas, Jules, and Passepartout. Oh, come on, like you expected anything else? Get with it, man!
On their surfboards, the four finalists realized they were the only ones left. Time was a-wasting, and they saw that they needed only one really good chance to win this competition. They looked out to sea, and saw a huge, churning, crashing, blasting wave heading their way. They looked back at each other, and smiled. Each smiled a very evil grin, because each of them thought they had the upper hand.
Rebecca thought she had it in the bag due to her poise, her quick-thinking, and because of her fabulously toned body. Jules thought he would win thanks to his logical, imaginative brain, and the little steam-powered stabilizing gizmo he had hooked up to his surfboard. Passepartout figured he stood a good chance due to his willingness to throw himself into anything wholeheartedly, and because he could do such amazing things with his limbs and his body. Phileas reasoned that he would win because... well, because he figured he would win, of course.
The huge wave churned ever nearer. The four surfers readied themselves on their boards, preparing to take charge and ride like the wind. Suddenly the powerful wave was upon them, and they were off!
Jules was the first to go by the wayside, as his stabilizer ended up being totally useless. Then Phileas went down, a shocked look on his face as he tumbled into the water. Rebecca and Passepartout remained, and were neck and neck for some time. Then, suddenly, Rebecca leaned just a bit too far forward, and flipped over, and crashed into the water. Passepartout saw Rebecca fall, and laughed, crying out, "Yes! I am being the winner!" And just as suddenly, the wave crashed over him.
The party-goers on the beach gasped as they saw Passepartout get caught in the huge wave. Then, just as suddenly as in the last paragraph, Passepartout burst out of the wave, still standing, his balance steady as ever.
Jules, Phileas, and Rebecca collected their surfboards and paddled towards land. Passepartout masterfully glided onto the beach, maintaining his balance atop his surfboard the entire time. The crowd went wild and surged around him, lifting him up onto their shoulders, and carrying him a short distance away. Cap'n Geech and the Shrimp Shack Shooters kicked into another song, this time their kookiest song ever, "Shack This, Daddy-O!"
As the three runners-up trudged up the beach, Phileas turned to Rebecca. "I say, Rebecca, dear cousin..."
"Yes, Phileas?" Rebecca said.
"Lose anything?" Phileas smiled.
Rebecca stopped, and looked down, only to find that her bikini top had gone missing in the battle against the final wave. She looked back at Phileas. He was laughing, and twirling her polka-dot bikini on his index finger. "Phileas, give that back this instant!"
Phileas started running away, dropping his surfboard for more speed. Just as Rebecca was about to catch up to him, he tossed her top to Jules, who, looking the other way, was caught unawares as the bikini plopped on top of his head, blinding him. "What the..."
Rebecca quickly rushed over and grabbed her top from Jules, and swiftly put it back on. "How dare you, Phileas?"
"Come on, Rebecca, don't be such a square!" Phileas laughed.
Jules looked confused.
"Oh, shut up, Phileas, let's all go see how Passepartout is doing," Rebecca said, her tone indicating she'd already forgiven Phileas.
The three of them jogged over to the rockin' party, to find Passepartout dancing away with some fine-looking young surfer girls. Everyone started dancing again, as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky.
*****
Night-time fell, but quickly got back on its feet with the help of the full (and therefore less-affected by the alcohol) moon.
The party-goers were still going strong. Cap'n Geech and the Shrimp Shack Shooters had left, but now the dancers were movin' and shakin' to the sounds of the nearby radio.
It was still warm out. The dancers danced on. Eventually, Jules, Rebecca, Phileas, and Big Kahuna Passepartout extricated themselves from the throng of partiers.
Phileas strolled away, a striking young lady who looked a lot like the younger sister of an actress who would not become famous until well after the 1960's on his arm. "Doesn't the moon look lovely tonight," he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Passepartout walked excitedly along the beach with another lovely young lady hanging on his every mangled phrase. "You are having a very charming southern accent, miss," he said to the young lady.
Jules led a beautiful woman off in another direction, saying to her, "I think Jana is a very pretty name..."
Rebecca, meanwhile, danced off in the direction of her bungalow with a handsome, dark-haired young man with a goatee. "'Rebeccadoration', I like the sound of that a lot," she said with a warm smile...
...THE END...
AUTHOR: Kevin Schultz
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: davros72@prodigy.net
FEEDBACK: Yes, please
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: I'm fine with it, just let me know where it'll be, that's all I ask.
CATEGORY: General, humor, parody
RATING/WARNINGS: PG (brief nudity)
MAIN CHARACTERS: Rebecca, Jules, Phileas, Passepartout
DISCLAIMER: SAJV and characters copyright Talisman/Promark/etc., no
infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Perhaps I should get insomnia more often? Or perhaps I should get therapy? Either way, here's another goofy idea that crept into my sleepless brain. Don't ask me to explain why or how, I don't know. It is what it is (including a bit self-indulgent). And then some. Enjoy!
**********
Jules looked up from the pages of his journal. Even in the shade of the pavilion, he had to squint in the bright sunshine, which shone so bright even through his sunglasses that he still had to squint, just like it said towards the beginning of this rambling sentence. He looked down the beach, seeing all the bathers and frollickers in their swimsuits, playing their games, having their fun. "Ha!" he thought to himself, as he took a sip of his Coca-Cola. "They're out there exercising their bodies, while I'm actually having the most fun, exercising my mind," he thought triumphantly. He looked back down at the pages of his journal. He picked up his ballpoint pen and began to write once more.
"...Still not having any fun..."
*****
Further down the beach, nearer the crashing surf, Phileas stood proudly. He thwacked the shuttlecock over the net, causing his opponent, Passepartout, to lunge at it, but it was a lunge that was in vain. Passepartout missed, and flopped face-first into the sand. Phileas grinned, and said, "And that would be game to me, I believe, Passepartout."
Phileas strolled over to help Passepartout stand up. Passepartout scrambled out of the dirt, and brushed the sand off his skin. "Master, I am not sure of this 'French players must be holding beachball in left hand during match' rules. Are you being sure this is correct rules of badminton, Master?" He threw away the plastic beachball.
Phileas turned to lead Passepartout down the beach away from the badminton net. "Of course it is, Passepartout, and how dare you question me otherwise."
"Yes, Master."
"Ah, there's Rebecca," Phileas stated as he caught sight of his cousin a short distance away. Phileas smiled and waved at her. "Come on, Passepartout, time to rest for a bit."
"Yes, Master," Passepartout agreed, wholeheartedly.
*****
Rebecca spread out the beach towel and placed the four rocks she had found nearby on each corner, to prevent the towel from flying away in the breeze. She took off her straw hat, and removed her robe. Her skimpy, two-piece, purple-and-black polka-dot bikini left little to the imagination, which was just how the other guys on the beach liked it. A few of them wolf-whistled at her as she stretched and sat down on the towel. She smiled politely at the young fellows nearby, and waggled her eyebrows at a few of them.
She took out her bottle of suntan oil, and began spreading it on her skin. A number of the whistlers called out that they could help, but she waved them all off. She finished oiling herself up, and laid down on the towel, propping her head up on a little pile of towels and shoes and such that she collected into a makeshift pillow.
Phileas and Passepartout arrived just then. Rebecca looked at them over the top of her sunglasses. "Nice outfits, boys," she giggled as she took in their striped swimtrunks.
Phileas replied quickly, "I'll have you know that these are the 'latest thing', Rebecca. The salesperson told me so."
Passepartout nodded. "We are very much liking the Sixties, Miss Rebecca," he said with a huge grin as he appreciated her outfit in turn.
"Where's Jules?" Phileas asked.
Rebecca sighed. "Oh, he's over there in the covered pavilion, writing again, of course. Afraid of getting, what was the phrase... 'sunburned', I believe."
Phileas frowned. "But it's almost time for the band!"
Passepartout chimed in. "Yes, we are hearing many good things of these music people."
Rebecca smiled at the two men. "Well, with a name like Cap'n Geech and the Shrimp Shack Shooters, how could they dare *not* be good?"
*****
Jules looked up as someone bumped into his table.
"Oh, uh, 'scuse me, fella," that someone said. "You're gonna hafta move, Daddy-O. See, we gotta play our number for the kids, dig?"
Jules closed his journal and stood up, making room for the men filing into the pavilion, who proceeded to clear everything out and bring some weird musical instruments in. "I don't think I understood most of what you just said," Jules said with a smile, "but I'm just going to go away now. Excuse me."
"Cool, man," said that someone from two paragraphs ago.
*****
Rebecca looked up as Jules flopped down in the sand next to her. "I got kicked out by musicians," he said glumly.
Phileas laughed. "Poor Jules."
Rebecca patted Jules' hand. "That's OK, Jules, we dig your kooky bookishness. And take that flannel shirt off, you square!"
"Yeah, get with it, man!" said Phileas.
"Time to be swinging with the hep-cats, Master Jules!" Passepartout grinned.
Suddenly, everyone around them jumped up and rushed towards the pavilion. The band had set up, and were ready to start playing. They counted off, and kicked into a rockin' version of their biggest hit, "Shrimp Shack!"
Jules, now shirtless, was dragged along as Rebecca jumped up, grabbed his hand, and led him, with Phileas and Passepartout in tow, to join the throng of kids twisting and dancing their tails off to the zippy little tune. Rebecca turned quite a few young men's heads with her smooth, athletic gyrations, her bikini staying on her seemingly as if by magic. Jules, Phileas and Passepartout, with their own special kooky dance-steps, turned quite a few of the heads of the young ladies. Passepartout's amazing flexibility elicited a few gasps from the crowd. Phileas' more reserved, cool dancing attracted his share of admirers. Jules, with his imaginative wacky moves, raised quite a few ladies' eyebrows himself.
The band finished their number. "Thank you everyone! It's great to be here! And now for the B-side of our latest hit record. It's time to 'Get Flyin'!" The drummer counted them off, and they were swinging into their next hit tune.
Suddenly a voice cried out, "Hey! It's time for the big surf competition!"
Everyone cheered, and ran to another part of the beach en masse, the band trailing after them, playing their catchy tune.
"I'd almost forgotten," Rebecca said. "I've entered us all in the surfing competition, hope you don't mind."
They rushed over to the nearby collection of surfboards, and claimed their boards.
"Gosh, Rebecca, I wish you'd given us more notice, I haven't had time to practice!" Jules said.
"Yes, Rebecca," said Phileas. "And I promised young Gidget over there that we'd join her group for a spot of volleyball."
"Oh, don't worry, boys," Rebecca said as she ran towards the ocean and the crashing surf. "Plenty of time for that later!"
Passepartout hefted his board, and said, "When in Santa Monica, we should be doing as the Santa Monicans are doing!" He ran off into the water.
Jules and Phileas looked at each other. Then each suddenly dashed quickly away and into the warm ocean water, and paddled out to sea.
The competition went on for some time, and, as luck would have it, the four finalists were Rebecca, Phileas, Jules, and Passepartout. Oh, come on, like you expected anything else? Get with it, man!
On their surfboards, the four finalists realized they were the only ones left. Time was a-wasting, and they saw that they needed only one really good chance to win this competition. They looked out to sea, and saw a huge, churning, crashing, blasting wave heading their way. They looked back at each other, and smiled. Each smiled a very evil grin, because each of them thought they had the upper hand.
Rebecca thought she had it in the bag due to her poise, her quick-thinking, and because of her fabulously toned body. Jules thought he would win thanks to his logical, imaginative brain, and the little steam-powered stabilizing gizmo he had hooked up to his surfboard. Passepartout figured he stood a good chance due to his willingness to throw himself into anything wholeheartedly, and because he could do such amazing things with his limbs and his body. Phileas reasoned that he would win because... well, because he figured he would win, of course.
The huge wave churned ever nearer. The four surfers readied themselves on their boards, preparing to take charge and ride like the wind. Suddenly the powerful wave was upon them, and they were off!
Jules was the first to go by the wayside, as his stabilizer ended up being totally useless. Then Phileas went down, a shocked look on his face as he tumbled into the water. Rebecca and Passepartout remained, and were neck and neck for some time. Then, suddenly, Rebecca leaned just a bit too far forward, and flipped over, and crashed into the water. Passepartout saw Rebecca fall, and laughed, crying out, "Yes! I am being the winner!" And just as suddenly, the wave crashed over him.
The party-goers on the beach gasped as they saw Passepartout get caught in the huge wave. Then, just as suddenly as in the last paragraph, Passepartout burst out of the wave, still standing, his balance steady as ever.
Jules, Phileas, and Rebecca collected their surfboards and paddled towards land. Passepartout masterfully glided onto the beach, maintaining his balance atop his surfboard the entire time. The crowd went wild and surged around him, lifting him up onto their shoulders, and carrying him a short distance away. Cap'n Geech and the Shrimp Shack Shooters kicked into another song, this time their kookiest song ever, "Shack This, Daddy-O!"
As the three runners-up trudged up the beach, Phileas turned to Rebecca. "I say, Rebecca, dear cousin..."
"Yes, Phileas?" Rebecca said.
"Lose anything?" Phileas smiled.
Rebecca stopped, and looked down, only to find that her bikini top had gone missing in the battle against the final wave. She looked back at Phileas. He was laughing, and twirling her polka-dot bikini on his index finger. "Phileas, give that back this instant!"
Phileas started running away, dropping his surfboard for more speed. Just as Rebecca was about to catch up to him, he tossed her top to Jules, who, looking the other way, was caught unawares as the bikini plopped on top of his head, blinding him. "What the..."
Rebecca quickly rushed over and grabbed her top from Jules, and swiftly put it back on. "How dare you, Phileas?"
"Come on, Rebecca, don't be such a square!" Phileas laughed.
Jules looked confused.
"Oh, shut up, Phileas, let's all go see how Passepartout is doing," Rebecca said, her tone indicating she'd already forgiven Phileas.
The three of them jogged over to the rockin' party, to find Passepartout dancing away with some fine-looking young surfer girls. Everyone started dancing again, as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky.
*****
Night-time fell, but quickly got back on its feet with the help of the full (and therefore less-affected by the alcohol) moon.
The party-goers were still going strong. Cap'n Geech and the Shrimp Shack Shooters had left, but now the dancers were movin' and shakin' to the sounds of the nearby radio.
It was still warm out. The dancers danced on. Eventually, Jules, Rebecca, Phileas, and Big Kahuna Passepartout extricated themselves from the throng of partiers.
Phileas strolled away, a striking young lady who looked a lot like the younger sister of an actress who would not become famous until well after the 1960's on his arm. "Doesn't the moon look lovely tonight," he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Passepartout walked excitedly along the beach with another lovely young lady hanging on his every mangled phrase. "You are having a very charming southern accent, miss," he said to the young lady.
Jules led a beautiful woman off in another direction, saying to her, "I think Jana is a very pretty name..."
Rebecca, meanwhile, danced off in the direction of her bungalow with a handsome, dark-haired young man with a goatee. "'Rebeccadoration', I like the sound of that a lot," she said with a warm smile...
...THE END...