Morning ~ About 11:30
Who's fucking idea was it to
go to the beach? I had much better
things planned for my two days off than this, but, as usual, I got suckered
into going along with whatever insane idea those slackers had in mind. So, here I am, left forgotten in the wake of
three half-dressed goons tripping over each other in their mad dash to the
crashing waves. There happened to be a
large cooler, four bags, and an odd assortment of other beach-related items
scattered at my feet, also left behind.
I supposed they hadn't considered how long it would take me to drag all
this junk down the hill to a spot I'm sure Omi would take hours to
declare suitable. Maybe I should just
leave them here. No…then I wouldn't
hear the end of it for weeks….
Okay, defeated sigh, grudging
submission, lean down, laboriously drag that damn cooler to the water, and ask
where I should put it. Perfectly
planned—easy as that.
"Aya-kun!"
'Well isn't this a pleasant surprise—long time no see. Sorry, can't talk right now, got to play
pack mule for YOU LOSERS,' is what came to mind as I confronted Omi, hopping
toward me over the burning hot sand and leaving an uneven trail of water
leading to the ocean below. Instead I
just glared…as usual.
"Aya-kun, do you need some help carrying the stuff…?" He grinned at me sheepishly, as if apologetic for leaving me in the proverbial dirt. Well, not quite so figurative. There is rather a lot of sand. I sighed and nodded compliantly, handing the boy several bags. Grinning like a maniac, he dashes off in search of a proper 'oasis' for us to lounge in. Oasis my ass…. The whole place looks to me like a desolate wasteland of scorching sand, speckled with humanity seething bliss and enjoyment. It's a perfect rendition of Hell in my eyes. If I live through this trip I'm going to disown all three of them. Grimly, I clutch the handle of the cooler and follow my guide into the depths. People immediately started giving me strange looks as I trudge past them. So what if I'm fully clothed? Modesty should be required on public beaches—especially when you are as obese as the man playing Frisbee in the Speedo I nearly had the pleasure of being crushed by when he overbalanced trying to catch the disc. A few minutes after that incident a girl of about fourteen or fifteen, looking as if she had two watermelons strapped to her chest with nothing but a couple of oversized rubber bands, attempted to sidle closer than I felt was necessary. A little farther along, dodging the crowd of freaks (all of which were mostly likely thinking the exact same thing about me) on the way, Omi stopped so abruptly he backpedaled onto my toes.
"I found the perfect spot!" Omi told me excitedly. At least he hadn't taken too long about it. Running a little bit ahead, he plunked down the bags he was carrying and stood triumphantly grinning at me. "Here!" Wow, the kid managed to find a section of the beach…that looked exactly like every other section of the beach. Opting to keep my mouth shut (as usual), I wade forward, cooler banging my heels which were already a bit raw from the pounds of grinding sand weighing down my shoes. Omi immediately starting organizing and arranging the beach paraphernalia. I kept my distance, as he can be very anal and fussy about making these kinds of things perfectly comfortable and inviting. The sunlight is already starting to get on my nerves—I can hardly see anything it's so blindingly bright, not to mention the fact that I can feel it working horrific wonders on the color of my skin.
After what seemed like hours, our little Martha Stewart finally had the arrangement he desired. Grinning from ear to ear, he snatches up my hand tugs my arm like a leash to a dog, "Come on, Aya-kun! Take a walk with me."
By the way he behaves, you would never be able to tell Omi is a senior in high school. His antics sometimes were much more appropriate for a boy of about five or six. Like now…. I can't imagine what this must look like to the casual critics littered around the beach. Our hike lasted for nearly and hour, Omi jabbering away a mile a minute the entire time about anything that popped into his head. I maybe said…oh…about three words. On the way back we meet up with Yoji, who proceeds to leer at me. I really, really dislike that look. It makes my skin crawl just considering what's going on in that perverted brain of his, and I can just about guarantee it involves me, a bed, handcuffs, and a can of whipped cream.
The next half hour is spent struggling against Yoji and Omi, who were trying to shove me into the water. I already told them, I don't do large bodies of water. If Ken was helping I would be done for, but, luckily, he had been abducted by a group of volleyball players nearby. Much hissing and growling ensues on my part, and they finally give up the hopeless struggle. I allow myself a good smirk before stretching out over most of the beach blanket on my stomach. First come, first served—since they're elsewhere, I get to claim the whole thing. I deserve a little gratification for tolerating this trip well enough. Actually, now that I'm down here…it's quite cozy and comfortable…. A good place to have a catnap and…come to think of it, I am a little sleepy…. Mm…they can't bother me if I'm asleep…. Yes….