Status: Hiatus
Dali
Beach Bodies
Like any spy will tell you, a beach isn’t a fun place to be. It’s almost impossible to hide a gun in swimming trunks, and there’s no cover whatsoever. The only thing that is covering you is the Sun, which is unhealthy in large amounts. I grimaced as sand got between my toes.
“Would you relax?” Beth asked me as she walked with Felicia in her arms. I scanned the beach, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Even on beach, you could find anyone who doesn’t belong. That overweight guy with the cream on his nose? Nope, he’s just soaking up the Sun, no need to worry about him. That group of girls giggling at every guy passing by? Not at all, they’re just trying to have a good time while on spring break. What about those two men having a seat on the bench, looking around the beach as if they’re lost? Exactly. One of the few reasons a beach is great place for spies is because everyone else not there for the Sun and the surf sticks out like a sore thumb. Of course, all of this applies to spies, and I’m not saying I’m a spy. I eyed the agents on the bench.
“I probably could relax if this place wasn’t so…sweaty,” I lied. I had been in worse. The weather on a beach is nothing compared to a summer in the Rainforest. The sweating alone makes it impossible to do everyday tasks, get comfortable, or properly pull a trigger and hit a moving Jeep. The beach certainly wasn’t too hot for me. Beth shook her head.
“You’re such a wimp,” she said, “one would think that you’ve never been in the Sun,” she said. I shrugged. I didn’t have a comeback to that. There was no use in arguing over something that wasn’t true. Beth finally stopped, and I began setting up our chairs. Felicia sped off as soon as Beth put her down, and went running into the water. We both stared at her.
“Are we sure she’s a cat?” I asked. Beth shook her head.
“Not anymore,” she said, still watching Felicia. Felicia dog paddled along the shore. I sighed, and took a seat in one of the chairs. Beth sat next to me. She opened a can of diet Pepsi and leaned back in her chair. She must have noticed me looking at the men in suits, because she broke my train of thought. “Why are you staring at those guys?” she asked. I looked back at her.
“I wasn’t staring, and not at them,” I lied, “I was trying to remember if I locked the car doors.” She gave me a look like she didn’t believe me. I shrugged. “What?” I asked. She shook her head and said nothing. I took my mind off of the agents. I cracked open a book I brought with me, called Who Is Mark Twain?, by Mark Twain, according to the cover. I sighed.
“Would you relax?” Beth asked me as she walked with Felicia in her arms. I scanned the beach, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Even on beach, you could find anyone who doesn’t belong. That overweight guy with the cream on his nose? Nope, he’s just soaking up the Sun, no need to worry about him. That group of girls giggling at every guy passing by? Not at all, they’re just trying to have a good time while on spring break. What about those two men having a seat on the bench, looking around the beach as if they’re lost? Exactly. One of the few reasons a beach is great place for spies is because everyone else not there for the Sun and the surf sticks out like a sore thumb. Of course, all of this applies to spies, and I’m not saying I’m a spy. I eyed the agents on the bench.
“I probably could relax if this place wasn’t so…sweaty,” I lied. I had been in worse. The weather on a beach is nothing compared to a summer in the Rainforest. The sweating alone makes it impossible to do everyday tasks, get comfortable, or properly pull a trigger and hit a moving Jeep. The beach certainly wasn’t too hot for me. Beth shook her head.
“You’re such a wimp,” she said, “one would think that you’ve never been in the Sun,” she said. I shrugged. I didn’t have a comeback to that. There was no use in arguing over something that wasn’t true. Beth finally stopped, and I began setting up our chairs. Felicia sped off as soon as Beth put her down, and went running into the water. We both stared at her.
“Are we sure she’s a cat?” I asked. Beth shook her head.
“Not anymore,” she said, still watching Felicia. Felicia dog paddled along the shore. I sighed, and took a seat in one of the chairs. Beth sat next to me. She opened a can of diet Pepsi and leaned back in her chair. She must have noticed me looking at the men in suits, because she broke my train of thought. “Why are you staring at those guys?” she asked. I looked back at her.
“I wasn’t staring, and not at them,” I lied, “I was trying to remember if I locked the car doors.” She gave me a look like she didn’t believe me. I shrugged. “What?” I asked. She shook her head and said nothing. I took my mind off of the agents. I cracked open a book I brought with me, called Who Is Mark Twain?, by Mark Twain, according to the cover. I sighed.