I woke, sopping wet on the warm, dry sand. I could remember three things exactly, and three things only: the day of my father’s unexpected trip to “work,” his slippery tail, and my recent trip on what you might call a “bring your child to work day.”
My day had started like any other: my mom calling to me, saying something like “Get up, Beau, or I’ll get the water bucket”, being drenched with said ice cold water, and saying goodbye to my dad after his announcement of an emergency nine-day business trip to Honolulu.
He worked as a clean-up guy. Well, more like the clean-up guy. Everyone everywhere who was important knew him. My dad helped clean beaches, forests, and anything else nature, and travelled to everywhere not local. Most of his jobs were stationed in coastal areas with beaches and waters, considering we lived along the water of Kailua on Oahu. Dad was great at his job. Well, at least that’s what he always said.
We said our goodbyes, and I followed him out the door, heading to the beach to meet some buddies; Hank, a “hunk” at heart but a cinnamon roll on the outside, and Elliott, who had only two words able to describe him: mischevious and arrogant.
Ten minutes later my best friends and I had just started tossing a frisbee along the edge of the water. Hank flung the frisbee towards me, sailing a good two feet above my head. I turned to retrieve the plastic disc just as I felt a slippery snake-like branch, flipper, wing, something attach and wrap itself around my ankle. It yanked me straight to the ground, my stomach hitting hard and my eyes darting up in a silent plead for help.
Just my crazy luck, though, my eyes didn't meet anything that screamed HELP. They saw the same horrid tentacle something strapped around my best friends' legs, dragging them toward the rushing blue waters alongside me.
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