The shadows seemed to be longing for darkness. I was talking ridiculous nonsense as usual. Winds snarled and the brown bag my PBR can was partially in leapt off the picnic table and sunk into the sand at the feet of the tiki bar.
It was a fluid ounce triathlon and guys were maxing out with sets of 22 oz. in hopes inebriation would replace the trophies they never won. Luckily, there were no injuries. Not surprisingly nobody had won, either.
by Zak Edelman