The games they play-open

[BRIGHTWELL]

Palm Beach

He hates Palm Beach, "the beach here sucks" he told friends. You have to drive to Singer Island for a decent piece of beach. And then there are those local provincials with there 300 pound bodies sweating on the sand with black speedos that are stretched across their massive fat asses. They waddle down to the water, you can hear their thighs slapping together as they flounder out to the water, and that is the men.
The women are bloated beached whales struggling to keep their massive meaty mammary from escaping the stretched yards of swim suit. They move like flesh jello surging to and fro from their tiny beach blankets to the water warily searching out whaling boats that might harpoon them any moment.
Oh the unwashed masses that he has to share the beach with. He lays out his beach towel tries his best not to be trampled by one of the bloated beached whales. He applied lotion to his slim body and covered his head with a straw hat he had bought in the straw market on St Thomas just last month and lays out in the sun.
After the allotted time(15 mins) he turned over and let his back enjoy the hot Florida sun.' I wish I has a sweety to put lotion on my back', he whishes. He stayed that way for another 15 minutes. He rolled over and sat on his blanket and looked out to the sea. Off to his right he could see one of the local cruise ships making for the open water of the Florida straits. Not me he thought I would sail from San Jaun. I like the ships better. Oh well back to the hole in the wall. He had a place, he is staying on Brazilian Court. I guess I could drive to West Palm and then run out to Wellington to see Chip and the guys.

 

[BRIGHTWELL]

He trugged up the beach and makes his trek to the paved walkway. Up ahead he could see the public showers. Several out of towners rushed by for a spot at one of the water nozzles sticking out of the wall. He paused before entering the the mass of humanity waiting to shower off before leaving the beach.

The mini horde finds a way to cleanse themselves and yet still remain broken and vanquished. In small knots they gather their meager belongings and find a way to get off the beach. 'Just up the stairs, lemmings.' Is his thought.
Now that the water works are free he looks around for any straggler and places himself under the man made rain fall.
He braces himself for the chill and is still not ready when it hits. The water make little rivulet down his body. He turns and feels the water strike his back and down his trunks and his calves. He turns and looks at crowd on the beach and shakes his head.

 

[BRIGHTWELL]

He finishes his quick shower. It looks like he has found a gap in the flow in the body traffic migrating to the beach. He pivots toward the stone steps. finds the way clear and dashes up the stairs and in no time he is in the parking lot. His Beemer is in the shop on Palm Beach Lakes and I have to make do with the Spider. He finds the green spider and a clean dry beach towel in the back seat. He dries off and dresses. His white polo shirt and tan dockers. His socks and boots are in the trunk he will but them on later.

He has just arrived, the drive west on Forst Hill was getting worst by the day.
"Man did you guys see the three car smash up at South Shore and Forest Hill."
He sits down and smiles at the waiteress."I just got off the beach, an ice tea with a lemon twist would hit the spot thanks. "
He turns to Chip "Have you heard from our friends out west yet?"Chip looks around as the waitress walks away.
"Tom don't bring that up here, this place has too many ears!"Chip said nervously.
"Look Chip I'm going to need a researcher for this thing, some one thats good in both written and oral translations!"
Chip smiles at him. You'll need more then that my friend!" Chip leans back in his chair and studies the crowd in The Paddock Room