Past the boardwalk where the hardiest bimbos and muscleheads emerged from their winter hibernation pre-tanned and preening, past the stands hawking hot dogs and snow cones, past the leathery old men and red-faced squalling children was a stretch of beach that was gloriously unpeopled. This is where Julie liked to run.
Sadly, the further she got from the crowds, the less groomed the beach grew. Nobody bothered picking up the flotsam that collected on the sand here, and she needed to remain constantly vigilant for obstacles. A loop of nylon fishing net could snag an ankle, sending her face-first into a pile of something unsavory. Though more often than not, it was the junk buried just beneath the surface that tripped her. Julie called these unavoidable objects land mines.
Today she struck one hard with her right toe, and flew until her outstretched hands hit the damp sand like landing gear. After a spill like this, the most important thing to do was to survey the area to confirm that nobody witnessed her embarrassing fall. Then she was free to inspect the crater she made for any biohazards like the spent hypodermic needle off to her left. Satisfied that she only had to contend with a stubbed toe and about a pound of grit that the neckline of her sports bra scooped up, Julie got up and limped to where the land mine lay.
This time her enemy was an old liquor bottle. Her foot had already done most of the excavation work. All she had to do now was to yank it free and hurl it into the weeds where she'd never encounter it again. But when she picked it up, she noticed that it was empty and yet sealed.
Ooh! That meant that there could be a message inside! The glass was too cloudy to see through, but maybe if she held it to the light- wait, no, it wasn't sunny enough. Hmm, well- she didn't have a corkscrew, so opening it was out of the question until she got back to her apartment. Maybe the glass was simply grimy. Julie rubbed the bottle vigorously with the heel of her hand. Through the polished window, she could see a swirling mass trapped inside.
"Oh jeez, what the hell is tha-"
Suddenly it pushed the cork out with a pop and rose like a great gout of blue champagne. Julie dropped the bottle like a hot potato and stared slack-jawed at the quickly coalescing form of the djinn.
Djoser is right; it seems that whenever you draw a girl that's slightly less stacked than usual, she still has a pretty impressive behind on her. There's more than one kind of junk on that beach :3 I can also see them half-tones again, creeping in from the sea. Part 2 is anticipated!
Man. I don't go to the beach often, but if that is what they are usually like on the outskirts? Damn, no wonder I don't go. That is /scarily/ slobby. Throwing a /used needle/, and a container for car oil? Jeeze.
Totally hoping this goes the WG/butt expansion route, I'm afraid I'm a devout Sir-Mix-A-Lot follower. Girls with big butts drive me crazy. She's really cute too.
To those concerned about the trash on beaches, you're right; used needles are not that common. The main factors with the kind of trash that's left on the beach are the local government's involvement and the beach location. In Evanston, IL, for example, a regular part of a lifeguard's job is to pick up trash.
Sadly, the further she got from the crowds, the less groomed the beach grew. Nobody bothered picking up the flotsam that collected on the sand here, and she needed to remain constantly vigilant for obstacles. A loop of nylon fishing net could snag an ankle, sending her face-first into a pile of something unsavory. Though more often than not, it was the junk buried just beneath the surface that tripped her. Julie called these unavoidable objects land mines.
Today she struck one hard with her right toe, and flew until her outstretched hands hit the damp sand like landing gear. After a spill like this, the most important thing to do was to survey the area to confirm that nobody witnessed her embarrassing fall. Then she was free to inspect the crater she made for any biohazards like the spent hypodermic needle off to her left. Satisfied that she only had to contend with a stubbed toe and about a pound of grit that the neckline of her sports bra scooped up, Julie got up and limped to where the land mine lay.
This time her enemy was an old liquor bottle. Her foot had already done most of the excavation work. All she had to do now was to yank it free and hurl it into the weeds where she'd never encounter it again. But when she picked it up, she noticed that it was empty and yet sealed.
Ooh! That meant that there could be a message inside! The glass was too cloudy to see through, but maybe if she held it to the light- wait, no, it wasn't sunny enough. Hmm, well- she didn't have a corkscrew, so opening it was out of the question until she got back to her apartment. Maybe the glass was simply grimy. Julie rubbed the bottle vigorously with the heel of her hand. Through the polished window, she could see a swirling mass trapped inside.
"Oh jeez, what the hell is tha-"
Suddenly it pushed the cork out with a pop and rose like a great gout of blue champagne. Julie dropped the bottle like a hot potato and stared slack-jawed at the quickly coalescing form of the djinn.