Part XXIV: The Search For Summer

What's this? Is this the beginning of the end? If you click on the picture above, you can see the details. It basically says I can't log on because I have a "free" account and they need to make room for "paying" customers. What the crap is that?

This is the first time it's happened. I certainly hope this doesn't hint at a reoccurring deal with the cretins over at the 2nd Life offices. Here I thought keeping the poor down was mainly a real life thing, but no. The "man" keeps me down(offline) here too. Well, screw them. I'm still not giving those tools any of my money!

I try a half hour later and I'm allowed on. Whew! I thought I might never get to see Torchy again. I guess some paying turd finally logged off and the server graciously accepted my poor man's log-on request.

I'm climbing right now to check out an art exhibit in the sky. My shirt is still whacked out from the tornado, but that's OK. I plan to find a beach, after checking out this museum in the clouds, to enjoy some summer weather. All I'll need is my Speedo.

Neat, but did they have to put it all the way up here? I remember that sales tactic now. If you want to sell stuff to people, make sure they have to climb a two-mile rope to get to it. Brilliant.

I take a seat at a piano for sale so Torchy can practice his chopsticks. He's terrible so I get up. Like I said, the shop is neat but we quickly get bored. Now it's time to do something Huygens likes to do...

...which is jumping off incredibly high places.

Wweeeeeeeeee!

During the long fall, I have time to browse the guide for a nice beach to hit the sand. I find a Japanese resort of sorts and push teleport before I hit the ground.

Bam. And we're here. Looks crowded. Porcupine people are getting down, noobs are dancing for dollars and ladies are working on their tans(?). All in all, a happening star shaped island this is.

Hey! My shirt is all fixed! I guess all it needed was a good teleport to re-rasterize itself. Actually, I'd better change into more appropriate beach attire.

There. Nice and tight. How will the ladies(and statistically a few guys) resist? Speaking of, let's see if being married for 8 years has eroded my coming-on-to abilities. Time to find some hotties.

I wonder over to the surfboard shop and notice a French couple chatting it up. The guy teleports away leaving the lady alone to succumb to my mack-daddy talents.

I walk up and say, "Hey lovely lady, come here often?" She spits a tirade of French in my general direction. Why couldn't I have been born bilingual, damn it. I wasn't about to let a simple thing like communication get in the way of our "hooking up" so I continued, "I was just wondering if you wanted roll around in the sand with a hot piece of man-flesh like myself?"

She didn't say anything for a minute and then seemed to know enough English to ask me, "American?" I knew enough French to respond, "Ah, oui!" Then she called up another English word and said, "Pig!" and turned away. Hoping she knew more than those two words of my language, I left her with, "Get bent!"

Moving down the sand I find a couple more womanly creatures sitting at a bar. I strutted up and announced myself with, "Heyyyy ladies. Ready to get funky?" They looked at me a second and began conversing to each other in Japanese.

The only words I could make out from all the symbols were "Ha Ha Ha Ha". Torchy said he didn't think any scoring was going to happen here and they were probably having a laugh at my expense. His realization got me all fired up mad so I left them with, "Get Bent." Don't they know hotness when they see it?

You like me, don't you crab friend?

Man, this crab is pissed off. Maybe it would like me more if I didn't sit on it.

Maybe a soak in the hot tub will get my courting juices flowing again. Wait a minute. Who gets in a hot tub on a sizzling beach in the blazing sun. What a stupid idea. It must be here for those people who like "extreme" beaching.

OK. One more attempt at being the daddy-mack and I'm giving up. If these chicks can't take my sexual charisma, then a pox on them. I head on over to the "dancing for dollars" section of the party. A comely lass is in line for the next available slot. Time to work some magic.

I swaggered on up to her and asked, "Howdy. Come here often?" I didn't get any reply, but I also didn't get laughed at yet, so I continued, "I couldn't help noticing you were female and all and didn't know if you might want to get injected with 10 ccs of Huygens?"

No reply was forthcoming. She just stared at me. I could only guess what language this lady spoke but it sure wasn't mine apparently. Fine then. Who needed chicks anyway. I signed off on her with my now well practiced, "Get bent!"

One of the dancing-for-dollars dorks thought I was talking to them and said, "Fuck you." Not one to back away from a mistaken identity altercation, I replied to them, "No, Fuck you." They came back with, "No, FUCK U!" To which I threw, "No, Fuck you, you fucking fuck!"

At that point, another of the dancing dorks grew tired of our debate and chimed in with, "Fuck you both." I got a kick out of this and said, "Har! Good one, dancing dork noob." He responded, "Thanks. Now fuck off."

And since I was running out of ways to use "fuck" in a sentence, I thought it best to take dancing dork's advice. I shuffled down the shore to get some solitude. All this macking and cursing was wearing me out.

I find a quite neck of the party and settled down to work on my tan(?). Isn't summer fun, Torchy?

He says if he had eyes, he'd be rolling them right now.

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