Buffalo on the Beach

    Ah, Summer. The glorious time of youthful reverence and blood-sucking insects. Yes, it's that time again, folks. The time when we waddle on down to the shore, plop down in our favorite beach chair, squirt on some sunscreen, and sit for the next five hours. Not that we want too, mind you, but because that weight we vowed to work off at New Years has managed to find its way back directly to our asses. And those beach chairs are low.

This is what you bucktooths and sister impregnaters are missing out on.

 : :  Or at least you would be doing this, but chances are you fall into the half of the population that doesn't live on or near a coast. And to you I say, "Haha, sucker!" Because I happen to live not more than a mile from the beach, and I've gotta tell you, it would rock your puny uncultured face with such brutal force that your teeth would exit out of the back of your glorious red turkey neck.

 : :  For starters, while you Midwesterners generally cool off by "wrasslin' sweathogs in the grease pit" or whatever you inbreeds call it, we can just jump in the cool, refreshing water of the nearest ocean. And unlike your sissy girly "pools," our water doesn't smell like ass. In fact, it doesn't really smell at all, unless you get up near Long Island. Did you know that just one whiff of chlorine gas can kill you instantly? I didn't think so. But who can blame you? During science class, you were probably too busy envisioning who would win the "Battle of the Century" between Truckasaurus and Stone Cold Steve Austin to pick up on that important little tidbit.

 : :  Which brings me to another point. To all your non-coast dwellers who do know the glories of the beach:

Our training sessions were a lot like this.

Stay the hell away. I don't like you. We don't like you. Judging by your inbred, hick family, evolution doesn't like you. So quit bringing your sweaty, smelly, backwoods huckleberry family to our property. You mishaps of nature don't blend in. We become drug-sniffing dogs when you're around. We can catch wind of your scent, chase you down, and sever your jugular with your own god damn Snoopy beach umbrella at distances of well over 3,000 yards. An hour is spent every school day vigorously preparing us to make your vacation a living hell. At any given moment, there are two hundred people on the beach who have been trained in forms of unarmed combat and they all share one thing: an extreme dislike of you.

 : :  So stay in your god damned cities/trailer parks. It's not our fault you decided to move to a place that's 95% composed of brick and cement. Just because temperatures sometimes reach 300 Kelvin there doesn't mean you have to take it on us. To sum up, the beach is much better than anything you've ever imagined. But don't come here, or we'll use your severed heads as hood ornaments. And for god sakes, have some dignity and ditch the Snoopy umbrellas.

~Wally Buffalo