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((B139 - Orn "Dutchy" Ayers Start))

Dutchy had quite possibly, the worst headache he'd ever had in his entire life. He clamped his eyes shut, and mumbled to himself. Noises.. noises were distant. He was at home, another bright day in St. Paul... why was it so bright?

Mom.... No, 5 more minutes... Come'on, the bus will wait for me... jus' give me five more minutes...

Dutchy yawned and rolled over, reaching up trying to pull his blanket back over his head.

I just want 5 more minutes... turn off the hairdryer Mom... Mom, take it away, it's bugging me... it sounds just... 5 more minutes, look, I can run, no biggie... I'm just... so tired for some reason... So itchy, why's my face so itc..

That's... that's not a... dry...

Dutchy opened his eyes.

"Oh no... Oh no, no no..." Dutchy breathed as he struggled to sit up. Sand stuck to the side of his face, and his long blonde hair was tangled. The breeze was cool, and it made Dutchy shiver. He blinked rapidly, trying to think.

What... the camping trip... There are no beaches in the forest... That's just silly, why'd I fall asleep on the beach? Am I dreaming? Is this like, the X-Men's danger room, and it's really just a projection of... am I being punk'd? Wasn't that show cancelled? Maybe Hayley got some of her friends and dumped me here an' are taping my reac..

Dutchy paused midthought and a high pitched squeel escaped his mouth.

"My hat! Where's my hat!?" He yelled out as he reached about him. "What's going on!?! Ég veit ekki! Ég veit ekki!"

Dutchy spun around in the sand and breathed a sigh of relief. His hat lay with a strange bag a few feet away from him.

Where's MY bag? My bag is blue and has Ajax on the fro... what the heck?!

Dutchy's mouth opened, and he let out a gasp of shock.

Is that a Harpoon!? Holy crap it's a harpoon! I've got a Harpoon!

Dutchy grinned and jumped forward, scooping up his hat and the harpoon, ignoring the strange bag titled B139 for now. He let out a triumphent laugh and put his prized orange KNVB hat on his head and waving the harpoon around.

"Yarr! The white whale! White whale! Thar she blows n' junk! Cap'n Ishmal! Guy with the peg leg, go shoot yer' flintlock!" He shouted at the roaring surf.

Is this a dream? What a trippy dream! Why am I on a beach?

Dutchy looked about, the beach wasn't particularly long but down near the end... yes! There looked to be someone there. Sticking the Harpoon in the sand, Dutchy turned around and retrieved the strange bag.

"B139? That's o..." Dutchy paused for a second, hunched over looking down at the bag. Something was niggling at the edge of his mind, just out of grasp... a memory, not too long ago.. A class, something hot and wet on his face, tears... a collar? Dutchy reached up towards his neck and sure enough, a thing metal object was around it, like a choker.

That's... kinda creepy... Why does it seem so creepy? Did I forget something?

Dutchy suddenly felt very, very afraid. He wanted, no, needed someone to talk to. Looking down the beach, he saw the figure appeared to be getting up. He heaved the bag over his shoulder, grabbed his Harpoon and took off down the beach.

"Hello!" He yelled out as he grew closer to the figure, female he could tell now, and... familiar. "Ég er týnd! I'm lost! Do you know what's going on? Hey!"
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Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
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"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey

NOTE TO SELF: Burns on the left side. LEFT SIDE.
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False Awakening · The Beach: East