It was a particularly depressing winter semester, so my classmate Geoff and I blackmailed a few naughty professors and swung down to Oahu for a week. It was a character defining trip, and I would return with a new sense of my manliness. In other words, I've accepted that on occasion I can be a little pussy bitch.
After taking a break from being laughed at by local surfers, we decided to explore the local neighborhoods. We walked endlessly before stumbling upon a secret beach, where gorgeous girls laid waiting like a pack of scrumptious gazelles. Unfortunately, my knee-high socks, black Velcro shoes, and peeling red skin scared the pack away. I looked like a shaved penguin wondering where the fucking snow went.
As they avoided our presence, we realized we were completely lost. Then we realized we had a conversation topic for the girls. After some pitiful pleading, they refused to drive us back to their homes and feed us dinner. We decided to leave without them, and asked if it was possible to walk along the beach back to Waikiki to our hostel/mud hut. They said they'd done it before, although there were a few areas where you had to swim instead of walk. They offered us lifejackets, but as a great swimmer (having beaten every senior citizen at my local pool) and proud idiot, I refused.
It sounded easy enough, so as the sun began to go down, we set off on our adventure. Things were going great as we stumbled across a swimsuit model photo shoot. The photographer needed some more light for the model's face, so I offered my pasty white skin as a reflective surface for the sun. My stomach nearly blinded the model, who also refused to drive us back to her home and feed us dinner, let alone look at us.
We kept walking until the beach turned into a sea wall, at which point we faced a choice: walk on top of the seawall bordering some fancy houses, or be fucking real men and trot into the water full of jagged rocks below. So we took off our shoes and started limping to our destination.
Besides my gashed and bloody feet, I was pretty relaxed. We had no idea where we were or how far away Waikiki was, but I felt unstoppable. As we ventured further though, the seawall got higher, the rocks became more treacherous, the water grew deeper, and the waves cracked more aggressively. Soon enough it was pitch black and the waves were slamming us into the wall like rabid hockey players.
At this point, my toughness was wearing thin, and my feet were probably attracting more than a few hungry sharks. Geoff asked if we should put our shoes on, and I told him only pussy bitches resort to footwear while traversing knife-edged lava rock. Next thing I knew, my foot slipped into a hole and my leg sank down a good two feet. I screamed as my flesh shredded upwards and I imagined a giant moray eel swallowing my leg like an enchilada. When I finally got my foot out I whimpered and tried my best not to cry. (How quickly and how far we fall.) Then I started freaking out as my thoughts drifted to a tiger shark emerging from the oncoming waves at any second to bite my head off. Any animal whose name requires the combination of two of the most feared animals on Earth deserves some credit.
I decided it was time to put my fucking shoes on. Screw toughing it out. All I could think about was getting back to Waikiki and banging Australian sluts. As I braced the wall to put my shoes on, I heard a faint clicking noise amidst the crashing waves. I looked up and shrieked; the entire sea wall was swarming with the most disgusting and monstrous crabs I had ever seen. They were black and slimy, and their pincers were ready to castrate me. It felt more like the fate of a pedophile, but there I was, defending the use of my deep sea diver against hundreds of decapod crustaceans. I yelled at Geoff to run for his life, but suddenly the waves began shooting crabs at me. I ducked my head as their limbs flailed about like the facehuggers from Aliens, but the waves kept pounding me against the wall. Every time I hit the wall I screamed at the prospect of being dragged beneath the crevices by hundreds of snapping pincers ready to avenge an imaginary child rape victim.
Crabs sense childlike fear.
Finally Geoff found a way to the top of the seawall, and we climbed to safety. We ran along looking for an exit, but were blocked off by perimeter fences guarding waterfront mansions. It's like, what are they afraid of, THE WATER? Am I right?!
When we reached the end of the seawall, we could see Waikiki, but a stretch of treacherous open ocean told us to fuck off and find another way back. The seawall had become too narrow for our feet, and we were hanging on to a rusty old fence that swayed back and forth in the wind. As the waves smashed against the seawall, I realized the fence wouldn't hold us long. The drop below would be certain death, and I was sure the crab people were planning another attack.
Beyond the fence were two fancy homes that looked empty, so I climbed over and landed in one of the backyards. Enormous flood lights came on, and my fear of man-eating dogs kicked in as I jumped another fence into the neighbor's backyard. The drop was much farther then I expected, and I landed on something sharp and painful. I cursed like crazy as more security lights flooded the grounds. I crouched along the ground clutching my throbbing ass as Geoff came to meet me. Then I sat up and realized I had landed in a village of garden gnomes, potentially crushing their leader. Knowing how vengeful gnomes are, I chucked the broken pieces into the ocean and smashed the other gnomes for good measure. Remind me never to use Travelocity again.
We made our way toward the front of the house, keeping watch for that one ninja dog waiting to rip out our jugulars, but a tall, locked side entrance gate stood in our way. It was the last thing blocking me from my now obsessive desire to bang the entire slut population of Australia. I climbed over like Spider-Man web-slinging home to hump Mary Jane. Geoff tried the same thing, but his sandals had no grip and his bag weighed him down. He tossed the bag and sandals over, and started to climb again. While at the top, he swung his leg over and snagged his shorts. Suddenly, a worried look came over his face. Turns out his scrotum was caught on one of the metal points of the fence. I told him everything would be fine, to just take it slow. But then I spotted a car driving toward us and everything changed. "Dude, hurry the fuck up!!" I yelled. After making the most difficult decision of his life, Geoff leaped over. I saw the rip in his shorts and quickly averted my eyes as his hairy balls flew out. I can only hope the pouch still has all the marbles.
I started running like a mad man. I looked back and saw Geoff limping after me. He was running like a gimp without his sandals, so I threw them at him. He scrambled to put the sandals on his bloody feet and then we both ran into a nearby park. We watched as the car drove past the house.
We kept running, thinking every cop in Hawaii had been sent to catch us for killing those garden gnomes. We even switched shirts hoping it would confuse the fuck out of them. But it was no use—Hawaiian shirts all look the same.
After finally spotting the familiar swagger of Waikiki prostitutes, we snapped out of it. We congratulated each other for not ending the night as bloated corpses floating out to sea, and focused our attention on the prospect of Australian sluts, where hopefully only the tiniest of crabs lurked.