An ancient sea-god’s word, once given under the vast blue dome of heaven, could not be broken-even if it had been extracted through blatant, unapologetic card-cheating by a seven-inch decapod wearing sunglasses and holding a loaded deck.
Eagre trudged up from the foaming surf, his powerful tail lashing the shallow water into a chaotic storm of white spray.
Every single muscle in his broad upper body strained and rippled as he hauled a towering, one-ton granite boulder across the wet shore.
His luminous fins, usually flared in divine majesty, drooped limply against his back in absolute soul-crushing humiliation.
Sweat, sand, and seawater mixed freely across his brow, his gills pumping wild, furious burst of violet-tinted stream into the hot afternoon air with every agonizing step.
He slammed the massive stone down at the base of the highest sand dune with a deafening, bone-rattling THUD that shook the entire beach, sending Crabby’s hollowed-out coconut shell rattling across the grit like a loose marble, and sending panic through the local ghost crab population.
His emerald eyes burning with ancient, oceanic fury as he glared at the tiny crustacean.
Crabby didn’t even look up.
He merely squared off his plastic decks with a soft, rhythmically satisfying thrrrt-thrrrt-thrrrt sound.
“One,” Eagre snarled in High Siren, wiping his dripping forehead with a claw-tipped hand and glaring toward the palm grove with eyes that burned like dying stars.
“That is ONE granite block!
Two more to go before I am legally and spiritually free from this wretched, air-breathing nightmare!” He wiped his stinging emerald eyes, blinked behind his dark plastic aviator sunglasses, and froze dead in his tracks.
Standing atop the crest of the highest sand dune, right beside the giant, baseball cap wearing pink pearl shrine, was Saira with her hands on her hips with a proud smile.
She had spent the last two hours engaged in a frantic flurry of high-society DIY crafting.
She had stripped a dozen of fresh, vibrant green palm fronds into delicate, swaying ribbons, weaving them tightly around her waist to create a surprisingly voluminous, highly rustic grass-style hula skirt.
Around her neck hung a thick, fragrant lei made of brightly colored red and orange hibiscus flowers, with a matching blossom tucked behind her left ear, and hibiscus flower crown perched on top of her head.
Her dark aviator sunglasses glinted triumphantly in the blazing sunlight.
“Behold!” Saira announced, striking a dramatic, fluid posture with her arms outstretched toward the open ocean like an ancient queen addressing her subjects.
“The traditional Dance of the Completed Contract!
A high-society, aristocratic celebration of manual labor, love, and structural foundation delivery!” Crabby, sitting beside the open plastic case of loaded poker cards on the flat-stone table, raised his right pincer with solemn dignity.
He began rhythmically tapping two hollow coconut shells together-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack- providing a surprisingly crisp, hypnotic tropical beat that echoed across the quiet shore.
Saira immediately burst into energetic action with a radiant smile.
She began swaying her hips furiously from side to side, her handmade palm-frond skirt swishing through the air with a loud, rhythmic shhh-shhh-shhh sound.
She lifted her arms into the air, gracefully mimicking the motion of rolling waves, stepping back and forth across the sand in a wildly theatrical, completely improvised hula dance.
“Look at the rhythm, fish-boy!” Saira called out over the sound of the surf, executing a rapid, breathtaking spin that sent bright red hibiscus petals flying through the warm breeze like festive confetti.
“The island itself honours your divine labor!
The High Priestess dances for her hard-working, stone-hauling groom!” Eagre stood frozen in three feet of swirling water, his clawed hands clutching both sides of his head, his emerald eyes wide behind his dark lenses with pure, unadulterated horror.
“Stop it!” Eagre shrieked, his voice cracking violently into a high-pitched, screeching siren squeak.
“Stop shaking your green leaves at me!
What is that horrific movement?!
Are you experiencing a localized muscle spasm?!
Do you require medical intervention?!” “It’s the Hula of true love, my dear sardine!” Saira sang out with absolute delight, swaying her hips even faster as she shimmied down the sand dune toward him, her arms gliding through the air in dramatic, sweeping figure-eights.
“Expressing eternal gratitude through the sacred medium of dance!
Crabby, double the tempo!” Crabby didn’t hesitate for a fraction of second.
His pincers blurred into a frantic, high-speed rhythm-clackclackclackclackclack- his unlit palm-frond cigar bobbing wildly in his mouth like a jazz musician’s as he laid down an intense, high-energy beach beat.
“I DO NOT WANT YOUR GRATITUDE!
I DO NOT WANT YOUR DANCING!” Eagre roared, throwing his webbed hands toward the heavens as his gills flared furiously, venting hot purple steam into the sky.
He spun on his tail, dove headfirst into the incoming waves, and swam toward the deep outer reef at sound-barrier-breaking speeds, desperate to drown out the sight of swaying palm skirts, fluttering flowers, and the relentless, maddening sound of clicking coconut shells.
“Two more boulders!
” Eagre’s enraged, echoing voice resonated underwater as he rocketed toward the abyssal trenche like a torpedo.
“I am bringing two more boulders right now, and then I am submerging myself into the frozen depths for a hundred years!
” On the beach, Saira struck a final, breathtaking posture, her hand resting gracefully over her heart as she bowed deeply toward the churning white sea foam where Eagre had vanished.
“He love it, Crabby,” Saira whispered, wiping a speck of sea spray from her dark sunglasses with a proud, completely delusional smile.
“Look at him swim.
He’s practically crying with joy.” Crabby clicked his pincers once, adjusted his tiny aviator sunglasses with the tip of his pincer and went right back to shuffling his loaded deck of playing cards, completely indifferent to the ancient sea deity throwing a tantrum in the surf.
He set the stack down on the flat-stone card table, tapped his unlit cigar against the edge of the stone table and settled back to enjoy the chaotic view of the ocean.