Just a Spit in the Bucket

     It was the end of a beautiful Sunday at the Casino beach club.   The four towels that we brought to the beach, now mixed with ocean water and sand weighed 30 pounds a piece.  I find it strange and adorable how two kids who barely tip the scales at 46 pounds themselves can manage that.
     The 150 pound crab beside me grunts.  "it wouldn't be so cute if it were your car seats embedded in sand."
     Joe usually likes the beach.  Except for the sand, the wind, the ocean spray, the carrying the chairs to and from the locker, the sitting in close proximity to everyone, the miscellaneous treats found while hiding his big 'ick' toe in a sand pile, the broad babes in petite swimwear, the tattoos, and as of today-the tobacco spit bottle.
      Because of his ADHD, and his 'like' of the beach, Joe takes frequent smoke breaks.  During one of his breaks, I found a Nestle water bottle that was making its way towards the ocean with the rising tide.  Being true to my Jersey roots, I picked it up and put it in the cup holder of Joe's beach chair.
     It wasn't long before I heard, "Ert!  What the hell is this and who put it here?"
     My eyes became watery as a result of holding in my screaming laughter. "Whah?"  I tried looking at his disgusted and disapproving frown as he jiggled the small bottle labeled 'Nestle Water.'
     "I just saw it lying there and the waves were coming it.  It would have washed out into the ocean."  I said wincing my eyes.
     "Next time....LET IT GO."  Joe huffed, "This was someone's spit bottle."
     With no chalk or blackboard on hand, Joe taught me that you don't have to be a M.V.P. on performance enhancing drugs to chew or spit out chewing tobacco.  "It was probably one of those animals over there."  In no act of secrecy he pointed a strong finger at a tattooed woman in a yellow crocheted bikini (Angelina Jolie, Johnny Depp, Adam Levine, and Rhianna all have tattoos, I don't think that makes them litter bugs, but I'll keep that debate to myself).
     Once again, Joe rises, but this time it isn't to decompress, it's to dispose of his newest object of disgust.  His objection will not keep me from cleaning up the mess of other pigs (though I do hit my limit on dirty diapers-yes, people leave those on the beach too), though it does leave the open question in mind-where is it's owner?
     Hoping the Fall leaves everyone with warm memories of Summer, and clean thoughts for the next one!