Oystercatcher Tide Pools Sits on his Picassso

Perhaps the ears of another audience might've been kinder to the caroling beachbum, but he had unfortunately drawn forth the attention of a mad, and tarnished wolf. The storm could have just as well passed, but Furiosa's testiness tended to correlate to with her degree of hunger— and as distant humming crescendoed suddenly into pouring song, her annoyance peaked and her intended path changed.

Exorbitant noise couldn't be tolerated on an empty stomach.

She followed his voice, a harpoon-weilding pirate hunting the siren calling from the swell, and when she found him a snarl rose from the cavernous pit of her stomach. The sudden and cacophonous roar sent a score of startled seagulls wheeling in the opposite direction, as the bristling she-wolf called upon curled lip to the prone stranger. "I'll only ask once," the pale witch offered, her feet set firmly in the sand and her tail lifted threateningly; "shut the fuck up."