Sequoia Coast spit and retrieve

@taggerik i hope i spelt this name right, but i guess we'll find out when i edit it later or something

edit: NOPE. @taggirik? @taggarak? who knows, I'LL JUST LOOK IT UP ALREADY — @Taggarik

jfc i need to go to bed my eyes are on fire right now

He had seen the ocean and, well, found that it was not just some big giant lake.  At least, if it were, it was one of the most foul, salty, awful stupid things he had ever made the mistake of trying to drink out of.  And so, Rickshaw had continued gamboling right along as coyotes were wont to do, though he found that there was also a whole lot of nothing out along the coast.  It was not the sort of sight his world traveler brain would have associated with beaches.  Not like the beaches he had heard about at one point or another.  They weren't caked with throngs of people trying to pet the doggy and give out tasty heart attack inducing tidbits.

Hell, there wasn't even a trash bin in sight.

Instead he found the coast to be one of the more lonely and desolate places that he had visited, though up to that point he had mostly crossed the valley and threaded himself between the mountains without encountering another soul.  A cat here, a fox there, but no real trouble.  So the coyote had slipped into a silent sort of ease, bobbling along at a pace that could have been so easily construed into melancholy.  His ears were half-masted and splayed unevenly out from his skull, his eyes were somewhere along the same point though they were decidedly focused on the stretch of sand and water ahead of him.

"Goddamn," he murmured, wondering if he tried to roll his eyes again if they'd just roll right to the back of his head.  Perhaps they'd roll out of his skull and dangle about grotesquely on strings.  He closed them momentarily, not entirely inclined to find out one way or another.  But when he opened them, something had come rolling out from the gradual shift of the tide.  It bridled his interest, putting a cap in the ass of whatever self-imposed circle of hell he had confined himself to, and he honed in on it.

"The fuck's this?" he asked, to no one in particular.  "The fuck is that?"  It's a seal, Rickshaw.  It's a stupid seal.  Not that he was supposed to know what it was, as he had never seen one.  It gave him reason to pick up his pace a bit, closing off that distance so pinpoint that he completely missed the point where it was definitely dead.  Oh so dead.  But not so dead that in some screwed up way that salty water and gritty awful shore hadn't turned it halfway into frozen seal jerky.

Hey, at least nobody had to club it, right?

the hives — hate to say i told you so