Oystercatcher Tide Pools absolute misery

Suddenly all the ladies wanted to fish. And they wanted Jizaar to tag along. “Oh, uhh,” he began slowly. He glanced at the waves, which, despite low tide, looked choppy and also freezing. He knew the water would be cold—too cold for him, most likely. More and more, he was missing his home in the south. As much as he was enjoying the company of these women, the thought of fishing with them was making him increasingly uncomfortable. “Jizaar will have to pass, unfortunately,” he finally said. “The water is far too cold for him.” The longer he stayed here in this northern land, the more he wished to return home. He longed for the warmer waters and jungles and streets of Mexico, where he had been born.

He bowed his head with a smile. “It was nice to meet all of you, ladies. Jizaar is afraid he has something important to do.” Like go home. With that, he unceremoniously turned and began heading back in the direction he had come from. South. Back to Mexico. Home.

[Exit Jizaar.]