He had been plagued by his ghost all week and rather unable to have much fun so finally he headed out to the beach behind the hotel, determined to have fun and swim a little, maybe get some exercise in. 3 steps into the ocean he cut the big toe on his left foot. Ignoring the cut he continued to swim for a while before wondering just how bad the cut was. Taking a brief break he dipped his head under the water and took a look at his toe; it looked like it was bleeding, it was hard to tell under water.
Making his way back to the shore he looked a bit ridiculous; he was a terrible swimmer, doggie paddle all the way. He sat on the beach looking at his cut; it was bleeding, but ultimately he told himself "if you're gonna cry about the boo boo on your toe, you can go to the urine filled kiddie pool, be around all the other babies," so he sucked it up and headed back out to sea... only to cut his other foot.
"Fuck it," he said, having had enough "I'm going in."
And so he learned to hate the beach.
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