Rocks. Nothing but rocks. This was ridiculous. At a beach there should be sand, sea glass, shells, lapping waves, peace. Not pile upon pile of d****ed rocks! And, plain, grey granite ones at that!
Harvey was not impressed with his holiday. The brochure had promised white sand beaches that went on for miles. Peaceful spots with tables, chairs and servers with erotic drinks on mahogany trays. Women with perfect figures in revealing swimsuits. Friendly women in skimpy swimsuits.
Harvey was the grumbly sort. His room was rather nice: a deluxe bed with cool 500 thread Egyptian cotton sheets. Glass doors that lead out to a patio. Excellent room service 24 hours a day. Respectful, helpful staff. A decent restaurant and cozy bar.
But there were no tables by the beach. And the view from his patio. Rocks then the aqua blue of the sea. But he had to stand on his patio chair to see it. When he brought it up with the staff, they seemed surprised. Rocks? What rocks? There is only our white sand beaches and aquamarine clear sea that laps gently against the shore. There are comfortable chairs with side tables, perfect for your exotic drink.
How could they not see the rocks? He had paid for a package vacation, all expenses included. He would demand a refund. He took pictures as evidence of the discrepancy between the fantasy of the promotional material and the reality of the rocks.
When Harvey returned home, he reviewed the pictures. No rocks appeared, only white sand beaches, women in bikinis, servers with trays of exotic drinks. Harvey obviously had rocks in his head. After all, he worked in a quarry.
@ shape shifter (27 week challenger) 2014 for Sunday Photo Fiction March 30, 2014