The Third Degree

Strung-out after an all-night party, a thirtysomething speeds his gas-guzzler to a lonely bit of beach at dawn, there to seek a meaningful relationship for once (after all the countless one-night stands). At the shoreline (oblivious to distant beachcombers and dog-walkers), he turns his allure on to Nature herself; makes overtures to the vacant sand, sea and sky. He cracks jokes, sweet-talks, serenades. Kneading his toes in the sand feels so good, to him anyway.

The day advances. The heat rises. All the trappings of the man’s position in high finance (expensive suit, Rolex, iPhone...) get jettisoned, to butt naked - to get the new girl in his life yielding to his own 'natural' charms. But Nature merely issues cryptic clues, seemingly signs of her displeasure at him not really treating her right: a seagull shits on him; a shrink-wrapped cucumber floats in; a used nappy; a seaside bucket and spade. He takes the latter to mean 'she' wants to be playful. He digs a hole with the spade. And a skinny dip would surely have her succumbing, no?

A crack of lightning sends him reeling backwards, back into the ‘shallow grave’ he's dug. The returning tide mires him in it. Dawn finds him buried under washed-clean sand, only his arm projecting out - middle finger of hand out straight.