The warm breeze, the crashing waves, the boisterous keening of seagulls above. It is a lovely day at the beach.>br>You are sitting on an oversized towel that was supposed to keep the sand off, but they never really do. Above you is the Coors Lite umbrella that your friend won in that radio contest a few years back, something about singing an old theme song on air. It has been a long morning of volleyball, swimming, building sandcastles, and of course enjoying a few cold ones. You feel a bit peckish.
There's a soft, but persistent, buzzing sound. You look around until you see it, out over the ocean. A prop plane dragging a banner is crawling past the ocean, this is the third one you've seen today. You smile and wave to one of your friends, returning from a battle with the waves. The banner catches your eye. A crown made of pineapple fronds sits jauntily cocked on top of a sandwich. The bun is probably some kind of hawaiian roll, but it's been smashed and soaked and let to dry again. Aggressively orange cheese clings to a thick slab of battery acid yellow pineapple, all on top of a small pile of limpid ham.
Your stomach gurgles in delight and terror.
Your friend is saying something to you, no...singing something to you. It's that old theme song, or maybe some kind of hymnal.
You feel someone press something into your hands. You do not want to look. You do anyways. ~NEW HAWAIIAN YUMBO~ ~ALOHA KING~ The pineapple is warm, and bursts in a visceral spray when you bite into it. The cheese is viscous, tendon like. The ham...sweet yumbo the ham...
You are in a group of people now, all staring at the banner. You are doing a hawaiian dance. You are wearing a grass skirt. You are enjoying, well..., you are eating a ~NEW HAWAIIAN YUMBO~ ~ALOHA KING~