"No... I keep checking; no sign of life. It's been long, too long"
"Really?
Give it a poke; Get a stick, maybe we could turn it over."
"Sick, what if there is nothing but maggots on the other side?"
"No point in turning it over. It's been so long, that's the only possible thing we could find"
"Oh sick, absolutely! I think I smell them. Do you smell them? Sick, it's on my clothes. Smell my shirt! Let's get out of here!"
"Wait, wait! I need to see, just a peak at what is really on the inside."
How long can one go without writing before it is assumed you are all washed up? This picture I snapped the other day raises the question.
Lying on a Rochester beach post Labor Day = poor prognosis
