My son, there are three things you must know when you go skinny dipping in the ocean after midnight. First and foremost, you must be naked. Stop snickering. It’s obvious but true. You must be naked; otherwise you’re just swimming. Present yourself to Mother Pacific as a corpse on a slab being prepared for the final rite, and she will welcome you.
Fog rolls in along the coast thick and creepy, John Carpenter style. Taka’s beside me in his wetsuit, anxiously rocking on the balls of his feet. I promised him big game tonight.
“How will they know we’re here?” he asks.
“I left a note.” And by that I mean I left a bloody conch shell on Uncle Ingram’s pillow.
Taka rubs his arms and watches his breath puff in the cold night air. “Do you love me, Thoth?” He asks out of nowhere.
“Hey with the who now?”
Listen to the soundtrack: