dingoes

(from the enormous archives)

Modest as a mouse, she was, and the fact that a wild dingo had stolen her skirt now filled her with an unbearable sense of shame. What if Bobby were to see her like this? She had been warned about napping on the dunes, and now she understood the good common sense behind those words. What a foolish, foolish girl. “Ahrooooo.” Sarah could hear those dirty dingoes retreating ever further, and her heart was black with the realization that there was sand inside her knickers. A bad day? A terrible day it was, even discounting the root canal she had scheduled for the afternoon. At least she had not forgotten her flip-flops; else her feet would have quickly blistered up just like a Jimmy Dean link sausage left too long on some forgotten stovetop. "I think I'll have some cactus juice to ease my burning throat," she thought, in what quickly proved to be yet another costly mistake. "Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch," she cried, temporarily forgetting that the black cotton desert skirt from Lord and Taylor's had set her back half a weeks pay.