Bread toasted equals toast

I immediately rushed, quickly staggering over the sandy, hard, rocks. The bright, shiny, white shells and dark, grainy rocks were sharp or just simply, they hurt. I should of brought flip flops I thought as I stumbled along. But way ahead, I could see the fresh, salty, cold waters of the Atlantic Ocean, with a bright reflection of the hot, bright, orange sun. The hot air smelled salty and fresh, but there was a fishy smell, too. There was a seagull who circled about like he was the shining star of the beach. I ran quickly without a minute to spare after my Californian cousin Jake and my brother, Drew, over the soft, fresh, white sand. I ran, in an attempt to jump into the wavy, rippled, blue water, passing dark, sandy, driftwood and dry sandy seaweed. I was like a breeze, running on the rocky, shell covered beach. But when I saw all the dazzling, bright, orange and white shells… I had never seen orange and white shells. Or shells, even. Whoa, I thought immediately. These are really cool. There was a shiny, straight orange stripe on this rough shiny one, then… “Splash!” A small, cold wave washed over them with tiny runaway ripples, and the shell blended in with the others. I quickly lost concentration, and went after my cousin and brother, who had also, taken a brisk moment to look around at all the shells. One by one, we immediately ran off the soft sand into the cold, sparkling waters of Florida, despite the freezing coldness of the water. I immediately jumped in with a cold little splash, spreading tiny sparkling ripples through the water. It felt very cold. “This feels very cold!” I exclaimed. Suddenly, even before I had my first 60 seconds in the Atlantic, I felt something hard and slippery on my sticky right foot, and I slipped. I fell with a cold, startling, splash, and quickly dunked my whole entire sticky body, and sat on the rocky, ocean floor, four feet from the sandy, toasty, shore of the beach.“Huh? Owe! What the? Hey, whoa, huh? Oh, look!” I exclaimed. I looked down. There was a dark, brown wood corner, of a small or giant block or wood or something. Litter, I thought. Nothing exciting. I was going to just go somewhere else, but then I stopped. Maybe it’s something cool, I thought to myself as I bent down again. Litter isn’t blocks of wood. It must be part of something, like a box, or plank. I slightly gave a tug on it, slightly hard like a hard, slappy yank in an attempt to pull it out of the rocky bottom. It came out very easily. “What the?” I slipped and fell back a bit in the salty bottom. I stared at the soaked wood thing, sitting in my muddy hand. “Hey, it’s a… toy truck?” It looked very old, and it was soaked like it had sunken to the bottom and was stuck there since the time of the pirates. It wasn’t like a shiny, new hot wheels toy car. It was like a dull cargo truck, and the old, wooden back of the truck, the storage part, and was a dark, brown wooden cube. It had dark, black, plastic wheels jammed with lots of wet sand, and the driver’s part was also dark, black, wet plastic. It was in such weird condition I didn’t even recognize it to be an old toy truck at first. It wasn’t a 1200s pirate shipwreck with millions of dollars of rusty pirate treasure, but… “Hey look what I found!” I immediately got up and raced to Jake, who was already examining the bottom of the mucky Atlantic Ocean, and looked at me as I raced over to him. “Look what I found! It’s a toy truck!” “Cool!” he answered politely, taking a quick, immediate moment to flash an affectionate look. And we put it on a bright, pink towel, and immediately forgot about it as we splashed into the scratchy bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, with the bright yellow sun above; brightly reflecting on the beautiful blue waves, I will never, ever, ever, forget this amazing day.