John B. Routledge

”Put on your noseguard, put on the Lifeguard, pass the tanning butter. Here comes a stingray, there goes a manta-ray. In walked a jelly fish, there goes a dog-fish, chased by a cat-fish.”

Rock Lobster — The B-52’s

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John B always thought he was the best surfer on the island, that’s what he prided himself on. He loved the water, rain or shine. He was always out riding the waves.

He was pulled out his sleep by his alarm, groaning and grabbing his phone to turn it off. He sat up with a huff, why did he tell himself to get up early to surf again?

He groaned, glancing out the open window. The sun had already begun rising, the birds chirping and the humid heat beginning to form on the summer morning.

It didn’t take him long before he was walking down to the beach, surfboard tucked under his arm. He’d fully woken up now, glancing around the waters to analyze the waves.

However, it seemed he wasn’t the first one here. There was a figure already out on the water, riding the waves. John B stood for a moment, in a shocked stupor. He watched as this guy performed some tricks, unaware of John B watching him.