Curtis leapt not gracefully off the concrete landing, and landed painfully, face first, amongst the fruit vendors on the board-walk below. 'Fuck!' he cursed. Undaunted, he rose with determination and nursed the bruise that now throbbed rhythmically on his forehead, purple and awkward. He looked up at the landing. On it, a hundred or so metres away, two blackly-laden figures were sprinting toward him. The board-walk he was on stretched distantly both right and left. Curtis began to run right toward where it transcended into a beach pier, and immediately tripped over his own foot, landing in a chaotic heap and displaying the standard of his innate nature. With the yells of his pursuers now audible, he clumsily arose and heaved himself away. He sweated, and his mind harangued him. Life is unfair, he thought,and the numerous rolls of fat that enveloped his being seemed to ripple in agreement; the planks of wood suffering his weight below creaked concurrently. Sun burdened, the melting sky above blurred Curtis's already sweat dewed eyes, and Curtis could not help but wonder why all this was happening to him.