If I didn't know better I'd say that Pele was on the beach this morning. I wonder if it is still morning. I can't see my watch in this position. It's probably full of sand and doesn't work anymore. Why did she do this to me? Why did I go along with it? Why did somebody invent soccer, I've always hated soccer. I guess the gun is what got me to go along with it. She had this all planned out: the gun, the shovel, the paint. Maybe I didn't love her. It happens a million times a day. She's so vengeful. I hate her creativity. Only she could think of killing someone this way - "Oof!" How disgraceful, this is worse than being tied down in a city park getting covered in bread crumbs and pecked to death by pigeons.
All we did was take a walk on the beach early this morning - it was her idea, but I didn't think anything of it. We walk on the beach a lot. As we walked this morning we found a shovel on the beach (little did I know at the time that she placed it there beforehand.) I started to figure things out when I saw the gun. At gunpoint I was buried neck-deep in sand. Immobile at this point she gagged me -"Oof!" and then the craziest thing she painted my head like a soccer ball... "Oof!"