The "Stranded on Italy" incident

You know? As I stare into the beautiful orange sun reflected on the Mediterranean Sea, I realize that most people rarely take the time to appreciate the little things in life.

Like the breeze, for example. It’s so refreshing to feel it dry off the sweat of a day’s worth of jogging. Even the sand under my feet is pleasantly warm and soft. Yep, it’s all about the little pleasures. I wish my boss would see it that way, but she has been grumpy since we started this trip.

I keep staring at the sunset for a few more moments. I have been looking at it for… it feels like hours, but it is hard to tell. I don’t have a watch... or anything else for that matter. I’m butt naked. My boss, Private Detective Laura, is also butt naked. She is sitting further down the sand, under the shadow of the pier, and watching me *work*.

My name is Annie Nigma, I’m a junior investigator in Laura’s P.I office. We were tracking down an international thief when we hit a little …snag. Thanks to the thief, we are stranded on the Italian coast without even a sandal to our name.

To make matters worse, neither of us speaks a lick of Italian, so our quest to return home or even get some clothes have been going pretty bad. Sure, we often try to improvise some sort of makeshift clothing, but more often than not it doesn’t last more than fifteen minutes. Paper bags tear super easily with this humidity, and newspapers go flying like kites with the breeze.

I tried to wear a trashcan kind of like a hermit crab, but it was too heavy to carry around on my back. Speaking of crabs, I also tried to wear seashells on my breasts, but it turns out that hermit crabs don’t like to share their home with a nipple… They have a sharp way of making their complaints heard. Thankfully, I wasn’t injured, and at least Laura got a good chuckle out of it.

We also attempted to nab some tablecloths from the restaurants at the beachfront. Sadly, the local authorities are nothing if not alert. They chased us around the beach for like an hour before we lost them. I can still hear the laughter of the local teens sitting on the stairs and watching the chase when I recall the event.

It’s not like we haven’t tried to make some money, but that hasn’t gone well either. Begging is useless. The tourists avoid us like we are a bunch of drunk party girls, and the locals don’t appreciate us ruining their “family-friendly resort.”

Yep, it hasn’t been easy living like some sort of involuntary nudist. It makes you feel more like an alien than a fellow girl to these people. Everyone stares at you as if you are a nutcase, a pervert, or a clown.

But at least this town is better than the last one. I still get shivers recalling how they chased us out like a medieval mob running away bandits. Well, even more reason to find clothes and money ASAP!

Time to put my talents to good use and make some sweet, sweet dough. I trace my finger on the sands to give the final changes to my improvised sign. Don’t need any cardboard or pencils when the beach itself will do.

I turn around to Laura and give her a thumbs up, she half-heartedly returns the gesture. My boss is lying there on the beach. Her voluptuous body is half-buried in the sand, only her round, perky breasts poking out.

Hmpf, she should be here with me in the trenches! She has an hourglass figure that will attract customers like flies to honey, unlike plain and pale little old me… Never mind. I’ll show her when I come back with a pile of money and a crowd of satisfied customers.