The Nudist

Every sunny day in Floripa I take as an opportunity to go to the plethora of beautiful beaches that comprise the circumference of the island. After only managing to get 3 hours of sleep last night I left the house drowsy and disoriented. I waited for the bus to come yet the ne’er-do-well never showed up. I walked to the bus station and ran into my German friend's girlfriend. It turned out we were all going to the same beach so we piled on to a crowded bus and I conversed with X, who eagerly, enthusiastically and fanatically told me details in English of her recent trip to the United States. We exited the bus at Praia Mole (Soft Beach) and walked through the frigid water to find a plot of sand to call our own. They warned me that if we continued to the end of the beach we would find unpleasant nudists waiting out arrival. We stuck to Praia Mole and I played a game of fresco ball (paddleball). I explained to my new friend the onomatopoeic term my family uses for paddleball, GniP-GnoP. They liked the silly word. The sun soon set and the cold air descended upon us.
We began walking to the bus stop and saw the massive traffic jam that clogged the main road that led to the eastern coast of the island. We decided that walking would be faster than taking the bus. We ascended and then descended a steep hill. We took a shortcut that led to a canopied trail. As we walked into the lush green darkness a rouge nudist scampered off into the brush. My friend alerted me to his prescience. We waited for any nudist fall-out but it appeared the coast was clear. We walked down the path with a sudden spring the nudist leaped from the bushes. Courageously I did what any self-respecting man would, shrieked comically like a pre-pubescent girl and my friend inadvertently apologized to the man in the buff for our presence in his buck-naked sanctuary.