The ocean is a capricious lover. Only the most stalwart of sailors can love her passionately and for life. Although Rufus thought himself stalwart, passionate, very much a great lover of women, and for his whole life, which would incline us all to believe him capable of the passionate love for the sea which characterizes so many of the great men from history, Rufus was not prepared for the cold rain which the ocean sent him this night, sans bed, sans trousers, sans money, and sans house as he was. He stood for a moment in the open air and felt the first drizzle of rain begin hitting his face and shoulders. He turned back and raised his hand as if to knock at the door of the caravan to ask about his trousers, which were inside of the wrong caravan, but as he raised his hand to knock, the caravan door opened a crack and the old woman said,

“Get away from the caravan, you.”

“My trousers are inside on the floor.”

“Come and get them in the morning.”

“It is raining.”

“The weather channel said it would hit about one in the morning.”

“Is it that late already?”

“I don’t know.”

“I would love to have my trousers–or perhaps you can tell me, where is my aunt’s caravan?”

“How should I know? Get away from here!”

“I’m a sensitive artist; I’m sure we can come to an understanding!”

The woman sniffed, spat, and said, “Get away from my caravan, or I’ll shoot.”

She shut the door.

“Aargh!” Rufus said as he turned away to face the cold, rainy night where there was to be weeping and gnashing of teeth. The clouds covered the stars so he didn’t even have the luxury of sleeping under them like a gypsy. A distant flash of lightning momentarily lit up the landscape and Rufus saw the dunes stretching before him towards the ocean, the bushes and grasses already swinging in the wind as the storm approached.

“There is no telling which one is my aunt’s,” he said.

When another flash of lightning lit up the area, he surveyed the caravan park. Further off, away from the caravans on the edge of the dunes he saw a building–or what appeared to be a building. He ran towards it–perhaps it was shelter? Yes, with another flash of lightning he read a sign in the window: “For Sale” and that decided him: here was a momentary salvation from the falling rain. An empty caravan for sale. The universe had not abandoned him to sleep under the stars like a gypsy; no, he would sleep inside of this empty caravan. He tried the door. It opened. He stumbled into the darkness of the caravan and stood still waiting for another flash of lightning. He was scared of the dark so he didn’t dare make a move.

He stood there waiting for another flash of lightning for a really long time until he had to pee so badly that he turned back, pushed open the door, and walked a ways out into the dunes and peed his little heart out.

Once he finished, Rufus felt more confident and he turned back to inspect the empty caravan. He tried to push open the door, but, strange to say, it would not open. When he left the caravan to pee, he had somehow tripped the lock and now he was locked outside in the dark.

“So, now I will sleep under the stars like a gypsy?” Rufus said aloud to himself.

And, that’s when the rain started up again and Rufus began weeping and gnashing his teeth.

The end.