By Joe
The Outer Banks were desolate come Fall. As a beige VW station wagon turned into the campground, I said, “Babes,” and caught sight of their strange dog. In his 70’s hormonally-challenged lexicon, Jim replied, “Serious ‘babage.’” A babe went into the dunes, and the other into the ocean. We gave chase. One evaporated into the dunes; the other outpaced Jim, who half-drowned as she vanished. Then suddenly we noticed: no babes, no VW, no dog. Jim whispered, “The legend… the legend of Exotica and Erotica and their dog el Spotica.” Witnesses to legend, we drank heavily.
