Mr. Funk high fives a kid on the beach. The kid smiles. Mr. Funk rocks. He dances down the boardwalk, waving at random people. Mr. Funk is awesome.
He walks into the sand dunes, chillin' and relaxing. He plays on his fancy saxophone. Then he hears the first bullet. He doesn't know where it came from, but it misses him by a foot. Another shot is fired, and this time he can see someone in the distance. He avoids the bullet because he's Mr. Funk and zig zag dances over to the shooter. He almost drops his hands.
It's Cool Guy.
Cool Guy lowers the gun. Mr. Funk's plastered on smile doesn't feel right anymore. He thought Cool Guy was his friend, his brother, his--
Mr. Funk slaps Cool Guy in the face with his long, orange arm. Cool Guy is offended. He draws his gun, but Mr. Funk waves his arms in an "I'm sorry" motion. Cool guy sighs and opens his arms. Mr. Funk fits himself in between them and they hug it out. When they release, there is a sort of tension in the air. Cool Guy looks right into Mr. Funk's blackened eyes. He stares back. They lean in and kiss, their paper mâché mouths not doing anything except leaning against each other.
Cool Guy's friend appears out of nearby bushes. He screams.
"Why, Cool Guy, why?"