While sitting amidst the hot dry desert sand, a surfer that had been traveling for centuries appeared before the deep blue. Eyes shielded by the storming waves and the boiling heat behind him, he charged for the glory. For hours he battled and fought, but mother nature held firm. Was this entire journey a fluke? Was the other surfer stealing the swell from beneath him? Just when all hope was lost, a dm somehow slipped through the waterproof isolation device sleeve and into his ear. A slab, just northwest of here was barreling towards him with no signs of stopping. With all of his will and might, the surfer hucked his meat into the massive peeling barrel behind him, standing up and having the ride he long awaited. When the session was all said and done, he plunged back into the ocean but was never seen again. Some around those parts call him the desert turtle.