Elisha, let me tell you, I love being out here. Hearing the ocean roar like it do, by golly, it's like the glorious music of the spheres.

Drowns out the screaming of our victims, too. Why they have to scream like that, Elisha? Don't they know we're just helping them reincarnate into the next evolution of the species? Damn ungrateful, ain't it.

Whats the matter, Elisha? You don't look so chipper all of a sudden. Are we out of fishing line? We need the lines to be thick and taut, so we can hang them upside down until the blood pools in their brains and kills them. Too much slack and they fall into the sand. We don't want that. The sand can't be sullied by their filthy bodies. We have to throw them back to the sea, yes we do. The ocean will wash them clean of all their sins, and then they'll be reborn.

Why aren't you talking any, Elisha? Don't tell me you're angry at me. I'm just doing the bidding of the spheres.

Thank the spheres this ain't a public beach, Elisha.