Shabby, torn fabric, stained by weeks of travel and bleached from the harsh sun. Long, thin sticks held the fabric up so it formed a triangle with the earth. The sticks were buried deep within the shifting orange sand to hold off the blistering wind.
Tent, Desert
swimmer
dogs
I'm a rabid dog in this lousy excuse for a town.  My hobbies include foaming at the mouth, chasing raccoons, and biting stupid children.  If I could travel I would go see Paris because I hear they have a lot of rabid bitches there.
"Bork bork woof!" Okay boy, I'm going to throw it out long! "boooork!" *runs off to get the stick* Here you go boy! You're a faster swimming than me! *swims around the swimmer, splashing everything everywhere* Come this way boy! Let's have a race! *swims up to the swimmer, ready to race* I'm bit! I think there's a shark! "awoooooooooo" *swims down, trying to scare off the shark* Thank you for saving my life! I have to swim back to shore now. *pant, pant* "bork!" I'm going to name you Sharky. After my grandmother.