“Lately, I’m full of hostility,” I said to myself. “I realize that I just took some of my pent-up anger out on that evil-minded dragon. Now, though, I want to sit down here in this beautiful area near the ocean and sort out the rest of my lingering personal problems, complaints, and grievances.”

I sat down in the sand near a sign that read “Baywatch Patrol Area / Lifeguards on Duty.” A friendly game of volleyball was being played, just a few yards off to one side of where I tried to kick back and relax.

Baywatch lifeguard girls were playing against their male co-workers. I simply enjoyed the “scenery.” Then I decided to build a huge castle in the sand. Just after I completed the hand-made structure, a volleyball crashed right in the middle of my massive, monumental, sand castle. I was incensed! I ranted and raved, and I threw a ridiculous, child-like, temper tantrum.

Baywatch character C.J. Parker (played by Pamela Anderson) came over to retrieve the ball. She was half afraid to reach down and scoop the volleyball out of the battered and flattened sand castle. C.J. looked confounded by my frantic rage and antics. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. The voluptuous blonde hurriedly snatched up the ball and ran back to her friends, who were also perplexed by my hostile reaction to the obviously unintentional mishap.

As C.J. streaked across the sand, toward her friends, in her revealing, bright-red, one-piece swimsuit, I picked up my war club, which had been lying next to me in the sand. I raised the weapon over my head and hollered out, “Who dares to betray me and destroy my fun? Someone is going to pay dearly for this curse!”

Then, I lowered my head and asked, “Lord, how else can I release all of the personal disappointment, anguish, and rage that has gradually grown inside of me?”

God made an appearance on the sunny California beach. She also wore a bright-red, one-piece, Baywatch swimsuit. She glared at me for several seconds through Her dark-tinted Foster Grant® sunglasses.

Finally, the Lord said, “Wantsalittle, you keep reverting back to the same old problem—your aggressive nature and sometimes hostile ways!”

“I know, but I just can’t seem to help myself. I was so mad at them or at whoever destroyed my sand castle—well, I simply had to blow my top! Besides, other feelings of utter frustration have been festering in my mind and feasting on my soul, recently.”

“Allowing your problems to build up and get stirred to the boiling point is not a healthy practice. When you are really mad at someone, you won’t likely find any good in that person. You may say something or several things that you don’t really mean and that you will probably later regret. In addition, throwing a temper tantrum can cause severe personal and social repercussions. Wantsalittle, you need more satisfactory, socially acceptable, emotional-release outlets! If something is bothering you, talk to someone or to others who you can confide in. Get your troubles off of your chest in a dignified manner. And try to do this on a daily basis, before your personal anguish and anger cause you to go off of the deep end, which will only compound your troubles.”

“God, I think that I see what You mean. I should get into the habit of verbally communicating some of my thoughts—whatever is bothering me at the time—with others, who I trust. If I do, my frustration or anger won’t have a chance to build up inside of me, at least not to the point that I should lose my temper. Lord, from now on, I’ll try to confide in someone and talk with that person about some of my more pressing personal problems.”

“That would be a good start, Wantsalittle. Here is something else that you might try to prevent your emotions from getting the best of you: Why don’t you use your good sense of humor whenever you can? Tell someone the latest joke that you’ve heard. Even sarcastic remarks, properly and tastefully directed, may serve as a viable means for venting pent-up anxiety or anger.”

“I never thought of the idea that ‘joking around’ could be cleansing for the soul!”

“That’s about what it amounts to. Another thing that you could do—that is, if you eventually decide to settle down here in California—is to hang a punching bag in your recreation room or garage and smack it a few times whenever your harmful emotions are becoming inflamed. And you might go bowling or hit a few golf balls to relieve your tension. Wantsalittle, do whatever it takes, short of throwing a useless temper tantrum or taking any other unsuitable course of action, to release any demons within you. Try to do something constructive before your anger develops into troublesome, perhaps unlawful, fits of verbal aggression or overt hostile actions.”

“Thanks, Lord, for all of the great suggestions! Is there anything else that You’d like for me to do in this respect?”

“There is something else that I want you to remember: When unfavorable conditions or circumstances are bothering you, intermittently, throughout life, you can make those trying times more tolerable, for both yourself and for those around you, if you stay calm and think and act rationally!” God trotted across the beach, heading straight for the water in Her alluring Baywatch swimsuit. Then She disappeared into the depths of the deep, blue, Pacific Ocean.

Shortly after the Lord left, I had calmed down enough to go over and apologize to C.J. Parker and the others for my earlier, improper self-conduct. I walked up to C.J. and said, “I’m sorry for the way that I behaved! I shouldn’t have taken my longtime personal animosity and poor-spirited attitude out on you and your friends. Please forgive me for my inexcusable, ill behavior.”

“That’s all right!” C.J. exclaimed, adjusting the right shoulder strap on her scanty lifeguard outfit as she spoke.

C.J. asked, “See that pier over there? Would you like to go for a stroll with me? Maybe we could sit down, together, for a few minutes. I’d like someone new to chat with for a change.”

“Yes—I’d like to do that!” I replied.

“My name is C.J. Parker. . . . Just call me ‘C.J.’! And what’s your name?”

“C.J., I already knew your name. I’ve watched you on Baywatch. I thought that those TV episodes were fictitious in nature, but here we are, standing side by side, in real life! Anyhow, my name is Sir Wantsalittle Morefromlife . . . you can call me Wantsalittle.”

“That’s an interesting name. Nice to meet you. I’m not sure, though, that I want to address you as ‘Wantsalittle.’” C.J. giggled for a few seconds and said, “Okay, Sir Wantsalittle Morefromlife, please follow me.”

We walked out on a wooden pier, which jutted out about fifty yards into the ocean. We sat and watched and listened as the gentle waves rolled up against the slightly wobbly, waterlogged landing. C.J. dangled her bare feet, and she wiggled her pretty little toes in the cool, high tide.

I sloshed my feet around in the water, too. But I had my heavy, clumsy boots on. Clumps and cakes of wet sand, which had clung to the metal edges and straps of my steel boots as I had strolled across the beach, now washed away. Thousands of sand pebbles swirled in the water and settled their way to the bottom of the clear-blue sea.

All of a sudden, C.J. clasped both of her hands behind her head. Then the blonde bombshell tilted back a little and inhaled an enormous gulp of the humid, salt-dampened, Southern California air.

“I can relate with your wanting to release the built-up anger within you,” C.J. said after she exhaled. “Everyone has problems that he or she should disclose and discuss with people who they can trust. At times, there are things that I’d like to get off of my chest, too! Wantsalittle, do you have any suggestions on how I can release my growing feelings of indignation and my incidental moments of fury or wrath in more socially acceptable ways?”

As if she were posing for a pin-up poster, C.J. still assumed that same, grandeur, leaning-back-with-hands-behind-her-head posture. With my tongue in cheek and not knowing exactly what to say, I simply replied, “H-u-m-m . . . ?”

(The moral of this episode: “Get it off your chest” by looking for satisfactory, socially acceptable, emotional-release outlets!)

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