Throwing a hand onto the edge of the boat, he hurdles into the small vessel, his floral skirt billowing boldly.
“I think you’re right,” says a female voice. “Maybe the word he wanted was ‘raze.’”
He quickly hauls in Darrah and Tijuana and clutches one in each arm as they windmill their arms and try to pull away.
“That’s not a good nickname then,” says Sandra. “Maybe we should call you ‘Johnny the Cheat.’” The rest of the tribe laughs appreciatively. A few applaud.
“Or maybe I should just make you run laps, Mr. Excitement. How would you like that?!”
Jeff laughs the laugh of a man who knows a secret and follows that up quickly with the laugh of a man who knows another man isn’t even close to guessing it. (This one killed me!

)
He slumps to the ground behind the table and lays on his back, his body racked by his own mirth.
(I can't help it - I love Crazy Jeff.

)
He pushes his sparkly gold “Rupert” beret back on his head and wipes his brow. Two more tickets flake off the central core of wet tickets.
“Oh, not again,” Jeff groans.