The menu was overpriced. The names were ridiculous. But right then, with the sound of splashing, screaming, and fake cannon fire in the air, Liam decided that Pirates Bay could charge whatever it wanted. Because some moments—and some chicken tenders—were worth their weight in gold doubloons.
Maya, all of nine years old and a self-proclaimed chicken tender connoisseur, pointed a decisive, pruney finger toward the larger of the two thatched-roof stands. A giant wooden sign, carved to look like a ship’s wheel, read: pirates bay waterpark menu
Liam took a bite of his own Barnacle Burger , which was, to be fair, surprisingly juicy despite the wilted lettuce. As a splash of blue raspberry shot up through his straw, he watched his daughter grin, a smear of honey mustard on her cheek. The menu was overpriced
“Dad,” she announced, treading water, “my treasure map says it’s time for grub.” As a splash of blue raspberry shot up
Maya dipped a tender. She took a bite. Her eyes went wide.
