In the still hours of the morning - sun still on the other side of this planet and the moon barely glancing off the water, you can see them. They are warriors and are dressed in their camaflouge suits to make them blend into the beach sand. They wear sand colored overalls with bits of plastic and cigarette butts glued on in various places. A bent soda pop straw here or there add the last cute touches. In stead of hats, they have CHEETOS bags over their heads The holes made for breathing and vision are minute. There are different versions of this attire but the basics remain the same.
Like a wind blown pile of litter, they roll strategically into place. FOCUSED - totally focused on their objective = THE CHIKI.
Looking up at one of the rooms, a signal comes. the window shades are used to send signals and messages (much like they do on ships at sea). One of the beach sand warriors flips our his RAZOR looks up at the window - and in hush tones. says - "I copy".
Slowly they creep to the chiki's of choice. Snake-like and with stealth. they near the areas and then spring up and pull out towels, books and half finished Piņa Coladas. This is "Territory Claiming Gear" The towels get flipped on to the chairs and the books and half finished drinks on the tables.
Then - they slip away. Silently - ever so silently. No one must know that they are the warriors that would come into the night and fight for shade while it is still dark - and then - often times not use it untill the sun is about to set. It must be a top secret operation. And it is. Binocular eyes with bits of moon shining from the glass lense surfaces - pull away from the windows. Mothers look at the eldest children and say "Daddy Did It!" It is a ritual. Passed on from generation to generation and the ability for the children to see and learn is priceless. Sons go back to bed with proud button-busting-chests. Mothers go to the kitchen with their daughters to prepare coffee and grub for their warriors.
The combination buttons on the door handles make their clicking sounds and in comes what appears to be a walking ball of sand with junk glued to it. The son hops out of bed and goes to the warrior and unzips the back. The war and battle torn uniform is carefully packed away.
"Which one did you get Dad?"
"I got #34 - tough battle this morning"
The kid looks up, smiles and in his mind ring out the words "That is MY dad". The father looks down and just before he is able to say something sentimental about war - in comes the coffee and the ladies of the family.
They all sit over a coffee table and look at a map. Intently they look at Chiki #1. It is circled in red.
Dad looks at his trained team and says "Tomorrow it is ours!"
The family flutters. They look at each other and blush with excitement
It is still dark
The family unit goes to sleep
In a few hours they will awaken to the reality of the day time war. Enough battle for now. Afterall - they are on vacation and need to rest
Eyes close and snoring starts. In this family, the women snore. They are a unit. They are tough. They are the CHIKI WARRIORS.