Hank Fowler raised an eyebrow. "I'm about to burst here. If you don't tell me, I'm going to piss all over you!"

"No, wait, I'll talk!"

The beach, surprisingly, seemed to panic. "There are no crabs around here, just a few clams," it said quickly.

"Where?"

Hank's eyes lit up, like a starving wolf that had just spotted a juicy steak.

Beach: "Three meters straight ahead there's one, five meters to the left-front there are two, and ten meters to the right there are seven!"

Hank got excited and immediately strode three meters forward, gripping his trusty shovel and starting to dig.

Clang, clang, clang...

A few shovelfuls later, a decent-sized hole had formed in the sand.

But still, no sign of any clams.

Not one to be easily discouraged, Hank kept digging.

A few more scoops, and suddenly the shovel let out a pained yelp. "Ow! That hurts like hell!"

"What's wrong, little shovel?" Hank asked, completely bewildered.

Shovel: "Boss, I'm being bitten by a huge clam... Help me!"

Hank was speechless. "You're a piece of iron. How can it possibly bite you?"

Shovel: "This thing's got a crazy strong bite! I'm really in pain! Boss, do something!"

"Can't you be a little tougher?" Hank scoffed, casually pulling the shovel out of the sand.

Clamped onto the shovel was a clam, about the size of a chicken egg, holding on for dear life.

Hank shook it a couple of times, but the clam wouldn't budge. His face darkened. "Little clam, I'm warning you, let go of the shovel right now, or you're going to regret it!"

Clam: "If I let go, will you let me go?"

Hank: "I guarantee I'll put you right into a pot!"

Clam: "..."

Into a pot? Was this guy planning to cook it?

"You asked for it!"

Seeing that the clam was unmoved, Hank's temper flared. He rushed over to a large rock and, lifting the shovel, slammed it down hard.

Crack!

The clam's hard shell fractured under the blow.

"Argh!" The clam shrieked and finally let go.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Boss, smash it! Avenge me!" the shovel roared furiously.

"No need for that," Hank chuckled.

"Why not?" The shovel was confused.

Hank smirked. "I like my food fresh."

Clam: "..."

This guy was a demon, wasn't he?

Hank glanced at the clam, then went back to digging in the sand.

Following the beach's directions, he continued to excavate.

After about ten minutes of work, he had unearthed nine more large clams. Including the first one, that made a nice round ten.

More than enough for dinner.

But Hank wasn't satisfied.

He had time, so he figured he might as well dig up some more. Even if he didn't eat them himself, he could trade them for other supplies.

So, Hank asked the beach, "Hey, little beach, any more clams around here?"

Beach: "No more clams, but there's an oyster on the rocks."

"Where?" Hank asked excitedly.

Oysters were delicious, and much meatier than clams. He had to get it.

Beach: "Straight ahead, fifteen meters, on a rock!"

Hank focused his gaze and, sure enough, spotted an oyster on a rock in the distance.

This one was a whopper, a full foot (30 cm) long, firmly attached to the rock.

Hank sized it up and strode over.

Oyster: "Human, what do you want? Are you thinking of messing with me?"

Hank chuckled. "You must be bored and lonely all by yourself, right? Come with me, buddy. I'll take you to a good place!"

Oyster: "If I go with you, I'll end up in your pot. I'm not that stupid."

"You won't play nice? Fine, we'll do this the hard way!" A ferocious glint flashed in Hank's eyes.

Oyster: "Don't underestimate me. You think you can handle me? You're not even close."

"The hell?" Hank's jaw dropped.

A mere oyster was mocking him?

He couldn't let that slide.

Looking fierce, Hank started prying at the oyster with his shovel.

But the damn thing was like it was part of the rock itself.

No matter how much he struggled, the oyster didn't budge one bit.

Hank, refusing to admit defeat, kept prying.

After just a couple of tries, the shovel cried out, "Boss, stop it! I'm about to bend! You can't use me like this!"

"You're failing me at the worst possible time!" Hank snapped.

"Human, weren't you going to do this the hard way? Come on, don't just stand there!" The oyster taunted mercilessly.

"Damn it!" Hank couldn't take this humiliation. He swung his shovel and slammed it down on the oyster.

Thunk!

The shovel bounced right off.

The oyster was completely unharmed.

Its shell was harder than a goddamn rock.

"Haha! And you thought you could handle me?" The oyster mocked him again.

Shovel: "Boss, this thing's too tough. Let's just give up!"

Hank's face was dark. He shot back, "It's because you're too soft! If you were a little harder, we would have gotten it by now!"

Shovel: "..."

Blaming others for your own shortcomings?

That was just shameless!

"Sigh!" Hank sighed, about to give up when he suddenly noticed three dark objects floating on the sea's surface not far away.

They looked like three iron chests.

But how could iron chests float?

Shouldn't they sink?

Hank paused, then it hit him.

These three iron chests had to be treasure chests!

Hank was instantly thrilled, itching to dive into the sea and haul those chests in.

But in the end, reason prevailed over desire!

This ocean wasn't like the ones on Earth. It was full of dangerous creatures. One wrong move, and he'd be dead before he knew it.

Still, three treasure chests were right there within reach. Giving up just like that was a bitter pill to swallow.

So, what could he do to get them?

Hank narrowed his eyes, his mind racing.

Suddenly, a decent idea popped into his head.

He left the beach and went over to a large tree.

Then, he took his shovel and started scraping off the bark.

Scrape, scrape...

Strip after strip of bark was peeled off by Hank.

Tree: "Human, what are you doing? I didn't do anything to you. Why are you hurting me?"

Hank smiled apologetically. "Sorry, tree bro. Just borrowing some of your bark. I'll give it back when I'm done!"

Tree: "..."

Giving it back when he was done? What good would that do?

The tree said angrily, "A man needs his face like a tree needs its bark! If you strip off all my bark, how am I supposed to live?"

Hank rubbed his nose. "I'll just take a little. You won't die!"

Tree: "Even a little hurts! Stop it!"

Hank's eyes turned cold, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "I am the master of this island. Everything on this island belongs to me, including you! I can do whatever I want. Shut your trap or I'll strip you naked!"