EXT. THE BEACH-NIGHT
We still hear the squeak, squeak, squeak, but now the sound is made by crickets. On the soundtrack, Elvis Presley sings "Clambake."
Cabana Boy, now that the summer is over, I think we can finally tell you: You've made each one of us...
No, don't say it. His eyes mist. Brandi, you're a fine girl. What a good wife you would be. But my life, my love and my lady is the sea...
...sick. I was going to say, you've made each one of us physically ill with your presence.
But CABANA BOY doesn't seem to hear her. We now view the clambake campfire through his misting eyes. Everything goes blurry, and CABANA BOY gets lost in a pleasant, nostalgic reverie. The entire glorious summer passes before his eyes in flashback...
A quick-cut montage of happy scenes from the summer. As CABANA BOY reminisces, the soundtrack plays "We had joy/We had fun/We had seasons in the sun..."
The music stops abruptly, with the sound of a needle scratching across a record. CABANA BOY snaps out of his daydream. He begins to weep for the summer that is now over. His falling tears extinguish the dying embers of the campfire.
EXT. THE BEACH-THE NEXT AFTERNOON
A horse's hooves trample over the blackened remains of last night's campfire.
Laetitia, riding her beloved white Arabian steed on the beach. Slowly, the camera pulls back to reveal...CABANA BOY, following with a shovel. He is yakking, but LAETITIA is not listening.
It hurts to say goodbye, ma chere, but we must be strong. It's Labor Day, when all the cabanaero head south—to Brazil, Argentina, the Caribbean—to find another gig, another guesthouse. Me, I'm making for Mexico: Cabo, Cozumel, Ixtapa. Doesn't really matter. A cabana boy makes his home wherever he hangs his hairdo.