Starting to sounder like a bad time

Gilda had been sunning herself on the beach, belly up, crystals about her neck reflecting the late autumn sun like glittering jewelry. She groaned as her nephews screaming ripped through the air. What had he gone and gotten himself into now? Weren't those damn naked mole rats doing their damn job?

She felt the sand shudder beneath her back and rolled to her feet just in time to avoid a trampling. "Fer fucksake!" She spat, sand flying in all directions as her sunbaking brain caught up with just what was going on. Well fuck. This was problematic. Throwing up a quick howl for the other Raiders to come and help save Rip's ass, maybe they could do a bit of pest control while they were at it. Pig spit sounded glorious, if they could get close enough to the enraged beasts to not end up on the menu themselves.

"speech"