The Esplanade Gang met in front of the ice cream kiosk at the appointed hour.
“Okay, everyone seems to be here,” A, their leader said.
“Not yet,” C observed. “F is missing.”
“No, I have her on a job,” A responded. “Okay, you lot know that things have been tight lately with the Lock-down and all.”
“Yeah, hardly even enough to eat,” chubby G piped in.
“Exactly, tourism is down, and so are our pickings,” A observed. “Well all that is about to change. We are going to expand our patch and muscle in on the Cliffies’ turf.”
“Is that smart, Boss?” C challenged.
“I thought about that, and as I see it, there is one area that we can move in on that they won’t raise a fuss over.”
“Were’s that?” C asked skeptically.
“The lighthouse,” A announced.
“That place is a fortress,” several objected.
“Yes, but workman have been seen with sandwiches and even chips,” A said with an enticing voice.
“Count me in,” G said immediately.
And so the Lighthouse Escapade was hatched by the gulls of the Esplanade Gang.