Monster on the beach

The third Campaign challenge is afoot!! Yahoo! This one sounds like the most fun. The rules are below...let's see if I can pull this off. *cracks knuckles*

Write a blog post in 300 words or less, excluding the title. The post can be in any format, whether flash fiction, non-fiction, humorous blog musings, poem, etc. The blog post should show:

• that it’s morning, 

• that a man or a woman (or both) is at the beach

• that the MC (main character) is bored

• that something stinks behind where he/she is sitting

• that something surprising happens.

Just for fun, see if you can involve all five senses AND include these random words: "synbatec," "wastopaneer," and "tacise."   (NB. these words are completely made up and are not intended to have any meaning other than the one you give them).

It is SOOO hot out here. Seriously, hello global warming. I fan myself and eat a Tacise, which is so cool and pepperminty I want to rub it all over my body. 
Especially the peppermint because something kinda smells.
I peer at the woman sprawled out on the beach towel beside me. She's spilling out of her red Synbatec bikini like an overstuffed bratwurst.  An open tube of coconut-scented sunscreen lies next to her.
On the other side of me, a bunch of kids are making a sand castle. One little boy is crying, yelling something that sounds like 'wastopaneer.' I listen carefully to realize he's saying he 'wants to play here.'  
The smell isn’t from the fat woman or the kids.
I put my hand up to stare at the horizon, where Gull Island is just visible. When I was a kid, horrible smells used to drift inland from that place. Rumors said the government was experimenting on animals out there, turning them into freaks. But that was years ago.
That smell is horribly familiar, though – rancid and greasy, as if someone mixed rotting fat with manure.
Sand grits between my teeth. I should move downwind.
I rise to pick up my towel, snapping it to dust off the sand. And then I scream.
There’s a claw attached to a skeletal hand poking up right where I sat. It’s a human hand…but the claw could belong to a dinosaur. It twitches.
I scream again and the kids come running over.
“Cool!” one of them yells and then the sand erupts. There’s a blur of huge, skinless body, of  a snapping, beak-like mouth and blazing red eyes. Everyone scatters…except the crying boy.
He wasn’t fast enough.
He’s gone.
And I don’t think anyone will want to play here ever again.