So, The Beach and Stuff Like That

Actually, no stuff like that. So I was at the beach the other day, as you do. It was McCorrie point. Its a little dinky beach. Your typical Portsmouth beach full of shells and rocks and seaweed and weeds and shit. It's shit for swimming but it's great for finding stuff or just hangin' out thinking. So I was thinking while picking up various pretty rocks for my grandmother searching for an epiphany of some kind when the question hit me: Why the fuck are there so many bricks on the beach? Seriously, I finds them all the time on the beaches I go to and they're nice, all smoothed out by the ocean and shit. But why are there so many of them? One or two every once in a while I can understand, like seaglass, but there's way more of them all over the place if you look. so where did they come from? Is there a natural explanation? Are they just red rocks that look like bricks? Cuz I took Earth Science freshman year of high school and the only thing I learned (from crazy talks-to-walls-no-really-he-does Mr. Rutkewitz) was how to tell brick or cement from a real rock. Was there some giant Titanic-sized tanker full of bricks that sank a hundred tears ago? and the bricks were just washed ashore now because they were all defective and floated a bit or something? I did some reasearch and it turnes out that already happened in the little island of St Maarten. but that looks very different from our beaches. I mean, what the fuck! Where did all these fucking bricks come from! Did there used to be some epic fort or something by the New England beaches but some secret government-covered-up-war happened and it got owned? So as soon as I got back, I asked, and... not even Google knew why. NOT EVEN FUCKING GOOGLE KNEW!!! That's when I realized I had uncovered a true mystery of the universe. I'm trying to make peace with the fact that I may never know why the bricks are there, but it's something I'll wonder about for the rest of my life. I have a feeling it's going to come back to haunt me one day. Like I'll be kidnaped or tortured and all they'll want to know is why, and I won't know, and I'll die strapped to a chair in a basement somewhere all because I didn't know where the bricks came from. Or some government agency will come to me and tell me there's a nuke in Amherst and the only way to stop it is to tell them where the bricks came from, and I won't know and thousands of people will die, because I lacked the curiosity to find out why. But what If I dedicate my life to finding out why? And it turns out to be some part of a secret experiment that went horribly wrong and I'm killed for knowing to much? Or what if it's some mundane answer and I realize I've wasted my life for nothing? Those goddamned bricks. Another one of the universe's unsolvable mysteries.