Liquid Plummer

A Commentary on the American Nightmare: Diary of the Unemployed: The Early Years Part 3

Mountain View had a pool, so during the summer, that’s where we would usually start our day. Jumping, splashing, diving, and occasionally getting kicked out was what usually comprised our daily aquatic activates. Why did we get kicked out do you ask? Well, first of all I will definitely take part of the responsibility for being a little shit. I mean I was probably eight or nine years old and I had the mouth of sailor and could turn into a rotten little punk at the drop of a hat. But let me clarify, I was not just gratuitously bratty. I had the attitude that I still have to this day. I am nice, until it is time to not be nice. (I think I just quoted Roadhouse)

My attitude and contempt at the pool were usually instigated by the ridiculous, douchetool of a human being, lifeguard Vick Taylor. No description of this chode smoker will do justice to his truly absurd appearance and persona but I will give it a shot. Picture if you can, an overweight, over tanned, forty something, guido wanna be, with permed salt and pepper hair that spends his days lying poolside slathered in baby oil, smoking Kool cigarettes. Get in line ladies.

So this is what we were up against, “Vick the dick” is what we called him under our breath. That was our victory, our revenge for hours spent poolside or banned for the day. But it was more than that; there was always an underlying resentment between us and Vick. I don’t think he liked kids too much; we were just something he had to put up with, a thorn in his side.

The thing of it was, he seemed to take a great amount of satisfaction in making us sit out of the pool, waiting in anticipation for that moment that he would let us return to the water. He actually seemed to enjoy our discomfort. He reveled in the power he had over us for those brief fifteen minutes and it did not go unnoticed, we were the kids but he was the one behaving childishly.

Maybe it was the only time in his life he had any power. After the pool closed he probably started his evening off with dinner alone in front of the TV. After dinner he would make his way to the local discotech, when that one moment of optimism where a connection with the opposite sex seemed possible, turned to failure once again. With his confidence shattered he makes his way back to his apartment with nothing but a magazine and a limited imagination to satisfy the insatiable desire that burns deep within his…well you get the picture. Then back to the pool to start the day skimming scum off the undisturbed calm that all too closely represents his uneventful life.

To be continued

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