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He Finds Himself On His Knees Gargling Drakes Bone

He finds himself on his...

The lifeguard job at the indoor pool was supposed to be my solid, my lean on. I had to be professional; I had to be discreet.

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But what had happened was like a reflex. The grunt would have been friendly to his fat neighbor and would not have iced him had his fat neighbor shuffled the lawn a little more loudly while he walked. And neither could I. Or maybe it was a joke that I started to make up but never got around to finishing.

I have to finish that joke one of these days. Speaking of tattoos, every other old guy at the indoor pool had at least one of them. Mostly military tattoos from when they were in the Navy or the Coast Guard or the Marines.

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At least, that was my guess. The ink had become splotched and smeared thin with time, and some could be easily mistaken for particularly assertive age spots.

I got He Finds Himself On His Knees Gargling Drakes Bone see a lot of these because trust me, the pool always had at least a battalion of old men with their wrinkly wives whose advanced ages daily tested my theories on the strength of pool chlorine; age always seemed like it was some sort of pus drifting out from all of them, clogging the filters of the pool and making them cough and sputter like the baldy in the bathing cap who has a touch of emphysema. I once went the entire month of January plus the first three days of February without getting my toes wet.

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