300 Pounds

I tend to mind my own BEEZWAX (is that how fourth graders spell it?) when I'm swimming. I ignore other people and assume other people ignore me. Guess i was correct in that assumption. There i was, at the bottom of the pool, disoriented, confused, dazed, not so much amazed (i apparently had enough time to think about this before my chest demanded oxygen), without goggles and a slight throbbing on the right side of my head. I emerge from the water (probably more like flopped to the top) and greeted my audience and the 300 pound man swimming awkwardly next to me with his big, black, flippery feet. Then he started talking, yammering on and on and on and on about his goggles and the hot tub and maybe something about those ridiculous looking flippery feet? Apparently he didn't see me, either that or he did and felt that jumping on somebody a third of his size was just the right confidence booster he needed. With a parting "we gotta stop meeting like this" (is that suave like the sexy italian or just like the cheap shampoo that smells like cough syrup? You pick.)