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GORGEOUS DAY SPENT PLOTTING MURDER


An absolutely gorgeous day. Not too much humidity, clear skies,

NO WORRIES.


I can just relax in the pool

S

L

O

W

L

Y

FL OA TI N G

BACK

AND

FORT

H,

as I meticulously plot out my revenge to drown a small chubby child obsessed with splashing me. I’ve been really looking forward to planning it all out on such a

NICE,

G N I X A L E R

DAY.


Should I bounce out of the water, taking advantage of my light plastic weight? Should I drown him under another inflatable tube?

S

O

O

O

MANY

POSS

S E I T I IBIL


MAN,

I WOULD

KILL NICE

FOR A

MASSAGE

RIGHT NOW.


I HAVE

WAITED

VERY

Y L T N E I T PA


Y.

I spent all winter in a dark, musty, frankly disgusting shed. I should have been floating with a swimsuit model like it shows on my packaging. It’s just too hard to think of revenge in such a tight space, but now that I’m free, this splashing boy will get his.


There he is, lining up behind against the tall getting ready to like his life is

the diving board shrub, charge down on the line.


SO SERIOUSLY.


He’s totally oblivious to his immediate demise as he sprints down the long diving board, compressing it deeply as he launches into the air. His flabby skin is whizzing through the wind, when he

BARGES

INTO MY FRIEND WATER,

SPLASHING HIM EVERYWHERE.


Water is beginning to understand. I cautiously bounce off the concrete edge and float over the boy’s dark form.


Cicadas buzz. Trees sway and hiss. A boy is drowning.

NO CARES IN THE WORLD.


DON’T BE T O O

EMBARRASSED BECAUSE,

LIKE ,

TONS

OF PEOPLE DROWN

AALLL THE TIME.


A nice massage of hands horrifically clawing me to move over with occasional head bumps for extra pressure. Mmm, that’s the spot. He’s pushing at all the wrong places for freedom, and all the right ones for my stiff back.


LIKE A BREATH OF

FRESH AIR, IT ALL FEELS

SOOOO GOOOO


OH.


The boy swims around my tubular form, breaking Water’s surface and filling his own lungs with the same fresh air I was just enjoying. His first sight is of my plastic yellow facade which is twice as big as his head.

HE GLARES IN DISBELIEF THAT A

FUCKING INFLATABLE TUBE ALMOST KILLED HIM— as I look away uncaring. He climbs out in a daze. Water pulls back and cries.


Narrative Booklet  

A unique interpretation on being trapped under an inner tube.

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