A BUG IN THE
POOL
Copyright (c) by Rick Yost
While
playing fetch with his dog in the front yard, the ball bounced into the street.
Fred watched in horror as Monte, his lovable seven-year-old German Shepherd,
chased the little bouncing ball into traffic and was killed by a car. Fred
was heart-broken. The couple driving the murderous vehicle cussed Fred out
profusely and promised to sue him for dent removal and mental anguish. This
was the start of Fred’s week.
The next morning- late for work, Fred rear-ended a car at a stop sign. To
his surprise the other driver was the Pastor of his Church. After cussing
Fred out for his ‘apparent stupidity’, the Pastor was sent by
ambulance to the hospital suffering severe whiplash. Fred’s car was
deemed un-safe to drive and towed away causing him to miss most of yet another
day at work. The Pastor promised to sue Fred for damages. Fred’s insurance
company promised to cancel his policy.
Fred was a forty-three year old business manager for a company that owned
a dozen One Hour photo stores in the area. Fred was happily married-no children,
and lived in a middle-class neighborhood full of middle-class houses, and
middle-class families. Fred was a quiet fellow, almost shy in demeanor, and
led a fairly un-eventful life by design.
Fred was a nice guy- his Karma account was just over-drawn. He was experiencing
so many unfortunate circumstances at once that he felt he was in the Twilight
Zone. His allergies were aflame. He'd had severe diarrhea three days in a
row. While stepping from the shower he slipped and pulled a groin muscle.
His Rogaine seemed to be having the opposite from desired affect. A pickup
truck full of drunken high school kids mistook his house for a similar house
five doors down the block. They covered Fred’s trees, lawn, and front
door with toilet paper and eggs. Fred was near the end of his rope.
Then after a full week of calamity, came Friday morning. He and his wife of
five years had just sat down to breakfast. Suddenly she burst into a teary
and blubbered admission of her love and two-year sexual relationship with
her co-worker, Yvonne.
Later that same morning on the way to work he stopped to buy a doughnut. On
the way back to his car he was attacked and bitten on the hand by a hungry
street person. He spent the next four hours waiting in a busy health clinic
for a Tetanus shot.
With more than half his day wasted, he decided to call in sick at work. Expecting
to leave his well-rehearsed ‘sick’ message on his employer's voice
mail, he was surprised when his boss actually answered his phone. The conversation
was short and sweet- he was fired.
Trying to keep hold of his sanity, he resolved to spend what was left of the
day relaxing in his back yard pool.
He stood admiring his new pool nestled in the middle of his newly landscaped
backyard. It was a beautiful, sunny, summer afternoon and he was glad to be
in his private sanctuary from the world. He turned the poolside radio on to
some soft music and then went inside to mix a cocktail and change into his
swimsuit. Moments later he returned and cannon-balled into the cool water.
He had decided to deal with reality tomorrow. For the rest of the day he was
just going to enjoy his pool.
After only a few minutes of swimming, he was horrified to see a bug next to
him fluttering along the top of the water. Violently startled, he screamed
and frantically splashed his way out of the pool. Fred had Entomophobia- a
clinically diagnosed irrational fear of insects. Since childhood he’d
had many frightening encounters with bugs, and here again he was menaced by
one of these vile creatures.
He grabbed the pool net hanging inside the privacy fence. He appreciated the
long handle for enabling him to keep a safe distance. However, the bug had
disappeared. After twenty minutes of searching he gave up and decided it must
have flown away.
Determined to relax, he returned to the pool and lay on his back on a blow-up
mattress float. While being soothed by the gentle bobbing of the float on
the water and the warm sun on his body, he folded his arms behind his head
and closed his eyes.
He enjoyed peace and quiet for about a minute. Then he suddenly opened his
eyes in terror to find the bug had returned and landed on his chest. He nearly
drowned from his convulsive reaction. Shrieking like a little girl, he quickly
climbed the stairs at the shallow end to escape the bug. He stood doubled
over at the pool edge choking and spitting out water. Between gasps for air
he looked back to see the bug coming toward him across the top of the water.
In the few seconds it took him to reach for the net the bug had once again
vanished.
Rage filled him as he thought of the problems he’d had over the last
couple of days. He was already depressed from the apparent loss of his wife’s
love and their impending separation. He got choked-up just thinking of his
loveable dog’s death. And now that he’d lost his job of eight
years, he wondered how he would continue afford the house and car payments.
The vile, black, winged creature was some type of beetle about the size of
Fred’s thumb. No matter how small it was, in Fred’s mind, it was
an especially ugly, carnivorous monster with huge, sharp fangs and glowing,
red eyes. It was hideous and it was intent on eating Fred alive.
After everything else, this bug was the last straw for Fred. As it had been
all his life, he knew intellectually he should be able to handle an insect,
but emotionally he couldn’t stop the panic attacks they caused.
Unable to locate his new Nemesis anywhere in the backyard, Fred had the chilling
thought that it might have flown into the house through the open patio door.
Of course this meant that Fred wouldn’t be able to sleep until he found
it.
He spent the rest of the night and most of the next day cautiously inspecting
everything in his house. Piece by piece, every chair, table, desk, bed, bookcase
and box was cautiously inspected. Anything Fred thought the bug could hide
in, or under, was viewed suspiciously from a distance, nervously kicked at,
and then sprayed with insecticide. After each item was finally deemed bug-free,
he would drag it out to his front lawn.
Fred’s neighbors couldn’t help but stare at the big, blue tarp-covered
mound of furniture in the middle of his yard. A yard, already made conspicuous
with lengths of toilet paper hanging from the trees and shrubs.
After another day gone with no sign of the bug, his whole house was empty
except for a few dishes in the kitchen and a barstool.
It was now late evening. He had to accept the fact that the bug was not in
the house. Instead of this giving him reason to relax and finally get some
rest, it infuriated him. Exhausted and deprived of sleep, Fred’s frustration
caused him to weep uncontrollably. He felt the stress of this unwanted infestation
would send him over the edge.
With the smell of insecticide throughout the house, he sat on his barstool
in the middle of his bare den, eating a TV dinner and staring at his pool
through the closed sliding glass door. It was evening, yet the whole backyard
was well lit by patio floodlights and the pool light.
Fred sat staring into space, not enjoying his TV dinner, not focusing his
vision on anything in particular. He went over the events of the last week
in his mind. Just as he was concluding that God was punishing him for hospitalizing
the Pastor, he saw it- the bug was back.
It sat on the far edge of the pool and appeared to be staring right at him.
Fred jumped. He was instantly frightened. Not knowing how long it had sat
there watching Fred made his skin crawl.
In Fred’s mind it was taunting him, daring him to venture outside where
it would attack him again. This was not just some bug that happened to fly
into Fred’s backyard. This was an evil monster. This was the Devil himself
who had come in the guise of a meek and mindless creature to steal Fred’s
soul. Fred thought the Devil’s first step in stealing a soul must be
to steal one’s sanity.
He sat frozen, locked in the chilling stare of this demon’s beady eyes.
He felt he was as close to insanity as he’d ever been.
“I am just about to lose it!” Fred mumbled as he glared back at
the motionless creature. He felt he’d already lost so much, “At
this point losing my mind will hardly be noticed.”
Anger was building up in him like he had never felt before. And then he snapped.
He flew into a rage, jumped up and rushed to the sliding glass door. With
fire in his swollen, bloodshot eyes he slammed his palms against the glass.
The sound reverberated in the big empty room. He felt he could spit venom
as he stared at the bug on the side of the pool. “Nothing has gone right
for me this whole week. And now I’ve thrown all my damned furniture
out in the front yard.”
His anger subsided for just a moment and his face turned sad as he pleaded, “What more do you want from me?”
He turned his attention to his beautiful pool, less than ten feet from him,
separated only by plate glass and his fear. With his face against the glass
and tears in his eyes he watched the blue water ripple in the breeze.
He didn’t notice the bug had taken flight. He was still staring at the
water when the bug landed with a thud on the outside of the glass right in
front of his face. He let out a bloodcurdling scream and convulsively leapt
away from the glass. He stood there violently shaking and staring at the underside
of the bug through the glass. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried
to stop shaking while he screamed, “What do you want from me?”
Then as his composure slowly returned, so did his anger. “How can something
so small frighten a grown man so much?” After a moment of reflection
he added, “I am so damned tired of being afraid!” Then one more
time he looked past the bug to the beautiful blue water. He said in a determined
voice, “No! You are not going to keep me from the only thing I have
left. I may soon be evicted from this house, but until then I will continue
to swim in that pool.” He stepped closer to the glass and the bug, “Do
you hear me? That’s my pool!” He took another brave step closer,
“One of us has got to go, and it’s not going to be me!”
Suddenly a thought came to him like a bolt from the sky. “Yes!”
he said as he turned and ran to his bedroom. He came back to the den, stood
in front of the glass door, and aimed his loaded shotgun directly at the bug.
Just as he pulled the trigger the bug took flight. The blast sent shattered
glass all over the pool and patio. He couldn’t believe he’d missed-
he couldn’t believe the bug chose that instant to fly away.
He pulled back the pump, loading another shell into the chamber. He sheepishly
stepped through the now non-existent glass door. Broken glass crunched under
his shoes. Carefully he scanned the area searching for his target. His ears
were still ringing from the blast but he was now determined to take back what
was left of his life and his beloved pool.
He stepped close to the water’s edge. The pool light shone up through
the rippling water casting an eerie blue-green glow on the privacy fence around
the yard. He cautiously scanned the water for signs of the predator now turned
prey.
Suddenly the bug landed at his feet. Surprised, Fred pointed the gun toward
the ground, missed the bug, and shot himself in the foot. After a painful
scream, he wiggled his bleeding foot and counted two toes missing.
Angry, in severe pain, and bleeding all over his new, white concrete pool-deck,
he began frantically firing at anything that moved. The bug kept its distance;
yet continued to flutter around Fred in a taunting manner. After five missed
blasts he pulled more shells from his pocket and reloaded. For several minutes
he turned round and round, shooting at the quickly darting insect. To his
dismay it continued to move just in time to stay alive.
He stopped from exhaustion and took a look around. Still holding his explosive
flyswatter, he began to cry seeing the senseless damage he’d done to
his house, the patio furniture, and his beautiful pool. With frustration and
anger he shouted, “Where are you? Come back here and get me!”
Suddenly he heard the buzz of wings by his ear as the bug landed on his shoulder.
Instant, convulsive-panic sent Fred into a frenzy of jumping, arm flailing,
and screaming. He twirled, beating his shoulder with the barrel of the gun
trying to rid himself of the creature. His wounded, useless foot gave way
under him and he fell backward into the deep end of the pool.
Under the water, still in a panic, he felt his chest heave as he tried to
gasp for air but only took in water. ”Oh God, I’m drowning!” he thought to himself, still sinking toward the bottom of the pool. Disoriented,
engulfed in a cloud of swirling bubbles, while gripping the shotgun in one
hand he struggled to determine which way was up.
He thought of how ironic it was that he should die in the pool, his last remaining
refuge from the chaotic world. His beautiful pool that he enjoyed so much
would be his watery grave. He had no doubt that the bug would be sitting on
the fence grinning as the paramedics pulled Fred’s lifeless body from
the water.
Then instead of seeing his whole life pass before his eyes, Fred saw the events
of the past week replay in his mind. “No, I am not going to die today,
not like this!” He then opened his eyes from the darkness and pain in
his lungs to see the way up. His instinct to survive gave him the strength
to fight his way toward the surface. Just before his face broke the water,
he stopped. He spotted the bug on the surface of the water lit from beneath
by the pool light. His tired heart sank.
The bug swam directly above him on the surface as if trying to keep him under
the water until the end. Just below the top of the water, Fred held the submerged
shotgun under the bug and pulled the trigger. The bug was obliterated as it
and water was shot high into the air.
Fred broke the top of the water and grabbed the side of the pool where he
desperately tried to cough up the water in his lungs and replace it with air.
Choking and coughing, he slowly pulled himself to the steps and crawled out
of the water. He lay on the deck gasping for air and wincing in pain.
After several minutes of recovery, laying face down on the glass and blood
covered patio, he began to smile and then broke into a laugh. He pulled himself
up off the concrete and stood triumphant at the edge of the pool. He raised
his arms, looked up to the starlit sky, and shouted, “I got you, you
son-of-a-bitch!” He laughed like a crazy man as he hobbled around in
a victory dance, leaving a trail of blood from his wounded foot. Even the
pain was joyous to him.
“Finally,” he exclaimed, “Something has gone my way!”
He was still dancing and laughing when the Police came through the fence gate
with their weapons drawn. The shotgun lay at the bottom of the pool. With
four confused officers aiming their guns at him, he paid no attention and
continued to revel in the successful killing of his Nemesis.
Finally, he did acknowledge them and with a broad smile on his face he said, “Good evening officers. You’re probably here to arrest me aren’t
you?” He continued to speak as if it were the happiest day of his life,
“That’s okay. You know why? Because I finally killed that little
bastard. He won’t bother me anymore!”
He glanced around his yard again, and then he stared back into the water and
said, “What do you guys think of my new pool? Pretty nice huh?”