Fred’s dog was killed by a car. Playing with the dog in the front yard, Fred mistakenly threw the ball into the street, and his faithful companion of seven years dutifully chased it into the traffic. Fred was heart-broken. The couple driving the murderous vehicle eventually sued Fred for dent removal and mental anguish.
The next morning, late for work, he rear-ended a car at a stop sign. To Fred’s surprise the other driver was the Pastor of his Church. 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 sued Fred for damages. Fred’s insurance company cancelled his policy. His fellow parishioners shunned him.
Fred was experiencing so many unfortunate circumstances at once 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 one morning he slipped and pulled a groin muscle. His Rogaine seemed to be having the opposite from desired affect.
One night 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 came that fateful 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 he stopped to buy a doughnut on the way to work. On the way back to his car he was attacked and bitten on the hand by a 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.
Before he could finish leaving his well-rehearsed message on his employer's voice mail, his boss cut in on the line. He told Fred that when he did make it to work he should clean out his desk because he was fired.
Trying to keep hold of his sanity he headed for home and the serenity of his back yard. He resolved to spend the rest of the day relaxing.
After arriving home he stood admiring his new kidney shaped 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. He 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 spot a bug next to him in the water. Violently startled, he screamed and frantically splashed his way out of the pool.
Fred has “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 stepped to the fence and grabbed the pool net, appreciating the long handle for enabling him to keep a safe distance. However, on returning to the water’s edge, he found the bug had disappeared. After twenty minutes of searching, he gave up and decided the bug must have flown away.
Determined to relax, he returned to the pool and lay on his back on a blowup, 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 to escape the bug. Once out of the pool, he stood doubled over at the 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.
This bug incident was just another addition to his latest troubles. He was already depressed at the apparent loss of his wife’s love and their impending separation. He would get choked-up just thinking of his loveable dog. Now he wondered how he would continue to make the house payments after losing his job of eight years.
It wasn't a very large bug; some type of beetle about the size of Fred’s thumb. Never the less, in Fred’s mind it was an especially ugly, black, carnivorous monster with huge, sharp fangs and glowing, red eyes. It was hideous. It was intent on eating Fred alive and he could not stop the panic attack it was causing.
Unable to locate his new Nemesis anywhere in the backyard, Fred convinced himself that it must 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 the bug and killed it.
Fred spent the rest of that night and most of the next day cautiously inspecting every piece of furniture in his house. Piece by piece, every couch, chair, table, desk, bed, or box was removed. Anything Fred thought the bug could hide in, on, or under was first scanned from a distance, then nervously approached, kicked and sprayed with insecticide. After each item was finally deemed “bug free”, he would drag it out and stack it on the front lawn.
Fred’s neighbors couldn’t help but stare at the 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.
Another whole day was gone with no sign of the bug. His whole house was now empty except for some dishes in the kitchen and a dining room chair.
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 Raid throughout the house, he sat on his single dining room chair in the middle of his bare den, eating a TV dinner and staring out the sliding glass door toward the pool. The backyard was well lit by the patio floodlights and the pool light.
Fred sat and 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 seemed to be staring right at him. Fred jumped, instantly frightened, realizing he had no idea how long it had sat there watching him and this 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 disguise as 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 said aloud as he stared back at the motionless creature. He felt he’d already lost so much. “At this point, losing my mind will hardly be noticed.”
After all he’d been through in his life, the thought of this bug sending him over the brink, built up anger in him he had never felt before.
Then he snapped. He flew into a rage, jumped up from the chair, and ran 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.”
Seething with anger, for just a moment, 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 the plate glass and his own 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 take flight. He was still lamenting his inability to enjoy the only thing he had left, 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 cried. “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 window. 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 glow on him and the privacy fence around the yard. He cautiously scanned the water for signs of the predator turned prey.
Suddenly the bug landed at his feet. Surprised, Fred shot toward the ground, missing the bug and splattering several of his toes all over the patio.
Frightened, angry, now in severe pain and bleeding all over the new, white concrete pool deck, he began frantically firing at anything that moved. After five missed blasts he pulled more shells from his pocket and reloaded. For several minutes he slowly turned round and round, shooting at the phantom bug that continued to buzz him. 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. 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 saw the bug, 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!”
Then he stared into the water and said, “What do you guys think of my new pool? Pretty neat huh?”

********************************

After they sewed up his foot, and he spent the night in the county jail, one of his friends bailed him out. Before returning home to the mess he’d have to deal with, he decided to go have a few cocktails, and listen to some music. He crawled into a cab and went straight to Pearl. You should make plans to join him there. Buy the poor guy a drink. He’s the one with the limp.