I work at a swim club during the summers as a lifeguard. It's an incredible job.
(I will expand upon this in future posts)
Now is the time of year when the staff repairs the wounds of winter neglect and gets the club back to operational status. The experience is mostly filthy and tedious, but every once and again there are surprises. For example, if you remember anything from this post a couple days ago, then the image of the bunny rabbit shouldn't be difficult to recall.
Well, I've got bad news for you.
Behold what we discovered earlier this afternoon:
A drowned bunny resting in the corner of the shallow end.
"Was it the same bunny?" you might be speculating in horror.
"It can't be. It just can't be."
My brain tells me the odds are slim, especially considering that we chased down five baby rabbits that day and only successfully captured the one. But in the darkness of my heart, I acknowledge how frightened we must have made that little guy and wonder...
I ruminated on the subject while giving my boss a tour of the pump house, letting my imagination weave a series of events that culminated with postmortem bloat.
A bunny is enjoying a sunny morning with his siblings.
The bunny's mother reminds him to watch his step, lest he wander into danger.
Something startles the bunny and he flees in haste!
His young instincts fail him, and the bunny tumbles into the pool. There is a moment of infinite terror as he realizes he is both aquatically-challenged and not designed for this shit. Also, the water is way too low to facilitate escape.
Stillness. The sound of gently lapping water. Curtains, if you will.
The first victim of what will undoubtedly be known as The Summer of Blood at our club.
But don't feel bad.
"In heaven, everything is fine."