Deep Suburban Blues

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http://deaddave.tumblr.com/post/173745004/pool-shark

Here’s my latest from microcosmsfic 56. I spun Pool Hustler, Chicago, and Horror on the writing wheel. Going for a unique take on the first prompt, here’s the result…

Ever since I watched “Jaws” when I’s a kid I been damn ‘fraid swimming in my pool. It’s a suburban pool, north of Chicago, nothing fancy and it’s just me who usually swims. So I don’t gotta worry about no one else’s germs like in the public pools in the hood and if it’s my pee, then so what?

Besides, I’ve pissed myself before, sure.

I’m man enough to admit it.

I know it’s stupid. Just an irrational fear.

Always lookin’ over my shoulder. When I swam that is. Well, that’s not exactly true now is it? I’ve really worked hard at being honest, though it ain’t always easy. Really, it’s only when I swim away from it that I look over my shoulder. Glance really.

Not when I swim towards it. Ya’ know, because then it’s in front of you and when something’s in front of you you don’t have to turn your shoulder.

Unless you’re chicken shit.

I ain’t no chicken shit.

Got’s me stupid irrational fear. That’s all. Ain’t no different from you. And I know you pissed yourself too. Just like me.

But you wouldn’t call yourself no chicken shit.

My heart beats a little faster when I swim away from it.  Kinda like when I’s a kid when I’d turn off the light downstairs and run like hell up the stairs before the darkness could take a chunk out of me.

It wouldn’t kill me though, see, ‘cause I was bony back then. “It” being the darkness of course.

But this? Sure as shit it could kill me.

Swallow my ass whole.

Before I jump in the water I call myself Michael Phelps, but the only gold I got’s in my teeth.

See, you got to be Michael Phelps to outswim a pool shark.


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