Mr. Turtle Pool Terror

I walked out of K-Mart on a hot summer day, thinking about how good it would feel to submerge my sweaty self in some cool water. Apparently the family that walked out behind me had the same idea, and not a minute too soon, as a funny smell of fermented fish boulion emanatted from their sooty pores. There stood the stinky family, dad in his sleeveless t-shirt that said, "Drop the Chalupa", a witty Taco Bell catch phrase from the 1990's. Mom had on short pants that were too thin for her legs making each look like a sausage that had been liberated from its casing.

The kids were cute, a boy and girl, brother and sister, one day to be husband and wife. They scampered around in a circle, swollen in anticipation. Soon the red-vested clerk appeared in the doorway with the new plastic pool, one of those that is shaped like a turtle, only with a concave shell area.

The kids were estatic, this was clearly a big deal, and it was cool to see that they were so crazy excited about the big bowl. The family progressed across the parking lot to a blue 1968 Chevy Chevelle Malibu Classic SR (the one with the V8 350 with pocket ported torqer heads, the comp 280 cam, edelbrock performer intake, and holly 600) that had "antique" plates, yet it was completely covered in grey bondo patches. A bitchin' ride. The children piled into the back seat where they were likely conceived, and dad set the new pool onto the roof. Mom slithered into the car, dad climbed into the car, and no tether was produced to retain the pool.

Instead, the car backed out of the parking space, and the windows descendend into the doors. Next a little tatooed stick arm emerged from each side of the car to grasp on to the pool. Dad burned a little rubber and headed toward the open road. I was overcome with a very clear picture of what the future would hold... And I had to witness it first hand.

I ran to my car and caught up to the family at a stoplight, the fragrant family's exhaust mixing with that of their car. When the light turned green they jerked to a start, merged onto the highway and quickly accelerated.

10... 20........ 30.......... 40................ 50......................

The large plastic dome shook on its base, the little grimy hands fighting Bernoulli's famous principle with all the strength their track-marked arms could muster. Instead of pulling over, dad pushed it a little faster, probably thinking "If we can only get to 70 it'll glue down".

A sudden snap of wind broke the disc free from the hands that held it, lifting it gently into the fracas of swirling highway wind currents. Two little faces popped up in the rear window, eyes open and mouths agape as the new turtle pool danced on the wind currents for a few seconds before it chanced to crash to earth direcly in the path of a speeding semi. It was crushed to a plastic pancake in an interval faster than mom through the door at a WalMart early bird sale.

Above the brake lights I saw the two little faces screaming in absolute horror. Mom started hitting dad with the other tatooed arm and dad pulled over. I kept driving because I didn't want to watch him frogger across I-75 to fetch a fragmented kiddie pool, but it probably would have made a good blog for another day in and of itself.

The moral of the story might be to use rope to tie stuff down to your car, but I think the greater lesson is to be sensitive to when something funny might unfold before you, then do what you can to witness it when it happens. The image of those screaming kids, faces glued to the rear window is so burned in my memory that I laugh whenever I think about it. In the future I'm going to buy a digital camera so I can capture these images to share here, as they can be priceless.