Lifeguarding (Day 5)

Day 5.

I enter the leisure center, there is a rotating barrier entry system. Already being a bad mood (Read Cynical Train Trip), wasn’t helped by the fact a confused boy continuously run his entry card, which had its black “reading” strip up, through the scanning slot. He removed it checked it over, and repeated. He changed nothing, yet by examining it with his eyes he expected it to somehow now work. He eventually reached the logical conclusion that it was the wrong way up and we proceeded through. I met Becky who seemed very cheerful and we sat down to chat in the cafe. The subject turned to GCSE’s, she was complaining how she was getting E’s And F’s in my best scoring subjects of maths and physics. She requested we swapped brains for the day. The weak women makes an unwanted entrance, she weakly drags a chair up beside me, before launching into a coughing fit and genuinely ruining the steady stream of conversation up to the point. She didn’t look any worse than last time, but considering she was knocking on death’s door on day 4, it was probably a good thing. However when I looked at her pale, blotch ridden head, one striking resembles was triggered in my subconscious. She bared a striking resemblance to the back of Quirrel’s head in Harry Potter And The Philosopher’s Stone, but not just any voldermort, oh no. Imagine strangling Quirrel from behind, the back of his head flood fills deep red and patchy, pressure now builds behind the eyes of the half blood prince, they bulge outwards, owl like. Now imagine some thin cheap pair of glasses overlaid, you now have an insight into the horrors I have to endure pretty much every other day. I look round to see the weirdest boy I have ever noticed, he entered with a strikingly camp walk, I peer up to see a foundation smothered face which resembled the appearance of a waxed conker. He had a uniquely bizarre arrangement of facial hair, which resembled the striking war paint of Darth Maul. Becky picked on this immediately, “he’s a batty boy” she whispers, “he takes it right up the batty”. I can do nothing but agree as he arcs behind me, swinging his hips heading for the coffee shop counter. The conversation now heads back to education. Becky asks me what I want to be when I’m older, I answer honestly with “architecture”, she asks “what’s that?”, I reply with “designing buildings”. Suddenly old woman butts in with the statement, “and bridges”, before bursting into her forth fit of deep, painful coughs. We ignored her. Bored I looked around the room, at first glance I thought I saw a giant mole sat in a chair at the other end of the room. In fact it was a fat round women, cloaked in a soil coloured furry coat, her was highlighted with the colours of an autumn forest floor. I had a powerful inner urge to shout “Go AWAY!” to her, despite the fact she hadn’t spoke and was just drinking coffee, I suppressed this urge before glaring disgusted at her brown Ugg boots. Becky was still looking begrudgingly at the make up boy saying “the fact he knows how to put foundation on is the freakiest bit”. To conclude the coffee shop introduction a group of little kids with skateboards enter, the only words they mutter collectively are “Nai Nai, Naaaaaiii”. As I believe this is an N-Dubz derivative, I hated them instantly.

We enter the classroom area, Becky was now talking about the 4th tattoo she wants done. She then goes onto say how Vicky has a tattoo of an M for Molly on her belly, but wishes to get it inked over with a gun. Coincidently Vicky enters and pats me on the head, “hello Bradderz”. A newish girl enters holding a vimto, her new hair style with streaks of colour resembles the colour of the can. The room began to smell of talc powder as the old woman entered, she removed her coat revealing a stripy black and yellow top. Coupled with her hair which through from deep black roots to a mildly believable blonde she resembled a enlarged wasp with white paint spat in its deformed face. Fenwick entered, wearing the cool beret and recurring diamond ring. We began talking about the spinal column and the tail bone, the instructor said “the tail bone is the remainder of our tail, from when some of us used to swing around in trees”. He let out an unexpected “Heurrrr!” sound. His mouth formed a circle as he made this sound, bearing no teeth and resembling a tortoise having its shell ripped off. A boy at the back with bleach blonde hair asked someone for a highlighter, Fenwick was on the ball and said “think your hair is light enough son”. Becky then nudged me saying that the round headed chubby guy had been wearing the same grey trackies since we began the course. However I managed to remember the horrible brown coloured ones he wore on thursday and told her, she merely replied saying her had just pooed himself that day, and washed them for today. The instructor made a frail dig at one of the people for answering a question wrong, they jokingly said, “why are you so mean”, he replied with: “Ive always been mean, and nothing has changed”, ironically I sniggered as I made another mental note of the occurrences at my lifeguard course. The old wasp lady was talking shit again, (* It’s not just me who thinks she is an idiot), Becky looked at me and mimed “shut up”, she then stretched her eyes apart and mimed, “i’m old and look like a frog”. I then went off to the toilet, as I walked down the corridor an angry 6 year old launched his drinks bottle at some lockers with great velocity. His mum weakly muttered “Don’t” as he ran off. We then discussed what to do if someone from the pool needed to be sick, vile woman then did an impression of someone being sick, which looked too realistic and was followed by another succession of coughs, I’m scared spending this much time in a confined space with her will give me no end of evidently malicious virus’s. Becky then went in my lifeguard booklet, she drew a heart around an ugly woman’s head, annotating it with such things as “lovers since 1-2-2004” and “I love you forever”. This was then followed by a frantic session of her raiding my book, I have never had so much fun watching someone draw hearts around elements of pictures, such as; a boys spots, a ladies fetching sandals, baby mouth to mouth resuscitation and armpit hair. Next we talked about the multicloured straps for the spineboard, Fenwick took great delight in repeating the words “Multicoloured strap on”, across the room. The question then arose, “what do you do for really fat people on the spineboard” (*spineboard is a long plastic body board used to secure people with spinal injuries to), the vimto hair cool then came up with a theory. “fat people eat babies, think about it, the amount of missing children is going up, but so is the amount of fat people, thats where Maddie is you know”. I looked across at Becky who was taking notes, I questioned this and she replied with, “Yeah i’m taking notes, I should be a secretary…no, a councilor”, she then triumphantly bellows, “Argue my case forward”, shaking her fist. I ask her if she meant lawyer, she agreed that was the job she was trying to reenact. The boy at the back then said you could get high of bananas and that he had done it, he claimed you can dry them out “somehow” and smoke them. Becky then got a banana out of her bag and asked me, “can you smell the highness?”. We then got into the discussion about the “Walton Lot”, Becky claimed that people from Walton say yeahhhhhhh after everything, before saying, “So you like my mum yeahhhhhhh?” whilst stabbing an imaginary knife in the direction of my face. Vimto girl said that a Crysler Crossfire looked like a “Dog taking a shit”, Fenwick felt this description was harsh. We then had a break, I joined Fenwick and round headed chubby guy, a group of youths were talking shit a little way ago, Fenwick mutters, “Kids of today, Gobshites!” before flicking his fag, spitting a dense clump of salvia and walking back inside. I was just coming out of a cubicle as weak women stubbled past, it looked like death had just hit her over the back of the head. We then got on poolside, frail mess did an impression of being cold, now I know the description of a demented chicken is cliche, however that is literally what she looked like, as she vibrated the skin under chin would bounce and slap up against the underside of her head and her goggle eyes rolled into her skull. I looked at her now, clearly the shaking had somehow mad her look healthier, her face was now bright, white and round face is what I imagine the literal translation of what moonface from the faraway tree would look like. I left day 5 with profound lyrics of “rap” that Vicky had drummed in to my head, “Your a nasty dirty slut, I know you want this up your butt” and “Stroke my finger, stroke my thumb, I’m gonna fill your mouth with cum”.

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