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Charlie and the Pool

As I am very mischievous, my discovery was quite unfortunate. To begin, I find it proper to apologize to my mate whose desire simply could not be fulfilled. I recall the night as if it were six days ago, and as a matter of fact, I believe it was eight. Charlie and I, Charlie is my mate, were feeling the effects of an unhealthy escapade of scrumptious delicacies. Many others refer to these delightful partakers as women. I am no sexist. If I were a sexist, which I am not, I would not purloin myself of my purple shirt, which, because I am quite attractive, would draw women as pheromone ecstasy. This action, especially once I am submerged in a local pool, which I happened to be, would make the women feel nice. Sexists deprive, they do not give. Regardless, as Charlie and I entered the pool I noticed a grin of reluctance on Charlie’s face. His nose twitched, slightly three times, and his eyes would not be still. I told him to relax, yet he looked at me and opened his mouth incredulously. Why do you look at me like this, I asked. What is it that you want? I have a history of less than sufficient hearing, and I believe he told me “I would like for you to place my head under the surface.” Because Charlie has been my mate for seventeen years, I did not question him. I thrust his head underneath the water and he flailed his arms playfully. Once he came up, he frowned and said “I would like to leave the pool.” I said that he could not. Nine minutes passed and my eyes were temporarily blinded by chlorine. As I looked around, the water near the diving board bubbled like a cauldron with no flame. Up arose a body, stiff and pale. I apologized to Charlie, my mate, for his desire simply could not be fulfilled. He wished to leave the pool, I believe, but he decided to stay. I am mischievous and quick to stir trouble, and since he was my mate for seventeen years, I did not argue. I just let him stay.



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