WalterFootball and the Case of the Kidnapped Granddaughter
I've discussed my trips to Tampa and the Jersey Shore recently. However, in doing so, I've neglected to mention what's been going on in my area. I wrote this Jerks entry several months ago, but I'm publishing it now that my summer series are over.
Everyone hates the rain, but I despise it more than anyone else. Back when I was a Penn State student eons ago, I used to skip all of my classes if there happened to be any sort of precipitation. Some of my creative friends used to call me the "Wicked Witch of the West Halls," as they joked that I would melt in the rain. I laughed along, knowing that this was actually true. I would have transformed into a puddle of goo had I gone outside on those icky days.
I'm now an old, fat man, which means I detest the rain even more. I even bought an elliptical recently (with an Internet connection so that I could make it tax-deductible; more on this in a future entry) just so I wouldn't have to go to the gym if there's bad weather.
It happened to be pouring all day on a Tuesday in mid-June (I wrote this then, but I'm posting this now). I planned to stay in the whole time - meaning I'd exercise on the elliptical and then order food (my usual chicken parm grinder and cheese fries) from the local Italian place - but my friends Man-Eaters, the Reverend and Body Burner told me that they were going to my local Saladworks that evening. I wanted to hang out with them, so I decided to brave the elements and drive to the gym in the rain.
Getting to the gym proved to be disastrous. There was a guy who was actually going the speed limit on a 25-mph, single-lane road. I also couldn't find a parking spot because the selfish a**hole members didn't save a spot for me. I had to park way in the back and walk like 90 seconds to the front entrance. I didn't melt, to my surprise, but I nearly collapsed out of shear misery.
Fortunately, the events at the gym made me forget all about my endless trek through the parking lot. It was an evening packed with hot chicks, dumb jerks and a mysterious kidnapping that'll have you on the edge of your seat.
I changed into my swim trunks and walked onto the pool deck. I scanned the pool for an open lane, but every lane was full. Thanks to Smelly Swim Coach monopolizing a third of the pool, every lane had at least two swimmers in it, including Lane 5, where a Russian man in his 40s and a 9-year-old girl were playing some sort of weird game of footsy. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
I was pretty miffed for a few seconds. How dare these selfish a**holes not save me a lane? I mean, they probably figured that I wasn't coming because of the rain, but they still should have left an open spot for me. However, I quickly realized that this meant I had an excuse to swim in the therapy pool again.
Doing laps in the therapy pool is usually a pain in the a** because I'm at the other end after just seven strokes (as opposed to 16 or so in the regular-sized pool). However, there were two female lifeguards - Hot Blonde Lifeguard and Well-Endowed Lifeguard - giving swim lessons in the therapy pool that evening, so being in there gave me an excuse to constantly ogle them.
I gleefully skipped over to the therapy pool, where a male lifeguard was overseeing everything. I feigned frustration.
Me: Oh, this sucks! I can't go into the regular pool because it's sooooo packed!
Male Lifeguard: I don't know what to tell you.
Me: Ohhhh man, I guess I'll just have to go in here then.
Male Lifeguard: OK, I'll let you know if a spot opens up.
I prayed a spot wouldn't open up for a while as I hopped into the therapy pool. Feeling the 88-degree water was pretty awesome - obviously much more pleasurable than freezing to death in the 82-degree regular pool. I beamed as I looked at both chick lifeguards. They both had disgusted expressions on their faces (**), but I didn't care because I was about to have the ultimate swimming experience.
(**) I could see why Hot Blonde Lifeguard didn't want to see me at all, given that she thought I was stalking her when I saw her at Saladworks earlier in June, but I don't know what I did to Well-Endowed Lifeguard. Perhaps Hot Blonde Lifeguard told Well-Endowed Lifeguard what I apparently did, which is complete bulls*** since I did not stalk her. One of my goals in life is to be stalked by a hot chick; not the other way around.
I swam about 34 laps when I was rudely interrupted by the male lifeguard, who alerted me that a spot had finally opened up in the regular pool. He looked like he was expecting me to get out, but I stood my ground. I made a quick list in my head of the pros and cons of moving to the regular pool:
I'd be able to get in a good workout.
I wouldn't have to worry about crashing into dumb little kids.
I wouldn't be able to creepily stare at Hot Blonde Lifeguard.
I wouldn't be able to creepily stare at Well-Endowed Lifeguard.
I'd likely catch pneumonia going from 88- to 82-degree water.
The pervert man and 9-year-old girl might still be there.
I wouldn't be able to creepily stare at Hot Blonde Lifeguard and Well-Endowed Lifeguard at the same time.
I realized that it might be weird of me to stay there when I could just swim in the regular pool, so I just pretended like I was deciding what I was going to do. I rubbed the stubble on my chin and feigned being in deep thought. I even heard Well-Endowed Lifeguard say to Hot Blonde Lifeguard, "He's so indecisive!" There's a chance they may have been talking about one of the kids they were teaching, but I'd like to think they were discussing me because that would mean they were intrigued with what I was doing.
My decision became a no-brainer when this unbelievably beautiful woman walked to the therapy pool. She had blond hair, a cute face and super-long legs. She had a little girl with her, but perhaps it was her little sister, or something. If it was her daughter, maybe she'd leave her in the pool for a while to take advantage of me in the closet. Hey, it can happen. I saw it on the Office finale when Ryan abandoned his son Drake to run away with the annoying Native American chick.
I suddenly was in complete paradise. I was swimming in warm water and had attractive girls to the left and right of me. Life couldn't get any better. And that is exactly why I should have expected to run into a barrage of jerks who would piss me off.
Hot Blonde Lifeguard, Well-Endowed Lifeguard, Girl with Long Legs... I was completely overwhelmed. There were too many things to look at. I was tilting my head every which way that I completely forgot to look forward. And that's when - BAM! I crashed into a little kid.
A) move directly into his path, causing a collision.
B) poop and pee everywhere.
C) stay out of his f***ing way.
If you guessed "C," you are intelligent. Little kids don't know how to do "C" because their responses are "A" and "B." Oh, and to make matters worse, I angrily yelled, "What the hell?!" prompting him to cry. This drew angry looks from the parents sitting on the benches on the side of the pool. Oh, I'm just doing my workout and looking at hot chicks, and then little douche collides into me, and I'm the bad guy? How is that remotely fair?
There were other dumb moments involving little kids. I took a break after a sprint and listened to Hot Blonde Lifeguard, who held a giant, orange hoop in her hands.
Hot Blonde Lifeguard: This is a ring of fire that you guys have to dive through!
Dumb Kid: BUT THERE'S NO FIRE ON THE RING!!!
Hot Blonde Lifeguard: Pretend there's fire!
Dumb Kid: NO, I WANT REAL FIRE!!!
OK, a**hole, not only do you want to somehow have a ring of fire in the pool, but you also want to put you and your friends' lives in danger by diving through flames. Oh, and Hot Blonde Lifeguard is still somehow supposed to hold this ignited object, just so you can have your "real fire." I wish we could imprison people on the probability that they'll commit crimes in the future because this psychopath is going to be a legit pyromaniac in the future.
It was suddenly 7 p.m. and all of the swim lessons in the therapy pool were done. Both the Hot Blonde Lifeguard and the Well-Endowed Lifeguard went to the regular pool. Girl with Long Legs was nowhere to be seen. As you may imagine, I suddenly lost interest in completing my workout. I still had about an eighth of a mile to go, but there was no reason for me to finish.
I walked out of the pool and went to retrieve my bag when a man in his late 60s blocked my path. I thought he was going to berate me for cursing at the little kid or leering at all of the girls, but that was hardly the case.
Old Man: Did you get a good workout in?
Me: I guess...
Old Man: You are an amazing swimmer! How do you move so quickly like that!?
I was happy that the old man complimented me like that, but our conversation quickly became boring. It somehow went from discussing Olympic swimming to NASCAR. I was bored out of my mind because I don't give a damn about auto racing, and I was also aggravated because I wanted to talk to Hot Blonde Lifeguard about Saladworks - just to see if she actually thought I was a creeper. This guy wouldn't let me go, unfortunately, so I was stuck talking to him for about 10 minutes.
I was saved when he looked around and said, "Where's my granddaughter?" I took this opportunity to duck out of there and head to the locker room.
I normally would have gotten rinsed off and then changed, but there was no water pressure in the showers. I figured that going to the locker rooms on the other side of the building would be the best option. I did so by cutting through the pool deck, but I bumped into the old man again, unfortunately. I thought he was going to accost me with some more NASCAR discussion, but he asked me if I had seen his granddaughter. In the men's locker room? I sure as hell hope not.
Sure enough, I bumped into Hot Blonde Lifeguard. She was standing on the side of the pool because the little girl she was teaching was in the water. This was my chance to clear the air.
Me: Hey, I'll see ya. Maybe at Saladworks again!
Hot Blonde Lifeguard: Oh, yeah. That was weird.
Me: I go in there all the time, actually.
Hot Blonde Lifeguard: Oh, do you?
Me: Yeah, they all know my name and what I get every time.
Hot Blonde Lifeguard: I'm sure.
Me: I either get the Chicken Caesar Salad, or the Buffalo Blue, only I substitute the...
Hot Blonde Lifeguard: That's pretty interesting.
Me: buffalo chicken with barbeque chicken and I also...
Hot Blonde Lifeguard: Oh, cool.
This conversation didn't last much longer, but two things were clear: 1) She did not suspect that I was stalking her. 2) She was super into me and was giving me short answers to throw off suspicion that she was stalking me. I'm not completely sure of this, but I'm about 95-percent confident that she'd "randomly" bump into me at Saladworks again.
I reached the other locker room about 30 seconds later, but going in there proved to be a mistake. I rinsed off and was putting clothes on when this tall, muscular, completely naked man approached the TV. ESPN's NFL Live was being shown, but he changed the channel to Tour de France coverage. He then stared at the bicyclists on TV and sighed, "ahhh..." and "ooohhh..." I actually thought he'd begin to touch himself, so I accelerated the changing process.
I bolted out of there as quickly as possible and nearly bumped into someone again. This wasn't a stupid, little kid, however. This was a grown man who looked completely disheveled. He was wearing a white shirt with yellow stains on it and boasted unkempt black hair that was probably covered in lice. He had a completely perplexed expression on his face. Upon nearly crashing into me, he turned around and actually ran the other way. I was so incredibly confused.
I made my way out of the gym, but not before meeting the old man a third time. He looked way more concerned than before. He asked again, "Have you seen my granddaughter?" In the other men's locker room, with the heterosexually challenged Tour de France fan? I sure as hell hope not.
So, what happened to the little girl? Believe it or not, but the authorities actually apprehended the aforementioned disheveled man in the parking lot after finding the little girl in his car. There was a long standoff between the dirty man and the cops, which I imagine went something like this:
Cop: Put your hands where I can see them!
Disheveled Man: But I can't get this ketchup packet open!
Cop: Sir, put the ketchup packet down now!
Disheveled Man: Wait, wait, I'm gonna get it, I got it op... ah, crap, now there's a red stain on my shirt too!
Cop: Sir, step away from the ketchup packet!
Disheveled Man: Hey, stop bothering me, or I'll smother you with my lice!
The cops somehow handcuffed him and returned the little girl to her grandfather. He would ultimately bore her with more NASCAR talk, but at least she was safe from his condiment packets and lice.
That's how it could have happened...
...How about this?
The authorities knocked on Tour de France Perv's door later that evening. They then yelled for him to open up. There was no response, so they knocked down the door. They found Tour de France Perv naked on his couch, touching himself as French bicyclists were shown on TV.
Cop: Where's the little girl, sicko!?
Tour de France Perv: Sacre bleu, you cannot arrest me vizout zee varrant!
Cop: Tell me where she is now, or we'll slice your penis off so you can't touch yourself anymore!
Tour de France Perv: Mais non, I need my pee-pee vhen I vatch Tour de France, haw, haw, haw!
Tour de France Perv informed the officer that the little girl was tied up in the guest bedroom. She apparently was being held as a hostage so that Tour de France Perv could lure her grandfather into his cult. Each Wednesday, he and his cult members watch French bicyclists on TV as they touch each other, and he thought the grandfather would make a fine addition to this organization.
Fortunately, that never happened because Tour de France Perv was arrested. He was taken to prison, where he was sexually assaulted in the showers. He thought about the French bicyclists as this was happening.
But here's what really happened...
Well-Endowed Lifeguard and Hot Blonde Lifeguard teamed up to kidnap the little girl. The former distracted the grandfather with her large boobies, allowing the latter to sneak away with the child.
"You're going to be my spy when I try to stalk that WalterFootball guy," she said gleefully.
She was so happy and proud of herself that she didn't see the mustard packet on the ground. She slipped and fell into the pool, allowing Disheveled Man to steal the little girl from her.
Granddaughter: I want my mommy!
Disheveled Man: I want my mommy too so she can clean the lice out of my hair, but I buried her in my backyard. Now, you'll be my new mommy so you can open these condiment packets for me, hee hee hee haa haa haa!
Disheveled Man suddenly smelled an odd odor. Then, he was wet. Before he realized it, someone was washing him.
"Haw, haw, haw, I no can vatch zee Tour de France viz zis foul smell," Tour de France Perv snorted.
The soap bubbles engulfed Disheveled Man, who disappeared like the bacteria in the cleaning commercials. The little girl was now Tour de France Perv's - but only for a few seconds. Tour de France Perv never saw it coming, but Girl with Long Legs knocked him out with a wooden plank.
Granddaughter: Where's my mommy?
Girl with Long Legs: I'm your new mommy. I will take you to swimming pools across the country, and they'll never suspect a thing because I'm so hot!
Girl with Long Legs walked out with the granddaughter, holding her hand. They were in the parking lot when she felt the granddaughter's hand grow larger by the second. Soon enough, it was larger than hers - and much manlier. She looked at the granddaughter, but her kidnapping victim was no longer a little girl. It was a fat man who just completed seven-eighths of a mile.
Girl with Long Legs: You! You're the granddaughter!
Me: Hell of a plot twist, huh? Wanna bang?
Before she could say yes, the male lifeguard approached us.
Male Lifeguard: Hey, I need to ask you, why didn't you move into the regular pool?
Me: With all of the hot girls there? Are you crazy? That sort of question makes me think that you're gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Male Lifeguard: Gay? No, no, I'm not gay, I swear!
Me: Yeah, sure, sure. See, this is why I involved everyone in this fictional kidnapped granddaughter story - so I could sleep with the hottest woman at the pool. I wouldn't expect a heterosexually challenged man to understand this.
Suddenly, dozens of police cars surrounded us. In an even crazier plot twist, Male Lifeguard flashed his badge. It said "Police Chief" on it.
Male Lifeguard: You have the right to remain silent! I caught you red-handed!
Me: BUT I DIDN'T DO IT, SHE DID IT!
Girl with Long Legs: I DIDN'T DO IT! THEY DID IT!
Concussed Tour de France Perv: MAIS NON, I NO DO ZIS!
Respawned Disheveled Man: IT WASN'T ME EITHER! HEY, WHERE'D MY EXTRA MUSTARD PACKET GO?
Wet Hot Blonde Lifeguard: EVERYONE'S GUILTY EXCEPT ME!
Well-Endowed Lifeguard: I COULDN'T HAVE DONE ANYTHING BECAUSE I HAVE SUCH BIG BOOBS!
The cops pointed their guns every which way in complete confusion. Someone finally spoke up.
Random Cop: Chief, who done it?
Male Lifeguard: They all did it! But if you want to know who found the "granddaughter," it was me, in the parking lot, with my great detective skills.
Random Cop: Good job, Chief!
Male Lifeguard: Thanks. Now, take them away. I'm gonna go home and sleep with my wife.