Cannonball

I’ll never forget it.  It was a perfect day in July, or it might have been August. Not a cloud in the sky, well probably, but who was looking – if you catch my drift.  I was over at the community swimming pool over in Peoria and, being a reg’lar guy and all, decided to impress the ladies with my patented Seymour Herschfeld cannonball.  They was just too busy spooning out their noodle casserole and what-not, and I figured they needed a distraction.  But no sooner did I jump that I realized, hey, I might a jumped in over my head.  A purple panic (it might have been blue) struck me, and you wouldn’t believe the terror when I opened my eyes and in all them bubbles I could see my life going by, kind of like the credits rolling after a pitcher when you’re too tired to get up and leave.  I hear talk about a peace that overtakes you in them kind of moments, until I realized, hey, I can swim, and straightened up real quick-like, and found myself standing on my own two, in the waist-deep part of the pool. I let out a sigh of relief the missus heard ten feet away.  She said, “If you want your share before it’s all gone, Seymour, get out of that pool.” Well, it was that close!  And like I always say, you can never be too careful.