I'm currently life-guarding an empty pool, and thus I am confronted with doing menial tasks like taking phone messages and checking the membership cards of the elderly. While I sit here in the guard hut, I casually page through the STAFF COMMUNICATION LOG. Such a big name really doesn't do justice to the purple-backed spiral notebook, which seems to be full of things like, "...pool needs to be vacuumed...sit facing the pool...PM guards turn off the locker room heaters!" As you can see, this is extremely important information and all us guards do well to read it daily. It should also be obvious that I felt compelled to add my own moments of wisdom and reflection to this log, so without further ado I give you a peek inside the Greenmeadow STAFF COMMUNICATION LOG:

26 APR 05 LIKE horatio alger, i came west to this place in search of something magical...something terrifying. Anything this pool could offer would be an improvement over the oppressive state of heat and mexico that is mountain view. WAS i wrong to think my demons would leave me at the border?! foolish to pin my hopes of psychological peace on a little sunscreen and the acrid smell of chlorine and duckshit? and the lawn chairs on the concrete like groups of silly polish supermodels on ecstasy, lying around mocking authority...even decency. BUT as if by papal decry, pecan pie smiles at me from inside the cold tundra of the refrigerator. someone's fork, still crusted with pieces of a final bite before death, is a useless defense as i tear through the nutty goodness and run into the light once more...