poop, guns and a whole lotta ranch

You know what? I'm just going to dive right on in here.
A kid pooped in the pool.
Yes.
Poop. In the pool.

It was a scorching hot summer camp afternoon and i was sitting high and dry in the lifeguard chair watching all the kids break all the rules we just went over. Ah to be young and ignorant. Next thing i know, Dawn is screaming, shrilling more like it.

'GET OUT! GET OUT!'

Thirty something dripping wet miniature bodies start hurling out screaming, frantic, fearing for their lives.

'POO! THERE'S POO IN THE POOL!' Dawn declares

Everyone was screaming. Finally, after everyone was shuffled from the life threatening poo and back up the hill did one of the campers fessed up. Having previously been given a time-out for throwing a rock at another campers head for no apparent reason, said camper decided to give a little pay back, primative style. Little bitch.

Post camp, Derby and I ventured down to San Diego, her new home and upon return I was meant to stay the night at Dawns house. All in all, it go to be about 2 in the morning with me standing in camps car park after sitting in a hotel lobby getting hit on by creepy yet charming old fellas and a 40 minute vacant hotel search in a cab with it's meter running. Ouch.
Standing in the car park deciding whether or not the owner will take pity on me (she lives on site) and not beat up up for coming a-knocking at God forsaken hours. Bugger it. Knocked on the door to nothing except dog barks. Shit, this means i've got to curl up in a ball under a tree for the night (for those unaware Northern Cali is super cold at night).
While making my choice out a few potential tree trunks i hear the unmistakable sounds of rubber on gravel. I poke my head out from behind the trailer i had strategically masked myself from sex predators.

'WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?'

An elderly man stood with a massive shot gun, barrel down right at me.

'WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?'

This would of been a tad more intimidating if the man had more on than his tightie whities and a singlet on.

Turns out is was the owners pa, who lives just up the hill and whilst i was apparently 'banging away' the owner was lying down in her bathtub, handgun at the ready, shitting her pants.

Luckily, she burst out laughing when finding out the serial killer was me, then pa started laughing, so i joined in.

And yes, i did sleep on her couch. Best sleep i'ld had in a long time.