Peen slipped through a gate in the wire mesh fencing, between pink oleanders, and out onto the deck of the swimming pool. He stood proudly in the simmering heat of the summer sun. His splayed feet were shod in sandals. He wore a cabana shirt dotted with green sea turtles. Added to that were Bermuda shorts in a purplish plaid pattern hanging loosely. A straw hat with pompom dangles completed his sartorial splendor.
He slipped his sunglasses down his proboscis, his gaze drifting idly around the perimeter of the pool, then neatly tapped them back onto the bridge of his nose. He nodded agreeably and whispered, "Ay." He sauntered along the deck past a barbecue pit where dogs were grilling, nodded familiarly to the concessionaire with spatula raised and frozen. He sniffed the aromas with pleasure and approached an empty poolside lounge chair putting down his towel and gear.
Peen plopped down with a slight grunt, extracted a tube of sunscreen from his ditty bag, covered his substantial nose slowly and deliberately. When he completed this task he sighed, "Ay." He glanced around, nodded with satisfaction, then tossed a sour lemon ball into his mouth, and pursed his lips, humming as he sucked.
After a short consideration, he pronounced a decisive, "Ay." He doffed his sandals, wriggled his prehensile toes, leaned over to pick fuzz from between them with his fingers. Shifting nonchalantly out of the shirt and shorts, he left just a pair of Speedo swimming trunks covered in pink flamingoes. He arose, sucking on the lemon ball, and stretched his bent elbows back and forth. With finality, he tossed his straw hat onto the chair, spat out the ball, and strode to the diving board.
Mounting the board he scurried to the end of the board yodeling, "Ayyy," jumped up, and landed on both broad flat feet with a CLUNK followed by a SPROING.
He rose up just as a loud voice cried out, "Hey!" Peen, in the air, stretched his arms and legs out, starfish-like as both fingers and toes grasped at the air. He landed belly wise with a loud KERPLASH upon the surface of the glistening pool.
Peen could be seen through the clear chlorinated waters writhing underwater then drifting upward. His face emerged, hair splayed back from his visage, coughing and hacking. "Nay, nay," he whimpered and dog paddled to the pool ladder. He ascended, blew his nose, wiped it with thumb and forefinger. His potbelly glowed red.
Cries of "No," were heard. He shook himself, completely unconcerned by the fact that his Speedo appeared to be missing. A cursory glance would have told him it now resided at the bottom of the pool.
"Put some pants on, man! Are you a member of this club?" shouted authority.
Grinning, Peen shook his head, "Nay." He completed donning his clothes, finishing with his sandals. Flipping his hat onto his head he gathered belongings. Ignoring shouts of indignation he strolled away and out the gate.
