Well, given that Sixticton's second-best learning establishment recently nearly flooded I guess they'd be offering swimming lessons....
The swim instructor The children were lined up alongside the edge of the defile while the water splashed waves that lapped over their feet. Most of them were as pale as ghosts, and there were one or two whose faces were scrunched up in outright terror, moments away from bursting into tears. Their apprehension wasn't helped by Jason's outright refusal to untie himself from a solid outcropping of rock. He was wearing a Baywatch lifeguard costume and clutching a life-preserver as though it was the only thing keeping him alive. "Swimming," yelled the swim instructor over the crash of the white-water rapids that the defile had become, "is a necessary skill to learn! It may save your life! It may help you save others's lives! It will allow you to impress members of the oppo-... of your preferred gender. It will -- what?" The children shuffled and shivered while two WrongStart teachers descended on the swim instructor to discuss the finer points of what a person's sex was, what their gender was, how they could be different, and the correct application of the prefixes cis- and trans- so as not to cause offence. Finally they backed off to the safe area away from the water's edge. "Always use protection when swimming! Practice safe swimming!" yelled the instructor, having clearly given up on the psychosocial minefield of interpersonal affection. "Right, when I blow the whistle the first child in line jumps into the water. When I blow the whistle again, the next child jumps. And so on, until you're all in." The first shrill blast sounded, and with a look like a soldier of the Light Brigade charging the cannons, the child leapt. Ten minutes later the teachers huddled. "Where will they emerge?" asked Agatha. She was wringing her hands in a way that suggested she practiced. "They were supposed to swim to the other side and climb out," said the swimming instructor. "The instructions were clear." "I doubt a grown man could swim against that current," said Jason, still tied to the rock. "I'm not sure a hippo could swim against that current." "Why did you mention hippos specifically?" asked Agatha who was sensitive about her weight. "Look," said Emma. "As it stands, if the press find out about this we'll be described as having thrown twenty six-year-olds into a dangerous cateract and left them to drown. Whatever else, we have to get as many out as possible, and as un-dead as possible." "Alive as possible," said Jason. "We don't want undead. Zombie kids would be a nightmare to try and teach." "Malcolm goes dredge-fishing on the weekends," said Agatha. "We could borrow his nets...."
Inspired by Max being back in swimming lessons. He's actually sticking with it so far, despite a few fights to get him there, and is doing really well.
Greg - ah, that 'this is perfectly normal' tone you have for writing about generally horrifying things. It's hard not to laugh, even when you're writing about drowning six year olds. Let's call what you have a gift and move on, shall we? :D
2 comments:
Well, given that Sixticton's second-best learning establishment recently nearly flooded I guess they'd be offering swimming lessons....
The swim instructor
The children were lined up alongside the edge of the defile while the water splashed waves that lapped over their feet. Most of them were as pale as ghosts, and there were one or two whose faces were scrunched up in outright terror, moments away from bursting into tears. Their apprehension wasn't helped by Jason's outright refusal to untie himself from a solid outcropping of rock. He was wearing a Baywatch lifeguard costume and clutching a life-preserver as though it was the only thing keeping him alive.
"Swimming," yelled the swim instructor over the crash of the white-water rapids that the defile had become, "is a necessary skill to learn! It may save your life! It may help you save others's lives! It will allow you to impress members of the oppo-... of your preferred gender. It will -- what?"
The children shuffled and shivered while two WrongStart teachers descended on the swim instructor to discuss the finer points of what a person's sex was, what their gender was, how they could be different, and the correct application of the prefixes cis- and trans- so as not to cause offence. Finally they backed off to the safe area away from the water's edge.
"Always use protection when swimming! Practice safe swimming!" yelled the instructor, having clearly given up on the psychosocial minefield of interpersonal affection. "Right, when I blow the whistle the first child in line jumps into the water. When I blow the whistle again, the next child jumps. And so on, until you're all in."
The first shrill blast sounded, and with a look like a soldier of the Light Brigade charging the cannons, the child leapt.
Ten minutes later the teachers huddled.
"Where will they emerge?" asked Agatha. She was wringing her hands in a way that suggested she practiced.
"They were supposed to swim to the other side and climb out," said the swimming instructor. "The instructions were clear."
"I doubt a grown man could swim against that current," said Jason, still tied to the rock. "I'm not sure a hippo could swim against that current."
"Why did you mention hippos specifically?" asked Agatha who was sensitive about her weight.
"Look," said Emma. "As it stands, if the press find out about this we'll be described as having thrown twenty six-year-olds into a dangerous cateract and left them to drown. Whatever else, we have to get as many out as possible, and as un-dead as possible."
"Alive as possible," said Jason. "We don't want undead. Zombie kids would be a nightmare to try and teach."
"Malcolm goes dredge-fishing on the weekends," said Agatha. "We could borrow his nets...."
Inspired by Max being back in swimming lessons. He's actually sticking with it so far, despite a few fights to get him there, and is doing really well.
Greg - ah, that 'this is perfectly normal' tone you have for writing about generally horrifying things. It's hard not to laugh, even when you're writing about drowning six year olds. Let's call what you have a gift and move on, shall we? :D
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