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Sorry I’m Late to Your Pool Party

My word — it’s a pretty colour!

Pool Image by Lisa Runnels from Pixabay — Christopher Robin Dives In, drawn by Raine Lore

I was running late! Everything had conspired to work against me. I’d lost Christopher Robin’s address; I couldn’t find my swimmers — where the hell was my beach bag?

My girls were already there, lounging around like beached whales at Bondi, when I burst through Songstories’ Humor wall, ready to join the fun.

CR was propping up his makeshift bar in the corner, looking pale and thin, in his over-tight black budgie smugglers. He clutched a high-sugar-content soda in his hand.

“Jesus, Raine!” Kristen looked appalled. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Offended, I ran a mental check-list — black onesie swimsuit, once owned by my mother in the 1920s, a bathing cap with a very large, yellow, plastic flower stuck to the front, and flippers with the flippy part cut off. A large striped bath towel was draped nonchalantly over my right shoulder.

Krystal was trying her best not to look me in the eye. “Are those swimmers made from wool?”


“So?” I snapped.

“They have moth holes!”

I shrugged.

(Now and then, I’ll throw in a relevant video link to keep CR happy).

Girls in Bikinis — Poppy

“What the hell’s on your feet?” Kristen demanded. “Did you cut away the front of some flippers?”

“Of course, and it’s Krystal’s fault. She said the pool party was beside a wading pool, but Christopher has a perfectly normal pool here. Flippers wouldn’t fit in a kiddy pool.” I added by way of explanation.

“Why wear anything on your feet at all?” demanded Ms Snooty Stark, turning her not so attractive side to catch a few more rays.

“Because pools are rife with bacteria and viruses. I don’t want to get a verruca on my soles!”

“What the hell are ver..whatsits? Kristen turned over to baste a bit more of her third-degree-burned flesh.

“Warts,” I explained. “Black hair sprouts from the one on my nose. I have trouble enough, thank you.”

More Than Warts — An HPV Vaccine Anthem

Changing the subject, I asked, “Where is that bloody awful noise coming from? Who chose the playlist?”

“Christopher!” the girls announced in unison. “It’s music to gouge out your eyeballs by.”

“Turn it off!” I demanded, yelling at the insipid creature, clinging to his drink as if it were a lifesaver.

“Can’t,” he shrugged. “This is Songstories, you know!”

Can’t Stop the Music — Village People

“I’m going for a swim — my skin hurts,” moaned the whipper-snapper.

“Word of warning”, I whispered. “CR probably put a pilly thing in the water to stain the water red when you pee in the pool!”

“I’m not peeing in any pool,” huffed Kristen, as she slipped like a barbequed seal into the cool waters, cocktail clutched in hand.

I was busting for a tinkle, so I slipped in beside her.

Sure enough, the water turned bright red immediately.

Before Kristen could say a word, I shouted, “Oh, you poor girl, you’ve had a lady accident! Better hop out and wrap a towel around you.” I grinned triumphantly.

The others were looking at Kristen with a mixture of shock and sympathy as she stuttered and stumbled, trying to pin the blame on me.

“Won’t work,” I whispered. “Everyone knows that old bags don’t bleed!”

Only Women Bleed — Alice Cooper

Christopher’s pool was completely drained of its pretty coloured water — the three of us lay back in an alcohol haze watching the glorious sunset.

“You know,” I mentioned off-handedly, “I think it would be a good idea to invite Hollie Petit, Ph.D. to come along to a party, now and again.”

“What the hell for?” snapped Kristen in her best snarky manner.

“Don’t know about that,” added Krystal. “She has her own publication, you know!”

“I know,” I replied, “but, having her along would be good for our image.”

“How in hell ..?” grumbled Kirsten.

“Well, she’s a lot posher than us. Her presence might make people take us more seriously.”

The other two were silent for so long, I thought they’d joined Christopher in his goody-two-shoes, sugar-induced coma.

“I guess, it couldn’t hurt to smarten up our public personas,” agreed Krystal, breaking the silence, and scaring the hell out of me.

“I’ll fuckin’ go along with it,” muttered Kristen, “but my public image is just fine,”.

I laughed, spurting gin through my nose. “Your language could do with some finessing, Kristen — just saying!

I Love This Bar — Toby Keith



The songs we listen to change us. They shape how we feel and what we do. Let’s share stories of how songs shape our world. Let’s share the experience.

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Raine Lore

Independent author on Amazon, reader, graphic artist and photographer. Dabbling in illustration and animation.