We are at the water park and there is a bandaid in the lazy river. I am looking around to the rest of the waders to see what we should collectively do about this situation. One thing’s for sure: somewhere, there is an exposed, open wound, soaking in the chlorine, pruning around the edges. That disgusting wound and myself are connected through this water, which is full of dead skin cells already from all the nasty humans that have been soaking in here for god knows how long.
There is a chance that someone did this on purpose. Someone could have been bothered by their bandaid, didn’t want to get out of the water to throw it away, and just let it dangle and eventually peel off. They would pretend not to notice, and just swim away from it as casually as possible.
Perhaps there is some sick fuck that just shows up at water parks to release bandaids into the water. He would call the bandaids his little pets, whispering to them cynically as she released them. He might even go through the trouble of buying a steak at the grocery store to drip some blood on them before he releases his pretties into the water. But who would even think to do such a thing? I look carefully around the lazy river, assessing each face, and identify a few that seem capable of such a conception.
I have seen two people bob past the bandaid knowingly, scooching around it trying to avoid contact, but doing nothing to remove the bandaid, or to warn others of its presence. Not surprising, most people are trash. No one has even tried to remove the bandaid.
Some stupid kid screams “there’s a bandaid in the water!” Everyone feigns surprise.
©2020 by Shelsea Ochoa. All rights reserved.