Pool_1

there were no swimmers in this community. All those lithe athletic bodies that performed so many sports so well, simply lacked body fat. They sunk like rocks. Even Franklin-Roosevelt Aver, the sports legend he was, the swimming director he was, the law of this facility, the axis on which this universe spun - couldn't swim a stroke. Each guard in turn, in the evening, in secret, tried his hand at teaching this Zeus to be Neptune. It never worked. Frank was power, not buoyancy. Innate physical skill, dedication, and winning attitude were no substitute for specific gravity. Marcus suggested, "You know Frank, we could, maybe, fill this place with salt water?" Frank laughed, wiping his face, "Try maybe Jell-O. You float like a cork. Look at you. What's the deal?" Floating as if lying on his back on a hammock, Marcus revealed, "Hollow head. Nothing in here. Complete vacuum. The key is an empty head and foam filled feet. Think foam, Frank, think foam." Frank leaned back to try thinking foam, "Foam my asargle gak, psssthoo. Shit." spitting water, "This ain't working." "Frank, you know that shot put record, of yours? Still stands, right?" "Yup." "Know all those guys you crushed on the football field? All those trophies?" "Not gonna make me float." "No. I float. You gloat. Close enough. One letter away." "Good. I like that." "Any way, I hear you're a formidable force with a coal shovel." "Who told you about that?"