Upon entering the backyard I was mildly surprised to see no pool, but only a shed and a patch of grass. The back of the house had a sliding glass door on the bottom level, and outdoor spiral stairs leading up to the second floor and its reinforced deck, and then up to the roof. It was cute. A compact square that rose three levels. I had a feeling, so I stepped back to examine more of the deck. And there it was, a hot tub. I briefly hoped that whatever elderly buffoon was supporting this chick didn’t have sensitive skin. It was my intention to turn their jacuzzi into a liquid bleaching chamber. I trudged up the stairs with the bucket and got to looking around. It was a beautiful spring day. I opened the back panel of the hot tub so as to reinforce the image of my expertise, then dumped, I don’t know, six? Seven scoops of chlorine powder? I can’t remember exactly because as I was finishing up, the door to the deck flew open. I jumped back in surprise and saw an excessively tanned, short young woman with thigh tattoos and a pink extension in her almost-black hair. Oh yeah, and her face was also quite busted up.
Nick Denardi 