Chickenbones

No one could have ever anticipated the events of that Friday evening at the poolside, when the normally serene elderly man named Jed suddenly lost it and started tossing chikenbones at the children in the pool while laughing hysterically. No one had ever seen him laugh or smile before that or knew much about him, except that he often read quietly by the pool with his wife of many years named Nellie. She was as shocked as everyone else when he suddenly shouted as though he’d won the lottery and began picking the chicken bones from his customary Boston Market supper-to-go and firing them at unsuspecting children just before the whistle was about to blow for adult swim. Some of them retreived a bone to the double consternation of their parents (except the one father who yelled, “ATTABOY!”) and fired it back at Jed in his chair, which only seemed to amuse him all the more and increase his hysteria like pouring gas on already raging flames. The lifeguards weren’t exactly sure how to approach Jed as they converged on him and his poor wife, who was as mortified by this time as Jed was delerious in paroxysms of laughter. Nellie stood up and backed away from Jed taking her stand on the side of the lifeguards, who were reassured by the presence of the pool manager moving swiftly behind them. The lifeguards looked at one another to see who was going to speak first until the manager arrived and piped up, “You just can’t do that here, sir. There’s a time and place for everything.”