by Robert Mayhem

Created on: July 07, 2009

For many people, there is nothing better in the world than a summer at Myrtle Beach. Hot sun and giant waves during the day, hot women and giant parties at night. That's what the place is known for. For Brad, all of this was completely new to him.

This was his first summer at Myrtle and he'd landed himself maybe the best job possible. His friend Sandy, a veteran lifeguard, convinced her boss to let Brad take the stand next to her.

"It's not all fun and games," she had told him. "You're going to have to do a couple weeks of training if you want the job."

Brad did not mind this one bit. Eight to ten-thirty in the morning, Monday through Friday, was very manageable. Plus, the women in his class were very easy on the eyes. Especially when they were gliding through the water in their little bikinis.

Other than the opposite sex, this training class was separated into four important sections: CPR, spinal injury management, and retrieving dummies from the bottom of a pool. But, the most important part was swimming.

Some people were made for basketball, some for golf, and some for swimming. Brad was definitely made for swimming. His shoulders bulged and his back was completely ripped. If Arnold Schwarzenegger had been a swimmer, Brad would be a spitting image of him.

Brad had the stereotypical lifeguard look. His tan made him almost black and his blonde hair looked bleached. Going against his mother's wishes, he filled his back with permanent artwork. Dragons crawled up under his arms, spitting their fire onto his shoulders. The words Tantum deus sentio mihi were written across the center of his back. This Latin phrase translates, "Only God can judge me." The words had absolutely no meaning to him in the slightest bit because he was not religious. But, it definitely looked cool.

"Hey Sandy, you bored yet?" Brad spoke into the lifeguard radio.

"You can come rub some sun screen on my shoulders for me," she replied jokingly.

"I'm good."

"Then stop complaining."

It had been three weeks of sitting under the lifeguard umbrella in the hot sun, and the most action Brad had seen was a jelly fish sting on a little boy's big toe. The kid cried like a girl, but there was no need to jump in the water to save him.

Brad pulled the Motorola cell phone out of his pocket to check the time. It read one thirty-two.

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