"When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer"
I had just finished receiving oral satisfaction from a girl of questionable morals. I was sat in my luxury apartment, eating a Cadbury's Drifter. All seemed perfect. I turned to my concubine and asked her what she thought of my opulent abode. She left the room to look up both "opulent" and "abode", she returned to give hear seal of approval, "Quality, innit?"
I detested her lack of intelligence. Her ignorance on almost all matters of substance sickened me. I was sickened. But she was young, malleable and tenacious in the bedroom, which is good because I liked to push the envelope of what was sexually acceptable, and she was quite willing to join me. Sorry, I forgot, my lawyers advised me to say that she was more than willing. That's more than willing to join me.
It's an odd feeling being in such a position of power at such a young age. In many ways I was still developing as a man, but I had already achieved more than men twice my age. I think it was this confusion over my position that lead to the incident that changed my life: I lost my leg (the good one).
On my twentieth birthday I received a large endowment from my trust fund. Once I had the money the first thing I wanted to do was to show my parents that I was my own man now. I wanted to make a statement. The first thing I did was to commission an artist to make a statue of me with an enormous erection, the statement being, "Holy shit! That's a huge erection" - In many ways it was a success. The second thing I did was to buy my own house with a large swimming pool. I figured that property is always a sound investment and it would show that I was sensible and mature, though in retrospect, the one mistake I made was filling the swimming pool with a great white shark. At the time I was like, "Yeah. It's a fucking great white shark", but my initial excitement suddenly turned to, "Jesus Christ! It's got my leg. Oh my God, my fucking leg!"
It's hard to explain to you how I lost my leg because, looking back, I did make some foolish mistakes. If given my time again I probably wouldn't put a great white shark in a domestic swimming pool. But if I did, I would definitely put a guard rail around the pool this time. And, when asked whether I want a clear perspex walkway to float across the water then I would say no, or at the very least I'd insist on slip mats this time. Who knew that clear, wet perspex could be so slippery?
So, here's how it happened. In a lot of ways it way just a normal Tuesday night. I had some friends over for a get-together. Tuesdays were my "Red Meat. Bare Feet. Margarita Party" - Me and several hundred friends would get together, eat beef carpaccio and drink margaritas without any shoes on. I had drunk a margarita or thirteen and I was doing the moonwalk on the perspex walkway above Leroy's pool (Leroy was the shark). My guests didn't seem so amused by this, so, ever the entertainer, I had a guest give me some carpaccio for me to dangle over the pool. I thought the sight of Leroy eating quality, raw beef out of my hand would be quite a sight and give my guests much enjoyment - Again, looking back this sounds very stupid. Anyway, I tried this for fifteen minutes or so but Leroy was having none of it. I threw the plate of carpaccio away.
Later in the night I stood, barefoot, on the broken plate that I had discarded earlier. I cut my foot pretty badly. One of my friends told me to dip my foot in the water to clean the cut. Having had several more margaritas and knowing nothing about sharks I decided to do so. I now know that a shark can smell one drop of blood in 25 gallons, needless to say, it had no problem detecting my gushing foot in a 50ft swimming pool. And that's how I lost my leg.
Not a day goes by that I don't think about that night, and the series of errors that lead to that horrific incident. All I know is that I learnt more in that one night that I had done in years at private school. I know that you have to be careful when barefoot around a swimming pool. I know that drinking fifteen or twenty margaritas near a swimming pool isn't a good idea. And most importantly, I now know that a shark is not a pet. The very next day I returned Leroy to the guy I bought him from. Actually, the guy had a strict returns policy on great white sharks so I just exchanged him for a white tiger. He's called Marbles. Luckily Marbles was impeccably trained by two Las Vegas magicians so he's completely safe to have around the house - I've learnt my lesson.
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