You finally finish readying the inflatable pool. Your wife looks on approvingly from the back porch along with your kids.
But you made one mistake: not carefully checking your surroundings--if you had, you might've seen me nearby the pool's outer perimeter, waiting patiently in my ghillie suit amongst the overgrown grass with my bowie knife.
I wait until you triumphantly turn off the air compresser, looking proudly at your creation. I pierce the side, and crawl away to the woods, water flooding your backyard while your pool shrivels like rotting fruit.
Your wife and kids look disgusted. You bow your head in shame. I have defeated you once again.
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