Towel

Every summer, my parents sent me to a daycamp.
Once a week, we’d go out to the local pool.
I’ve always hated swimming and water. I’d just stay on my towel, but now and then, the camp counselors would pick me up and throw me in the pool.
I’d try to run from them, but they always got me. Everybody ganged up on me.
I hated it.
One time, I forgot which towel was mine.
We had to wait until everybody got their towels.
Logically, mine was the last one.
Doesn’t matter. I wished they’d have hung themselves with it.

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