Album Notes

THE DIVING BOARD

By RICK ANDERSEN


Joan snuck up behind me while I was standing on the diving board calculating wind direction and speed to determine the kind of dive I should execute. She was just gonna tickle me, she says.

"Give you a little encouragement."

I had to wonder about Joan's true motives. And her timing. "What's the rush? You don't want me to land in something you might later regret seeing me covered with, do you?

"See here?" I pointed at a pair of alligator eyes that were gliding through the water and fast approaching a little yellow duck that was watching two coupling dragon flies that were trying to fly in opposite directions and going nowhere.

"Look out dragon flies!" Joan screams, her mouth but a few inches from my right ear. My head begins to ring furiously, my eyes water, my nose bleed. Overwhelmed by nausea, I collapse and would've fallen off the diving board if Joan hadn't grabbed me.

"What happened?" I mumbled.

"An alligator ate the little yellow duck..." Joan said, tearfully. "It was awful..."

"Then why did you call out a warning to the dragon flies, and not to the duck?" I wanted to know.

"I didn't see the alligator! I thought you were pointing at the duck!" Joan had stopped crying, and there was an accusatory tone in her voice, as if I were somehow responsible for this tragedy.

"What are you doing up here, anyway?" Joan complained, as she turned and walked away.