How I learned to "look before you leap"

Growing up, we loved visiting my Aunt Marg's house in Milton during the summer when we could use her swimming pool.  It wasn't just the pool we loved.  We loved under the pool as well.  Her backyard was on a hill, so the pool deck was level closest to the house, but you could walk around it and get under the deck.  This arrangement made for excellent hide and seek games, and provided a wealth of bugs and plants to find and examine.  In particular, there were always little yellow butter flowers that you held under your chin and your chin glowed yellow from their reflection, it meant you loved butter.  Spoiler!  If it was sunny out, everyone loved butter.  But at the time - gasp!  I DO love butter! 
The spider webs that we found under the pool were incredible and pristine, complete with fat spiders of all sizes munching on untold numbers of bugs.  There were so many snails that it was impossible to go barefoot under the pool as their shells would inadvertently crunch under your feet.  My favourite were what we called pill bugs; the little guys that would curl up into their shells like armadillos and roll around the margarine containers we put them in.  We were told mice lived under there as well, but were never able to confirm that rumour.

As my memory holds, it was a typical day during a typical summer and we were eager for a swim.  Part of the fun at my aunt's pool was the assortment of pool toys kept on her deck in a big wooden trunk.  There were all sorts of inflatable toys, boats, floaties, flippers, and snorkels.  My brother, sister and I would race to see who got the best gear for our aquatic escapades (re: dunking each other until someone cried and we were ordered out of the pool).

On this day day I opted for surprise-under-water-tactics and thus required the snorkeling set.   I rushed to shove my feet into the flippers, and the snorkel and mask set over my pony tail. I dove in ready to begin my assault.  As I ducked under the water I put the snorkel in my mouth and took a big breath.

And filled my lungs full of earwigs.

I came to the surface choking, gagging and gasping for air, but it was too late.  The earwigs of Aunt Marg's wooden pool toy trunk were now scrambing around deep in my lungs. 

To this day, every time I feel a sharp prick while breathing, I think of the pile of little earwig carcase shells that might still be there...cemented to the sides of my lungs with their horny little pointers jabbing my flesh.

But I always check the snorkel tubes now.