Florida Man Drowns in Fountain of Youth
Police Shut Down Archeological Attraction Pending Investigation
POOP — Proctologists Original Orgasmic Publication’s Exclusive Scond reliable source that Mr. Sy M. Oldman of Pensacola perished in Spanish explorer Ponce de Leon’s Fountain of Youth.
How this happened continues to baffle forensic experts.
They called in reinforcements from down in Miami. Even the vice squad went in, though rumor has it that’s because actors Edward James Olmos and Don Johnson wanted a piece of the rejuvenation action.
How one can fall into a spring and drown is the baffling conundrum that has authorities perplexed. How does one fall into the wee portal of bubbles and gurgles?
While Miami’s hotshot fabulous forensic four, Juan, Paulo, Jorge, and Bingo duke out the details, one theory keeps rising to the top like the proverbial cream in a jug of unpasteurized milk.
Trigger warning:
It’s a little on the woo-woo side but “bare” with us. We don’t make the news, we just report it.
It seems Mr. Oldman had a long-standing drinking problem well before his visit to the Ponce de Leon Fountain of Youth Archeological Park. He was the poster boy for if one is too many, a thousand is not enough. He simply did not know when to stop.
His body resorted to losing consciousness. That’s how he stopped imbibing most nights.
On this particular day, he was already pretty sauced when he arrived at the Ponce–known locally as The Ponz’ — Spring House. He waited till most of the visitors were gone, or in the restroom, and dipped his cup in the bubbles.
He took a sip and smiled.
The 30 plus minerals in the Florida Aquifer render these waters sweeter and lighter than most. But Sy might well have augmented his cuppa with a nippa firewater from his hip flask.
In any event–especially this one–he liked the taste and refilled his cup. After a few guzzles, nature called. He noticed his gray hair had turned to sleek, shiny black in the men’s room mirror. So he hauled his arse back out there for more guzzling.
After a few more slugs, docent Dew Telle, led her last tour of the day through the Spring House. When Sy noticed an erection, the first one in a decade, you better believe he started chugging. Which of course necessitated a few more trips to the men’s room.
Dew presumed the joint empty when she locked up.
Sy sighed with delight at having the whole place to himself. He chugged his way back through his long life. From his old old age to his middle old age to his young old age, without stopping there.
His kyphotic spine straightened out, his body hair darkened, and the muscles on his extremities buffed out. By the time he got back to his mid-life crisis, he was a very happy camper.
He could have crawled out the window Dew forgot to close and quit while he was ahead. But nooooo!
He was insatiable.
He drank back through his 50s, 40s, 30s and kept going. The Fab Four believe that it was his pubescent brain that undid him. Most teens want to grow up. If nothing else to be able to drink and drive, often, sadly, together.
But since Sy started driving at 14, and drinking at 11, this did not apply to him. He kept guzzling. By the time he got to be an infant, he did not need to sip. The backward aging process took on a life of its own.
Poor Oldman went from infant to fetus to embryo to zygote.
Somewhere between embryo and zygote, poor Sy fell into the springs bubble hole and drowned. Well–a deep subject–that’s theory number one. Theory number two is he devolved into the orgasm from whence he came and may still be alive as a sperm cell down in the bowels of the Aquifer.
Searching for His Better Half
Three out of the four forensics poo-pooed this theory to POOP, saying their colleague, Bingo, has been spending too much time on Facebook.
Mr. Oldman’s disappearance would have gone unnoticed except that his clothes and empty hip flask were discovered in the Spring House the next day. Police have cordoned off the area with yellow tape because that’s what they do.
After several days of careful microscopic searching, they’ve given up hope of retrieving the tiny comet from the depths. The spring is not hot enough to keep Sy alive in the condition he’s in.
In Related Stories…
Docent Telle was fired from her job for her negligees, oops, we mean her negligence. The police considered charging her with accidental manslaughter, but the County PA determined that while she may have been able to prevent the catastrophe, she did not cause it.
Park Director, Amos Ov Diggs, told POOP that once they reopen the Ponz’ Spring House, they will monitor it closely, limiting guests to three sips per day. But artesian commemorative bottles will continue to be available in the gift shop. After all, his salary has to get paid somehow.
When asked if he was worried that news of this mishap will scare tourists away, he smiled. “Nope. Reservations have shot through the roof!”
When our baffled reporter queried further, Diggs explained that in drug subcultures, when a junkie ODs, addicts go out of their way to score from that source. It’s considered good stuff. “Go figure, but hey, if it brings in el dinero, we’re all for it.
“‘Cause let’s face it, watching cannons being fired by frumpy guys dressed in 16th-century drag–that whole men in tights thing–in the sweltering Florida heat and humidity is not exactly a huge draw.”
And there you have it, folks. The straight POOP from Proctologists Original Orgasmic Publications. Remember, you heard it first, and probably last, from POOP.
A big POOPY thank you to Rowen Kayleigh for this primordial prompt!
Marilyn Flower writes humor to laugh the changes she wants to see and make. She’s the author of Creative Blogging: Ninja Writers Guide to Character Development and Bucket Listers, Get Your Brave On. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times. Stay in touch!