Great book, and short
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I covered my head with vaseline. Thick. Not a shiny thin layer. Thick, so I seemed to shimmy underneath the stuff as if I was underwater down stream from a petroleum plant. I used the real stuff, not some off brand of petroleum jelly. The real stuff is thick and sticks to you no matter how much soap and water you use.
I took off my shirt and covered my body with the jelly. It took almost five big jars to cover my chest and back. I was able to cover my chest with no problem, I troweled it on in great big hunks. My back was another story. I spread out the hotel shower curtain and covered it 3 inches deep in vaseline and then lay down on it. It was cold, but it made me feel hot. When I stood most of the jelly stuck to my back. I hung the curtain back on the rod.
I took off my pants and started slathering the vaseline on my legs, my hips, my ass and my groin. My groin was a problem, I became distracted, but I just packed the jelly thicker there and started working on my shoes. I filled each shoe with three family size jars each. Then I slipped my feet into the shoes and squished to the door.
Outside the door I had a gallon of gasoline and I poured it over my head and lit the match.
He was standing near the diving board when I ran, burning, toward him, toward the pool. I was screaming, hoping to both attract attention and distract everyone from what was about to happen. I ran by him, jumped into the pool to quench the blaze and he fell in after me.
I swam to the shallow end and climbed up the steps and ran away screaming more. The fire was out but no one wanted to help a man who seemed to be shedding his skin in great slimey shreds.
He just lay in the water floating quietly, the water around him slowly turning blood red.
No one noticed that I stuck a pickle fork through his windpipe. No one noticed until they fished him out of the pool.
By then I was long gone. Through the bushes into the car and gone.
They closed the pool for a month. But I don't care. I don't even remember what town that was.