"Can't believe this nonsense about non-smoking, outside even," James muttered to himself, his disdain evident in his voice, "Who's gonna stop me?"

Dressed in an impeccable charcoal gray pinstripe double-breasted suit with a contrasting collar, Our Hero, James, a conservative columnist and frequent TV pundit, oozed an air of arrogance. His gold watch and jewelry sparkled ostentatiously, drawing attention to his every move. The invite had advised Dress to Impress, a pointless suggestion for James, for which this was a constant whenever he left his house.

The occasion was the grand opening of a lavish new pool area, and the attendees were a mix of high-profile guests, media, and local influencers.

As the guests mingled and enjoyed the festivities, the aroma of various delicacies wafted through the air. But something else also hung there too: the acrid scent of James' cigar smoke. Ignoring the designated smoking areas, James selfishly puffed away on his cigar, the plumes of smoke mingling with the clear atmosphere.

Further, James had become more than a broken record, complaining to anyone within earshot about THESE SO-CALLED POLICIES of the resort, which prohibited smoking near the pool and in certain common areas.

His disregard for the rules didn't go unnoticed. Murmurs spread among the partygoers, many of whom cast disapproving glances in his direction, but as James' smoke continued to permeate the air and the annoyance grew, he remained blissfully unaware of the rising tensions.

Fate had a humorous twist in store.

Just as he was in the middle of another self-indulgent monologue about the decline of etiquette - "I'm just saying the class feeling just because some of us have made it while others haven't..." - a group of mischievous guests, fed up with his behavior, hatched a plan to put him in his place.

As he continued his tirade, he failed to notice the slow, gradual approach of a long, pool-skimming pole toward his suited mid-section.

"And if I want to chomp on a delicious stogie, I've earned that rite! And NO ANTI-SMOKING, SJW PC-police are GONNA STOP ME!"

Suddenly, a quick push propelled him backward, landing him ass-first with a resounding splash into the water below. His thrashing and cussing were priceless.The crowd erupted in laughter. The press, there to cover the event, captured every moment of his humiliation. James continued to sputter, his cigar extinguished and gone, as he struggled to regain his composure amidst the gales of mirth surrounding him.

Then during a lull of the guffaws, a lone voice could be heard to ring out,
"AND THAT'S WHAT YOU GET ASSHOLE!" which was quickly followed by a softer, more matter-of-fact, "Gotta love that instant karma. What a douche-noozle."

The once-impeccable suit was now drenched, clinging to him like a soggy reminder of his arrogance, and James's protests were drowned out by the relentless laughter and applause of the onlookers. He was no longer the party's center of attention; he had become its laughingstock, a JACKASS.

For days later, as images of his soaking wet figure circulated online, he became a NATIONAL EMBARRASSMENT, a lesson in the importance of respecting others and adhering to rules.

And long after the event, the tale of the formerly successful pundit, who refused to stop smoking at a pool party, and who was subsequently pushed into the pool, and who was never seen on Television again, became legendary, a caution that the smarmy can often find themselves drenched in the waters of their own conceit.