Don't worry, he shaved his back.

Due to incliment weather read the notice, the swim meet is cancelled until further notice. Gary read the note on the door twice and scratched his head. The pool was indoors. The sun was shining. A few birds were circling in the air above his head. Circling. Circling. Lifting one fist and shaking it, Gary shouted out "I'm not dead yet, you vultures. You'll never get me!" Obviously the swim meet situation needed to be investigated.
With a heave, he pulled open the door. It got stuck halfway, but he persisted and pulled it fully open. Only then did he notice that the door was marked Push. Looking around nervously, he saw that he was alone, so putting his hands in his pockets (kind of - he was already dressed in his Speedo, ready to cheer on the swimmers), he whistled an uneasy tune and headed inside. Taking a pen he had on him (don't ask where cuz I'm not telling you), he went back to the door and wrote Out of order at the bottom of the notice. A quick glance at the vultures in the sky, and he disappeared inside.
The pool was down a short hallway, so Gary figured that it would be best to walk down said hallway. And he did. He opened to door to the pool only to be hit by a wall of wind. It pushed him back in to the hallway, messing up his carefully arranged coiffure. Taking a deep breath, Gary burst through the door, making it past the wind, nearly falling over when the wind stopped, though the light rain didn't let up. Looking around, it seemed that he had the pool to himself, but a small voice at his knee disabused him of that notion.
"Please sir," came the childlike tone, "he's gone mad, and we are all doomed unless you help us. Also, you're stepping on my tail."
Gary looked down, expecting to see some sort of talking cat, but was surprised to see nothing at all. "What's this?" he inquired incredulously. "Who's there?" There was no answer for a moment, which made Gary think he may have imagined it (even though he wasn't drunk yet)(...yet), but on a whim, he lifted his left leg. "Better?" he asked skeptically.
"No," came the hauntingly soft voice. "Try lifting your other foot."
Embarassed, Gary lifted his right leg and promptly fell down. Scrambling to his feet, he looked around again. "How come I can hear you, but I can't see you?"
"It's because I walk around the light," came the most reasonable reply that Gary could imagine. "But we must hurry. The lighthouse operator has perfected his controls, and now we must all suffer unless you put an end to his contemptible plans."
"Is he, um" Gary began, suddenly worried, "is he invisible like you?"
"Is there any other way to be invisible?"
This caught Gary off guard. Now that he thought of it, he wasn't sure. "I don't know. Maybe. What if you bend light? Is that possible, to bend it around yourself?"
"No, I do not think that such a thing can be accomplished."
"Ah." Gary pondered for a moment. "Well, I don't know how many different ways there are to be invisible. I'll get back to you on that." He turned for the door before pausing. "Oh, right. The saving you thing. Sorry." He turned to face the voice, nearly jumping out of his Speedo when it came from behind him.
"He is standing under the lifeguard tower, fully visible."
"Th-thanks," stammered Gary. He clutched at his chest for a moment, assuring himself that it was still beating properly. "I'll see what I can do." The rain ceased falling at this moment, though the fog made things a little hard to see.
Slowly he crept over to the lifeguard tower, peering underneath but seeing no one. Maybe the little guy was wrong, he thought to himself. Maybe he's invisible after all. "All right!" He began addressing the air beneath the tower, not wanting to look like he didn't know what was going on. "You need to stop this madness right now. People's live are at risk."
From across the pool a voice came to him. "Are you looking for me, lad?" He whirled around to see a man under the lifeguard tower at the other side of the pool. The man was wearing hip waders, a yellow raincoat and a top hat, and seemed to be fiddling with some dials.
Taking a risk, Gary ran around the pool and felt moderately pleased that he got away with it. He came and stood by the nattily dressed lighthouse operator. The man continued to play with the dials and knobs on the controller in front of him. Finally Gary spoke up. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked casually, taking careful stock of the man's height (really tall) and size (huge, but not fat) in case physical force became necessary.
The man seemed startled for a moment. He peered down his nose at Gary. "I'm trying to finish this, so if you don't mind, I need silence."
Gary shrugged. A bolt of lightening flashed across the ceiling, followed by a short snow storm. Another moment passed, maybe two, and then he spoke up again. "I really don't think this is a good idea," he commented. "You seem to be rearranging the local weather pattern."
Once again the man looked down at Gary. "Young sir," he said heavily, "I would ask that you refrain from such needless interruptions. If you persist with your interjections, then the device will never be ready. Now hush!"
A few more dials were twisted, a few more cold fronts moved through the building. Finally the man straightened up, an evil smile on his face. "At last," he said tearfully. "My life's work has paid off. Now they're all going to pay."
"What, are you mad at farmers?" Gary muttered, startled when the man turned and fixed his gaze on him. "I mean, is that why you invented a weather altering machine?"
Puzzled for a moment, the man smiled briefly when he realised Gary's confusion. "Ah," he said. "I see your confusion. No, this isn't a weather machine, it is a hat making machine. Those ship captains, with there smug smiles and fancy caps make me sick. 'You can't wear that hat, they're for captain's only,' 'oh, nice lighthouse keeper's hat, Duncan. You look like someone who couldn't be a captain'. Well, that's going to end now." He raised his fist to the air and gave it a mighty shake. "My name isn't even Duncan, you fools!"
Gary raised an eyebrow and looked at the roof. Two birds circled above his head. Circling. Circling. He had to admit, those were some persistent vultures.
"But the machine is not for creating weather. It's simply a by-product of the complex scientific machinations of my device." A waterspout passed through the deep end of the pool as the machine made a small gasping sound. A french beret popped out of the side onto a pile of spats, mats, baseball bats, and pats (Pat Buchanan sat eating a bagel with Patrick Swayze). "I just need to make one final adjustment and the captain's hat will be mine.
"Why," mused Gary, "did you choose the local swimming pool for your machine. We aren't even near a lighthouse."
"Aah, the machine is too delicate for the sea water. Moisture would ruin it. Plus, these lifeguard towers remind me of home. Put a revolving light on top and I could be very happy here."
"Well, would any water hurt your machine?" Gary asked innocently.
The lighthouse keeper looked at him suspiciously. "Yes. Why?"
"Oh no reason lookoverthere!" Gary pointed behind the lighthouse man, who ducked and whirled around.
"What. What do you see lad? Tell me."
Casually Gary pushed the machine in to the pool. "I thought I saw a ship about to fall into the rocks, but it must have been my imagination. Anyhoo, I have to go now." Quickly Gary walked away, ignoring the anguished wail that came behind him. By the time he reached the door, the weather inside the pool room had returned to normal (overcast with the occasional sunny period).
A few minutes later the police arrived and took the sobbing lighthouse keeper in to custody, severly beating him into submission because they were too smart to fall for his contrite surrender.
"There you go little Jimmy," said Gary mournfully. "I stopped him for you." Sadly, he walked away into the sunset (which was awkward because it was noon, but Gary was persistent), completely missing the quiet voice.
"My name isn't Jimmy...ah what's the use."