When first we met The Great White, I was attacked over and over again under water. I was trapped fully in his world with no escape, no possible hope of survival.
This chapter went on for months.
Recently, The Great White returned, but this time, we met on my terms. As he charged to and fro under the dock, my cousin and I lobbed and reeled a thick rope until it caught in his teeth and I pulled him in, holding him aloft with one massive arm.
Now, he has moved on to a more potent fare. No longer did he solely attack me, but my father. And he brought a friend.
We were in what appeared to be a shark tank in an aquarium when, out of no where, The Great White's partner slipped in behind my father, clenching his left leg in his powerful jaws and shaking him like a bottle of separated orange juice. I shot through the water and jammed a black bic pen into the assailant's eye. Blood oozed out, and yet the beast did not release my father. I withdrew the pen and jammed it into its gills. Finally, my father broke free, just in time to point over my shoulder, giving me barely enough time to roll out of the way of The Great White, coming in hot. His jaws were open wide, expectant, cocky even. I rolled toward my left shoulder and was bowled over, spinning to the right. We raced for the surface and escaped the watery hold. We told everyone around to get away from the edge and, better yet, get the hell out of the aquarium altogether.
One man jauntily walked up to me and said, "It doesn't look that bad."
I glared at him as though I could convince The Great White to hunt him instead with a mere look. "You have no idea."
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