Adventures with Sharks! – or – I Lack Common Sense (A Tall Tale)

This tale is inspired by the mundane. A chance encounter resulting in the finding of a shark’s tooth. But why shouldn’t the mundane be inspiration for the extraordinary? After all, one should never let the truth get in the way of a good story.

Personally, I find swimming exhilarating. I love how water flows around you while offering its support. Twisting, spinning, lying on your back, standing on your head, there’s almost nothing you can’t do. It’s the closest experience to flying without a machine a human can have. 

So there I was. Diving down, swooping up, spinning, and generally having a grand old time. The waves were long and slow. The water was clear. A perfect day to swim.

Well, almost. I mean, it was … but maybe not for me. 

Countless tiny fish flashed around me as I swam. I dove through the school watching them avoid me with astonishing agility. A few types of seabirds were feeding on the school, and I enjoyed the up close view of them diving into the water. Of course, there was that one Pelican who flopped down a little too close for comfort, but otherwise, it was a wonderful spectacle. 

Then some larger fish joined the party, and I got glimpses of them darting up to grab the small fish. It was a little like a nature documentary except more confusing, without dramatic music, and without David Attenborough’s narration. 

And then the sharks came. They were after the fish and excited to have such a large buffet in front of them. I don’t think they cared about the clumsy human at all. In fact, they took so little notice of me that one of them forgot to swim around and decided the best way to catch a fish was to go through me as if I wasn’t there.

It hurt. 

I don’t suppose I need to tell you that, but it really hurt. 

I’m bruised, scraped, and clearly need to leave. So, naturally, I lost my temper and went after the shark. Now, I, as a normal human, cannot outswim a shark, so nothing would have come of this if the fish, which this shark was chasing, hadn’t turned back towards me. I grabbed the shark as it came by (which hurt again), and punched it as hard as I could. Unfortunately, I have never sought to hone my underwater punching skills, so this had about the same effect as trying to blow out a house fire.

The shark seemed very surprised but not particularly concerned by being attacked (from its point of view) by a flailing lump. It momentarily lashed out before simply shaking me off and swimming away.

My good sense finally arrived on the scene, and I quickly made my way to shore. Once on shore, I examined my scrapes and bruises, and, to my surprise, found a gash in my shoulder. Embedded in one end of the gash was a shark’s tooth. 

I believe this was the shark’s way of saying, “FYI, don’t mess with us sharks.”