Seriously, screw creating your own characters and stories.
Comments Off | Posted: June 10th, 2008 | Filed under: Uncategorized
PART ONE:
Enter The Shark (OR: Pretty Girls Make Graves)
Frank Silva had been working his beat for a long time. Longer than he cared to admit; forty-one long years. He’d taken over the position of harbormaster from his father, Albus Silva, who’d taken over the position of harbormaster from his father, Baracus Silva. The Silva family had, in defiance of the town charter, maintained control over the harbor, and for good reason. They knew there was more to Amity Island’s waters than anyone wanted to admit. They knew that there had to be someone willing to help those who protected the island and its people. Harbormaster was not a position to be taken lightly, and Frank and his forefathers took it very seriously indeed.
Frank had just put the telephone down in its cradle (you know, where the phone handset goes) after calling his wife Minerva and letting her know he’d arrived safely and was down to his usual breakfast of Rice Krispies in that rickety shack he called an office for 9 hours a day when a clamor from outside rose up. Sheriff Martin Brody stormed in, slammed the door behind him, and dropped himself into the chair opposite Frank’s desk. Frank eyed him and he stabbed a spoonful of the cereal into his mouth.
“Well, Frank, aren’t you going to ask?” Brody asked Frank. Frank swallowed the cereal.
Frank paused. Looked at Brody. Brody was a lean, handsome, man, but not too handsome. He looked like one of your dad’s fishing buddies.
“OK, Sheriff Brody. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Christine Worthington. We just found her body washed up on the beach. Shark attack. Vicious one.”
Frank nodded and said “Pretty girl. Saw her messing around with that Cassidy boy on the ferry.”
Frank stood up and went to the cupboard and pulled out a box of Twining’s tea. “Would you like a cuppa, Sherriff? Always helps me think. That and my pipe.” Frank held up his pipe.
“No, thanks, Frank. I just…I had to get away from those people out there for a couple minutes. I have to get the beach closed signs out there. We can’t have a panic on our hands.”
“The mayor’s not going to like that, Sherriff”
“The mayor’s not very fond of me anyway, Frank”
Frank watched Brody leave and sipped his English Breakfast tea.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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JAWS/QUINT: THE BEGINNING
The boat with the men slides towards the bottom. My brothers pull more of the humans down. I arch my back so my fin brush’s Quint’s leg one last time.
He knows. I know. It can never be. For now.
