Why... just why,... am I stupid?!

Cuddles and Confusion

Well, this is awkward.

Just when I'm starting to accept the fact that I'm now the main attraction in some weird underwater petting zoo, the shark decides it's time to get even friendlier. It swims up to me, and before I can even react, it gently nuzzles my cheek.

Me: Uh, thanks?

At least I have a friend now....

I guess......?

I'm not sure what the appropriate response is when a prehistoric shark gives you a cheek nuzzle, but I'm pretty sure I nailed it. The shark, apparently satisfied with our bonding moment, gives me one last glance with those big dark eyes and then—out of nowhere—turns and swims off in a hurry.

Wait, what?

I'm left floating there, chained up like a bad Houdini impression, surrounded by a massive school of clownfish that are just as stunned as I am. They all stop moving, hovering in the water as if they're collectively asking, "What just happened?"

Good question, little guys.

The shark vanishing act leaves a gaping hole in the fishy crowd, and now it's just me and a sea of confused, orange-striped clownfish staring at each other.

Well, that's just perfect.

I try to take advantage of the situation, shifting and pulling against the chains again, but they hold tight. I even try to summon some of that demigod strength, thinking maybe I've got a superhuman burst of energy left somewhere in me. Nope. Nada.

Awesome. 

Still stuck.

I struggle harder, twisting my wrists, yanking at the chains with everything I've got. The water around me swirls with the effort, the clownfish scatter a bit, but the chains don't budge.

Come on! 

You can do this. 

Break the chains, be the hero, get out of this mess... 

Nope, never mind.

No amount of demigod strength or willpower is helping me here. The chains are as stubborn as a Minotaur after a bad day. The clownfish slowly regroup, inching back toward me like they're expecting another show.

Yeah, nothing to see here, folks. 

Show's over.

I slump back, exhausted and more than a little frustrated. The fish continue to stare at me, and for a second, I wonder if they're mocking me. I mean, they're clownfish, right? That's like, their whole deal.

Just as I'm about to resign myself to being the fish's new favorite statue, something stirs in the water. A ripple of movement, far off but getting closer. The clownfish suddenly go still, their little fins quivering in the current.

And then I see it—my shark buddy is back. But it's not just casually swimming over this time. No, this thing is practically dancing through the water, zigzagging and swerving like it's had way too much caffeine. It swims straight up to me, all happy and excited, like it just found the best toy in the ocean.

Me: Hey, uh, did you find something?

The shark does a little loop-de-loop and then swims in close again, and that's when I hear it—a deep, bone-rattling roar coming from behind it. The sound reverberates through the water, so powerful that I can feel it vibrating in my chest.

Oh, this can't be good.....

No way in .... ahm heaven? Hell? Other world? 

The clownfish scatter in an instant, fleeing like a school of skittish minnows. Even the shark freezes for a moment, its eyes wide with something that looks suspiciously like glee. Whatever made that roar, it's big. Like, really big.

Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse.

The shark swims around me in excited circles, like it's trying to say, "Hey, look what I brought!" The roar echoes again, closer this time, shaking the very water around us.

This is definitely not what I needed right now.

Whatever's coming, it's not going to be small, and judging by the shark's reaction, it's probably something I should be very, very worried about.