And Once Again, The Proverbial Plot Thickens

Well, as much as I have often wished to die a super cool death at the teeth of a shark, I somehow discovered that I still had will to live.

Will wonders never cease?

As the big fish came closer I realized that I had very few choices. Despite my rather nimble skills as a swimmer, there was no way I could out swim this big boy. Also, I probably had almost no chance in a biting contest with him, regardless of the sharpness of my razor tooth incisors.

What's a girl to do?

And then, I remembered my feet. Luckily I was still wearing my spiky boots.

As the shark came barreling toward me, I aimed as well as I could through my complete and utter terror, and shoved my heels toward the master of the deep's nose.

I completely missed.

However, before the monster, who looked big enough to swallow me whole with one gulp (no chewing necessary), could chomp down and take both legs off at the knees, something latched on to me and yanked me backward and down, pulling the regulator from my mouth, but adding enough mass to my weight to pull me underneath the shark.

The beast, unable to stop his forward momentum, sailed over me like a yacht. I saw every inch of his ancient white belly sail directly over my face, mere inches from my nose. It was battle-scarred. For just an instant I experienced a total sense of awe and wonder at the big guy's power and majesty. What must it be like to be him?

Of course, that was probably just the effects of oxygen deprivation combined with adrenaline overload.

Unfortunately there was no time either to cheer or continue to wonder, even if I could have.

Already my body was once again beginning to scream from oxygen starvation, and whatever was pulling me down had me in a vise-like grip, pinning my arms to my sides and sending me, for the nth time that day into complete and utter panic.

Before I could really let go into all out terror mode, I saw the opening of the cave just to my left and down, and whoever had grabbed me let go.

Dammit.

Oh yeah, you guessed it.

Mr. Congeni-fucking-ality.

I barely had time to register my dismay at possibly owing the continuation of my marvelous career to that smiling bastard when my scuba angel grabbed my arm and began pulling me toward the mouth of the cave. Anxious to breathe again at some point in the near future, I gave my heart and soul to the swim.

The cave was nearly as black as the gaping maw of the shark that had almost sent me to the cool kid's table in hell... But had significantly fewer teeth.

The hold on my arm tightened, and I felt a splash on my face, and then, Thank Carlos, cool air filling my lungs. There was a second's pause, when it seemed like I had lost the knack of breathing altogether, but it was merely the fact that I appeared to be enthusiastically and heroically throwing up about 6 gallons of seawater. It tasted absolutely filthy.

I doubt I'll be having salt put on the rims of my margaritas for a while. Just sayin'.

The next thing I heard a crackle, and the sound of something being shaken. Within seconds a chemical glow stick lit up my surroundings.

So there I was... sitting in the shallows of an underwater cave with MysteryScubaGuy and Mr. Congeniality.

I was dripping wet, my leg was still bleeding, and I had absolutely no idea what the hell I was going to do to get my ship back or rescue my crew.

I wanted to put my head back under the water and resume trying to grow gills like a fish.Perhaps drowning wouldn't be such a bad way to go... It was certainly simpler than fighting...

Of course, Congeniality took this momentary pause in the action to give me a huge smile. He followed this impertinence up by saying,

"Hey, scuba guy, got any aloe or Neosporin in that pack? Queenie here owes me a rub down for saving her life."

He then had the unmitigated temerity to raise his eyebrows at me a couple of times in a distinctly smartass fashion.

I heard the person in the mask give a muffled snort of laughter.

The second thing I heard was a splash as Congeniality hit the floor like a ton of badgers. The third was a distinct moan.

Oh great... Now my knuckles are bleeding too.

Son of a bitch.

Apparently, Congeniality, in his infinite wisdom, managed to find the one moment in my mirth-filled life when I had lost every scrap of my Titanic sense of humor.

Maybe I should change his nickname to "Iceberg."

I hope I broke that smiling jackass' nose.

Rub some aloe on that, smartass.