It was a lovely day to spend at the beach. I took a good book along to read, my sunscreen, hat and a Pina Colada. I set up my beach chair facing the ocean and the bright blue sky. If there was paradise on earth, it was this, right here.

Some time passed, and suddenly I saw this tremendous shark get washed up on shore! It was dead. People screamed and ran for their lives, but I just remained there. After all, the shark was dead, and I was not about to give up the best spot on the beach for some dead carcass!

I set my book aside and marveled at this creature, majestic and ferocious, with all those uneven teeth, sharp as a sword. Time passed by, and another dead shark got washed up, and then they kept coming, lifeless and multiplying at an astounding rate, till I felt as though I was no longer on land; but this had become an extension of the sea. I know that common sense would dictate that I should have left, but I figured we could all share this lovely spot. Besides, what's the worst thing that could happen? I mean, with them being dead and all or so I thought.

I was surrounded as I shouted for help. The petrified crowd watched in horror as the sharks started to decapitate me and chew on my limbs as though this was their last supper! I was losing blood and life at an alarming rate when I heard the sound of a helicopter, and the paramedics came to my rescue.

I was sedated and airlifted to the hospital. I objected to the paramedics trying to get an IV into my arm because that hurt quite a bit. They looked at me baffled as if to say, "yeah, right, and this doesn't look painful at all". All was well, but every once in a while, I wonder if the sharks did manage to make it back to sea, to live another day and dine on some other unsuspecting sod.