Angelica's Shark

The Adventures of Abernathy Franklin - Episode 2: Angelica's Shark

"There's nothing like the sea for soothing sore nerves," I thought to myself as I sipped a strengthening cup of morning tea. I was relaxing on the veranda, or is it a balcony? Raised type of thing, you know, full of outdoor lounge furniture and overlooking this lovely golden beach in a menacing sort of way. Anyway.

Having recently met myself, absolutely in the extra dimensional flesh and not metaphorically on some head shrinking doctor's chaise sofa, I had found myself stepping out of my living room and into a rather long overdue bit of respite from ye ol' nine to five prison sentence. I wasn't entirely sure where I was, but if I had to hazard a guess, I would presume I had dimension hopped into some version of Earth in what I imagined to be the south of France. Not that I had ever actually been to the south of France in my own version of Earth - or any other for that matter. But I had absorbed enough literature and pop culture to suggest to me that this is what the south of France would look like.

As I say, I was relaxing on the veranda, actually on a chaise sofa of sorts as luck would have it, but sans medical physician. While supinely inclined, I absently observed the bathing suit clad beach strollers and swimmers this pleasantly warm A.M. and took in the salt air. I interested myself in the conversation of a young couple, carried upon the breeze as it were, to my resting spot.

"Darling, won't you join me? The water is quite refreshing, really," called the female of the pair. She was classically attractive, if it's not too impertinent for me to say. Long in the legs and full in figure, wearing a bright red vintage number bespeckled with white polka dots, along with a matching summer hat. Said hat being one of those floppy numbers that appeared to be roughly similar in diameter to one of the table umbrellas positioned on my veranda. Did we settle on veranda? Or did we still have some audience members at the back discussing architectural vocabulary? Well, nevermind.

"Darling, really, come in. You'll enjoy it!" Came the young woman's voice again.

"Hmmmm," was the feeble wordless reply of the male counterpart, lounging up the beach a space with his face buried in a book. I took it as read that whatever it was he sat pouring over, must have been quite the juicy little novella or spine tinglingly thriller. After all, if it weren't, I think I would be more than a little offended on behalf of the swimming pin up girl trying to goad him into the water.

Then again, upon closer inspection of this pale bookworm, I told myself the poor fellow must be some variety of delicate monied stock, with no spine for the great salt waves and perhaps also no spine for any red and white polka dotted pin up girl, swimming or otherwise. I do believe the scene I am about to detail for my public, will only give further evidence to support this theory of mine.

For some little time, the young lady continued to espouse the merits of dipping one's toes in the sea and otherwise making her best efforts to cajole her beloved into leaving his book and chair in favor of joining her. When all of a sudden, the young woman snapped into a terrified screaming fit, the likes of which Alfred Hitchcock himself would have coveted for his own films, and her words became a bit difficult to discern for a moment.

"Angelica, really. Is this necessary?" her limp and lazy partner oozed as he sat up half heartedly and dangled his book away from his face in clear annoyance. "Darling, I told you before we arrived, I really don't want to go in the ocean," he moaned in a spoiled sort of way.

"It's a shark, George! A shark! Help!" this Angelica wailed, apparently rooted to the spot in fear, frantically watching the water about her.

"A shark?" replied this young, evidently, George character. "Darling, are you quite sure? I don't see any fins sticking up out of the water."

"It's a shark! George!" Angelica spat in frustrated and still harried tones. "Do something!"

"But what can I do, darling?" pleaded George, only just now finally standing up and beginning motion in her direction. Though, none too rapidly, I must say.

"Uuuurrrhhh! Sebastian! Sebastian, there's a shark!" Polka Dotted Angelica was now addressing what you could call a strapping teenage boy who had hitherto gone unnoticed by me as he hadn't been engaged in the proceedings up to now. However, at the behest of this Angelica, the sprightly looking adolescent sprang forward, seemingly out of nowhere. Or at least out of where I hadn't been paying much attention.

"A shark!? Is it a big one?! Woopie! Stay still sis, I know just what to do!" And immediately, this Sebastian darted out of sight again without any further explanation.

None too comforted by her brother's exclamation and subsequent departure, this Angelica carried on with her panic stricken shouting to George, who had moved himself closer to the action but not so close as to let his own feet enter the water.

"George! I'll be eaten! It's attracted to red! I'm wearing red! It'll swallow me whole!"

"Well, darling, why did you have to wear red?"

"What?! Am I supposed to parade about the beach in the nude?!"

"Of course not in the nude, no. Perhaps in a shade of blue, better for camouflage, if you see what I mean." I had by now decided not to be offended on Angelica's behalf. If this George was half so much of a pathetic fish in the rest of life as he was now on this beach, bespeckled Angelica may well be better off eaten than to spend a lifetime with such a damp cheesecloth as poor book faced George.

"And I suppose this great beast shall just wait for me to change into something else more suitable, shall he?! Get help you hopeless buffoon! Sebastian!!!" Angelica bellowed, now seeming to be righteously incensed as well as afraid for the safety of her red suited personage.

Returning from I know not where, the retreated hero Sebastian reappeared with what he had evidently determined to be the right stuff. And mark my astonishment, as I watched this accursed Sebastian twerp produce from thin air, or perhaps a side pocket out of my eye line, a whopping ruddy stick dynamite! Which, until that moment, I had only ever seen in happily violent cartoons.

"What on earth do you propose to do with that?!" George burst out in shock.

"Sebastian, don't!" begged Angelica, now moving through the waist deep water away from the coming explosion. The shark, if there ever was a shark, for the nonce, had become somewhat of a side issue. "Sebastian! No!"

Nothing doing. The kid Sebastian had already ignited a lighter and touched flame to fuse. He wound up like a professional ball player at the pitchers mound and loosed the object in the direction of his sister. A shrieking Angelica dived below the surface and away from the explosive just soon enough to avoid loss of limb. There was the devil of a bang and geysers of watery debris issued skyward and came splashing down upon all and sundry.

Self, having ducked down behind my ample outdoor furniture for preservation, rose to see a soaking wet, blustering Angelica hauling herself up onto the beach. She seemed to be without grievous injury but certainly the worse for wear, while Sebastian was running to the rescue and darling George brought up the rear. The entire commotion was drawing a small crowd, issuing forth a good deal of shouting from all sides in varying degrees of "What's all this?" and "My god! Are you alright?" and "What the bloody hell do you think you're playing at?!"

Whether or not ties betwixt dear polka dotted Angelica and poor drooping George were being severed, I cannot say. Nor can I confirm or deny whether the creature from the deep got it in the gills. Nor, in fact, whether there had been any gills at all to be gotten. No, dear friends, I did not remain in statu quo, as I believe the expression is. After all, I wasn't entirely certain where I was, and had no interest in explaining how I got there to the gendarmerie, or whatever proper authorities were bound to appear in short order.

I poured my tea defeatedly over the side of the veranda and retreated indoors to see if I could work out what sort of "no place like home" trick would green portal me back to Kansas. So much for soothing the nerves, eh? Ah well, better luck next go round. Cheers for now, dear friends. Abernathy Franklin signing off.