I mean, the absence of those children themselves hasn't gone unnoticed, but no one has stopped to link it to the swimming pool itself...or should I say it's contents. It's a sad and woeful truth, but that shark in the big pool at the town's leisure establishment is to blame for many a tiddler's vicious demise.
There's a particular type that the shark goes for and it's certainly never the skinny ones. Those ones aren’t meaty enough for the greedy, giant fish and their bones get stuck in his grimy teeth.
He doesn’t like the chatty ones; the ones too busy talking to concentrate on their swimming. He finds those ones quite wriggly to eat and, once consumed, they give him terrible wind (all that hot air I suppose).
It's hardly ever the weak swimmers either, for the gnarly old shark won't risk exposing itself in the shallow end, where the learners bob and float atop their various inflatable devices.
That leaves us with the ones he DOES like to eat. And it’s the dive-bombers! The ones that take a run-up and hurl themselves in to the water with an almighty yell, splashing water in to the faces of everyone around them. You know the ones? You see, the moment everyone turns their heads and covers their eyes, he takes his opportunity. It means that no one sees him snatch the tucked-up little body as it plunges right in to the depths of his territory.
Now, you may be reading this with a certain level of scorn; a disbeliever who snorts at the very idea of a shark dwelling in a small town swimming pool. But, ask yourself this....the next time you find yourself in the darkened navy waters of the deep end can you, honestly and truthfully, say that there's no shark hovering silently behind the rusty old grate in the corner?
What else is that grate there for?
Hmmmm?
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