My boozer of an uncle was too drunk to drive his daughter (my cousin) to some tennis-awards thing and in typical fashion passed-the-buck to a family member. I just happened to be the one dumb enough to answer the phone. My tee-time wasn't 'til 2:00 that afternoon and I decided my karma could use the brownie-points, so I agreed to give her a lift. With a winding 50 miles of highway between us, I did my best to meet with a hasty departure.After nearly an hour I arrived at the small one-story home my uncle rented. Waiting on the porch with a big smile and a bounce in her step, Amy looked a bit chili in her little outfit. She did have a hoodie on, but it fell just short of the hem of her pleated, white skirt. She had just turned 16 but didn't quite look it. Much to her social-dismay, she was cursed with glasses and late development, though she had a self-proclaimed 'old soul' that made up for her....subdued outward qualities. Prancing to my truck, her skinny legs and freckled face were. I darted out of the brush and grabbed the tainted sunscreen.It was about an hour later as I watched from my hiding place, the last of my friends (Martin) walked down to the beach and called out for Quinton. He looked at Quinton's towel and stuff. He called a few more times looking out to sea. As he was standing there a really big Great White Shark broke the surface and rolled on his side. Plainly visible in his mouth was a human arm. My friend stared for a moment and then vomited in the sand.I retreated into the undergrowth. Soon the beach was crowded with police and such. I stayed hidden and watched all the commotion. The police had trouble believing that two men had died on this little island in such a short time. They questioned all the help, my friend Martin, and my wife. They were looking for me and couldn't get a straight answer from anyone as to where I was. They had reports from my headquarters that I was on an extended vacation with my wife. But they couldn't find me.
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