A tail tale.

Wob was no stereotypical shark.  He looked a bit like a carpet and his friends walked all over him.  This was in shark contrast to Great White who didn’t take any bull from anyone except the bull sharks who couldn’t help themselves.  GW was a loan shark and was so jawesome that he filled all fish with paralysing terror (a paralysing terror which usually filled him with fish).

Wob had bitten off more than he could chew: he had borrowed some money and couldn’t pay it back to GW who he knew might come for it any day now. Wob felt hopeless and alone, as though he was swimming in circles.  He WAS swimming in circles.  He looked at his tail and discovered  the faster he went, the faster his tail went.  Every now and then he caught his tail.  Over the next couple of days, he spent so much time chasing his tail that be became very good at catching it.  He was not a smark shart, and his tail got smaller bit by bit, as he bit and bit.  Eventually he had no tail left.  He had chased it right off.  Wob settled on the sea floor, and began to cry.  The fun was finished with no funds and few fins left.

Wob didn’t notice Great White until a huge shadow covered him.  Then how Wob did sob.  Wob wailed like a whale of the tale of his tail, leaving a trail of frail snails, stale kale and pale scales as he flailed.  He became impaled on a nail,  failed to inhale and ailed.

“Calm down, Wob” said GW, slightly taken aback at the sight of a complete wreck impaled on a complete wreck.  Wob regained consciousness, unhooked himself and drifted down to the sea floor looking slightly pale, but less prone to hysterical, rhyming behaviour.

“You’ve got me off your tail, given you no longer have one”, GW continued, “Consider your debt cleared.  It wasn’t that much money anyway, and there are plenty of other fish in the sea.  Now cheer up, I’ve never seen such a woe-begone wobbegong!”

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