get donkey!

You’re killing us here, people.

This time last year we were on top of the world. We were living high on the hog, people were talking, and we were this close to inking a deal on another Jaws picture. You couldn’t turn around without seeing another story about a tiger in Tampa or a blue tip in Bermuda. It was great TV. You loved us and we loved to eat you.

So much has changed this summer. The whole crazy planet has gone cuckoo if you ask us. It’s all kidnaps, kidnaps, kidnaps. No one’s paying us any attention. Some hammerhead down in the Keys took a hunk out of a guy’s ass last week, and no one even noticed. Hell, the dumb mook reported it as a barracuda attack. A frickin’ barracuda!? What an insult! I got chunks of barracuda in my stool!

And we’ve tried being nice too. Some broad fell into one of your shark hoosegows in Orleans and we didn’t even take a nibble. Not even a taste. And what thanks did we get? Nada. Not a peep. Instead we had to listen to that crazy chick gab on and on about how she “just freaked out”. Take a pill, lady.

So what’s gonna take to win you back, baby? What do we have to do to get a little face time with Connie Chung? What, are you afraid we’re gonna bite? Okay, bad question. But hey, it’s nothing personal. After all, a guy’s gotta eat. It’s that whole circle of life number. We can’t help ourselves.

Anyway, we’re still swimming around out here and we’re getting jumpy. And I don’t have to tell you, mac, that a jumpy shark ain’t a happy shark. So throw us a bone already… or a kid.

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