13 The Day the Shark Bit My Head Off

The Day the Shark CHOMP! Bit My Head Off

"Hey, Andy," said Terry, "can you put this pizza into the oven for me?" "Sure," I said. "Be careful," said Terry. "The oven is really hot." "I'll be the judge of that," I said. (Terry's a terrible judge of heat— I'm much better.) I touched the side of the oven. I screamed as I pulled my finger away. "That's really, really HOT! Why didn't you tell me how hot it was?" "I did," said Terry. "But you wouldn't listen."

"Well, I would have if you'd told me it was that hot!" I said. Just then, Jill came into the pizza parlor. She was drinking a bottle of lemonade. "What's going on?" she said. "Why are you shouting at Terry?" "Because he didn't warn me how hot the oven was and I touched it and burned my hand," I said. "I'm sorry to hear that," said Jill. "Would you like a sip of my lemonade to help take your mind off it? It's a really nice sherbet flavor." "Thanks," I said, taking the bottle from Jill. "Don't drink it too fast, though," said Jill. "It's extra fizzy!"

"I'll be the judge of that," I said. (Jill's a terrible judge of fizziness— I'm much better.) I took a big mouthful and a million billion tiny bubbles of fizziness almost burst my brain. (You've heard of brain freeze? Well this was brain FIZZ.) I screamed as bubbles came out of my nose, my ears, my eyes, and my mouth. "That's really, really FIZZY! Why didn't you warn me how fizzy it was?" "I tried to," said Jill. "But you wouldn't listen." "I would have if you'd told me it was that fizzy," I said. Just then, Edward Scooperhands came into the pizza parlor pushing a portable ice-cream cart. "Get your extra-cold ice creams, folks!" called Edward. "Cold enough to give you brain freeze forever! You've been warned!"

I suppose you're probably thinking that I said, "I'll be the judge of that," and grabbed an extra-cold ice cream, shoved it in my mouth, and got brain freeze forever. Well, I didn't. I'm not stupid, you know. Edward Scooperhands is a very good judge of the coldness of ice cream! (Robots are much better judges of that sort of stuff than humans.) "Oh, and by the way," said Edward. "On my way here I passed the tank full of man-eating sharks, and the sharks seemed extra snappy. I don't think they've been fed. I gave them some ice cream but I think it must have been too cold because they spat it out." "No problem, Edward," I said. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll go and feed them now." I grabbed a bucket of fish and headed to the tank. When I got there, the first thing I saw was a big sign

that said: BE CAREFUL WHEN YOU'RE FEEDING THE SHARKS BECAUSE THEIR TEETH ARE SHARP ENOUGH TO BITE YOUR HEAD OFF. "I'll be the judge of that," I said. WARNING BE CAREFUL (I'm a much better judge of FEEDING THE SHARKS BECAUSE shark-tooth-sharpness than whoever TEETH ARE SHARR wrote that sign and I really don't ENOUGH TO BITE YOUR HEAD OFF think the sharks' teeth are sharp enough to bite anybody's head off.) I stood close to the edge of the water, and the sharks rushed toward me. Edward was right. They were hungry! They were leaping out of the water, biting the fish right out of my hands, and then, in the frenzy, one jumped up extra high and bit my head off! I screamed—or, rather, my head screamed, "A SHARK BIT MY HEAD OFF!"