Kiss My Jaws


Suggested Audio Jukebox ♫

[1] LL Cool J “Deepest Bluest”

[2] Alice Cooper “I’ll Bite Your Face Off”

[3] John Williams “The Big Jolt!”



Those Amity Island bitches have it coming if you ask me. What’s wrong? You never seen a shark vocalize its intense loathing for the human race before? Well there happens to be rather a lot about us that you may not be aware of. For instance, did you know that my species has been around for over 400 million years, have survived five planetary extinction attempts, and put our dinosaur cousins to shame when putting this run together? Then how about this one? Most of us would drown if we ceased moving, making us officially the most unfortunate breed in existence. Moreover, we’re viewed as spiteful predators when, in truth, more people die as a result of falling coconuts on a yearly basis than as a result of shark attacks. Yet we’re considered this almighty threat to security and feared on reputation alone, even though the statistics don’t support folk’s paranoid ramblings. Talk about misunderstood, my ancestors would have every right to feel harshly adjudged if it weren’t for the fact that I’m out there in the big swim taking chunks out of anything that strays into my slender line of vision and generally making a nuisance of myself.


The name’s Jaws and, if you can hear the sound of rattling metal when I speak, then that would be the bent up license plate currently situated deep in my stomach lining. Don’t ask me how it got there as I have no intention of revealing my secrets as I rather enjoy all the mystery and love listening to folk ruminate over whether I’m twenty or thirty feet in length. For the record, I’m nearer thirty and every bit the hazard that they have me billed as. The idyllic seaside resort of Amity has been beset by shark attacks recently and, while officials are keen not to encourage a state of emergency and keep these deaths under wraps, the public are starting to suss out that it’s no longer safe to enter the water. Until now my actions have been low-key and it has suited me down to the plankton as I’ve been able to go about my business largely unchallenged. However, several fatal ambushes in as many days has seen me become private enemy number one and I’m no longer permitted to come and go as I wish. Whatever happened to the out-of-town snorkel divers? To the midnight skinny dippers? To the big-breasted water skiers? It’s getting mighty lonely sub-aqua and I’m struggling not to take this snub to heart you know.


I’m sorry, has my frankness caught you off-guard? The last thing you expected was one of the world’s deadliest predators to open up and hint at the melancholy within, am I right? What made you suspect that sharks couldn’t have feelings too? It’s the eyes isn’t it? Admittedly we do tend to look a little shady and you’ve every right to be cautious once we slide menacingly into your vicinity. But we only do what we do to pass the time as, unless you haven’t noticed, the sea is hardy the hive of activity Herman Melville would have you believe. Fish are frequently criticized for making lousy house pets and, the next time you’re bitching about cleaning out their water filter, remember that I have to hang out with these blank nonentities. You ever attempted to explain to a minnow that you’re suffering from fierce acid reflux? They’ve forgotten before you can flash your stained teeth and forgotten that they’ve forgotten a second later. I used to know a shrimp named Mike and he introduced himself to me every single time he passed until one day I could take no more and swallowed him whole. Do you want to know the last thing he said as he slid down? Hi I’m Mike. And he was supposed to be my best friend.


So as you can see, it’s no picnic being a great white shark with a naturally touchy-feely persuasion. The way I see it, I have two options at my disposal presently and neither of them appear particularly attractive. On one hand, I can blow this popstand and head on down the coast to another unsuspecting school of water babies, and on the other, I can wait for a toxic spill and just pray that I mutate into something that can survive on mainland. Fuck it, if flying piranha can make a name for themselves, then there has to be hope for me yet right? We all know how unscrupulous these chemists are and they’ll gladly dump anything mildly noxious into the ocean without a second thought just to save themselves the clean-up job. That’s where I come in as one wash and rinse later I’ve got six legs and a pair of broken mallard wings. The flappers I can do without but, as for those getaway sticks, well they could be my ticket to taking my shit to the streets. After all, it happened in Sharknado. If those guys can become an overnight success, then there’s still hope for me yet the way I see it.


I will first be required to fend off a little light competition from the local police chief, Brody, and his hired cronies, Hooper and Quint, who have grand designs on hunting themselves a great white shark and are currently scouting these very waters. It’s times like these when I could really do without the fin as it’s hard to remain incognito when your whereabouts is made abundantly clear before you can perform the all-important sneak attack. To be honest, I’m not exactly sweating on this particular incoming threat as they seem to spend half their time arguing amongst themselves and the other half getting blind drunk and reciting sea shanties together below deck. Their rickety old vessel is called the Orca and I reckon I can munch through the stern in no time so I plan to bide my time until the ideal moment to strike arises and remind these chumps who’s the man out here in the big blue. They may think they possess the smarts to defeat me in my own front yard but I’m not about to be muscled out of my natural habitat by a trio of salty sea dogs with absolutely no idea how to net themselves a big one.


If you’re in any doubt about my superiority then please allow me to relay just a handful of my recent aquatic victories and clear things up a little. I’m guessing you know all about Nemo and Dory by now right? Their plight has been well documented over the past few years and it would appear that the whole world has gotten behind them in their attempts to become found. Well guess who else recently had their back? That’s right, yours truly. Let’s just say that I offered them a warm spot to take the weight off their gills and they were in absolutely no position whatsoever to decline. I’m not about to be upstaged by a couple of bottom feeders like Nemo and Dory, regardless of how naturally charismatic they might be. So I fucked their shit up in a heartbeat and shat them out in batter as a stark reminder to any other plankton looking to get ideas above its station. This is my arena and that Flipper loser can piss off too as I’ve been feeling peckish for a dash of dolphin blubber and his constant bleating sets my jaws on edge like Quint’s nails on a blackboard.


By now you’re likely regarding me as something of a bully and I’m glad you finally took the chum line as I’m your very worst nightmare down here in these murky waters and make no apologies for acting so brutish as it’s simply the nature of the beast. Had it been intended for me to make friends and influence people, then I wouldn’t have been made to look so menacing would I? I mean, the dead black eyes alone should act as something of a whistle-blower and you don’t get a grill of gnash like mine by opting for the caesar salad. Think badly of me if you will but I’m actually only following protocol. My dear father taught me how to look after myself from a very young age and, when a trawler load of inebriated fishermen decided to fish him out of the swim around the time of my first birthday, I pledged then to become a real asshole and seem to be well on course. You can blame the genetics but it’s all ultimately about revenge and, if there’s one great white shark you don’t wish to paddle past with your ass in a rubber ring, then it’s one with good old-fashioned vengeance on his tiny little mind.


Which reminds me, I object to being called stupid and it’s a common misconception that my kind lack intelligence when it really couldn’t be farther from accurate. Do I not speak eloquently? Are my intentions at all foggy? Have you heard anything here that has led you to believe that I’m some kind of numskull? Negative on all three counts. I may not possess the highest I.Q. but I do have a little something called killer instinct and that trumps the ability to solve a Sudoku puzzle any day of the week in my book. You’re aware of Davy Jones’ Locker right? Well I ran the door there for over seven years and not once did the loot come under fire. Let’s not tease the tuna here, many endeavored to lift this sunken treasure and one or two may have even made it close to the coffer before getting their rudders subtracted. But none have succeeded and, before you go searching for your scuba gear, I spent the whole cache on cheap hookers and malt liquor after Davy’s payroll diddled me out of my time and a half. Then I headed straight down to the Krusty Krab and punched Spongebob Squarepants in the solar plexus just to tickle my gills some.


So what if I’m a callous bastard, sue me if it makes you sleep any easier at night but it won’t stop me converting the deep blue sea into my own personal stomping ground while you’re catching those Z’s. I’m Jaws goddamnit, the biggest, baddest cold water badass ever to be presented his own theme music and it’s happy hour all year round down here as my appetite for destruction can never be found wanting. In the past week alone I’ve consumed seven fishermen, three water babies, three snorkelers, the same number of oxygen tanks, a spare tire, two jetskis, half a dozen body boards, twelve stingrays, a rubber dinghy, approximately nine thousand guppies, a hardback edition of War & Peace (like there’s any other kind), Matthew McConaughey’s left flip-flop, both David Hasselhoff and Billy Warlock, one little mermaid, and let’s not forget my old pal Mike, God rest his sole. Once this toxic spill arrives, I plan to get all up in your zip code and bite myself some wounds but, until D-day cometh, just continue to foolishly believe it is safe to go into the water. I double dare you to dip your toe in. 


Click here to read Lockjaws






  1. This is awesome! Who knew Bruce was a sensitive soul? He is a badass with a killer track record but he has a heart the size of the Atlantic. Great job, Richard! 👍👍

    1. Thank you tremendously Susan, so glad you enjoyed. I get a great kick out of taking old classics and having some fun with them. It was high time I took it to the murky depths…

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