Saltwater and guts gushed onto the pier, covering Danny’s boots in chunks of partially digested fish and pink liquid.
“I can’t believe you caught this killer!” Jon said from the port side of his boat, The Wanderlust. “I see a hero’s welcome in your future, Danny-boy!”
“Don’t be so sure,” said Danny, slapping the side of the great white. “Norma doesn’t know the difference between a shark and a marlin.” They both laughed.
“What is that sticking out there, Danny?”
Danny moved his face to within an inch of what looked like fur hanging from the slit in the shark’s belly. He took hold of it, water seeping out between his knuckles and down the anchor on his forearm, and tugged softly. It didn’t budge. He looked up at his friend Jon and shrugged, then bent his knees and pulled harder until, with a pop and spurt, a deceased animal fell to the pier like a sopping beach towel.
“Mother Mary!” yelled Jon, leaning over the railing. “What is that?”
“A…
