Why was the boat stopping? It wasn't supposed to stop. I had only jumped into the water because the boat would soon pull me up again and now it was stopping. Why did I let them talk me into this? I don't even like water skiing. Crap, they're taking the engine cover off.

"Hey", I yell, hoping there's a serious problem and I wouldn't need to follow through with this.

"It will just be a minute", the call comes back.

I look down and see my legs and the water skis dangling above the darkness below. How deep is this really, I wonder; 15 feet, maybe, over my head for sure. Suddenly the image of shark looming up from the murky darkness flashes through my mind.

Stop that, I scold myself as I mentally measure the distance to the boat and the nearest shore. I'm floating just about in the center of the cove, but the boat is only 50 feet away. I can see Billy and Richie poking and prodding the engine and I can hear them laughing and talking but I can’t make out the words.

"Glad you’re having fun", I yell again.

I start to regret that we smoked that joint. They were obviously enjoying it, but I’m just feeling paranoid.

The shark thoughts well up again. Damn, damn, damn! I splash some water on my face to break the negative train of thought. There’s probably not a shark within a mile of here, I tell myself, at least none bigger than a couple feet long. Even if there was they don’t generally just up and bite you, they sniff you over on few times, bump into you, see what you’re made of, before they attack.

Intellectually I know there's little to worry about but I can’t shake the deep seeded fear. Heck, if there’s anything to worry about, it’s probably a school of Blue fish. They could really rip a person apart. I again start to stare into the water below me looking for tell tales flashes of silver in the dark. I’m so tense; I’m practically scrunched in ball.

Just stop thinking and enjoy this, I tell myself

It's a beautiful day; the water is warm and salty. I can still taste the flowery marijuana we smoked earlier. Lots of pot tastes bad, but this was really nice. There are a couple of pretty girls in bikinis back at the dock too, think about them.

I start to feel safe; the buoyant tugging of the floatation belt I’m wearing feels nice as it lifts my shoulders out of the water and into the warm sun. Across the harbor I see two other water skiers crisscrossing. The browns and oranges of the rocky coast are practically glowing in the bright noon sun. I wish I could paint that, I think.

BUMP.

I didn't imagine that; something just hit me on my bottom. Holy shit! Shit! Shit! In a panic, I kick off the water skis and start swimming as fast as I can to the boat. Just swim, just swim I tell myself, waiting for another bump, or worse a bite.

I cover the distance to the boat in wild flurry of splashes and kicks. Then just as I grab onto the boat and pull myself out of the water, it dawns on me; when I relaxed, the tail of a water ski floated up and smacked me on the rear. There was no blue fish; there was no shark.

I'm on my belly now, half out of the water, laying on the gunnel of the boat like a trained seal. The look on my friends’ faces is a mix of concern and surprise.

"What the hell happened?" they ask.

I know I will never live this one down, so I try and make the best of it.

I look them in the eye and allow a sheepish grin to cross my face and sum it up as best I can,

"Giant Salmon."