Old Stories Are Better Than Old Fish

Most of my equipment is still in disrepair, so I decided that today I would share an older story with you all.

This was an adventure I had quite some time ago, when I was still a fresh-faced villain trying to make a name for myself.  You might have even seen the results in the news, though it’s somewhat embarrassing to me.

The idea was brilliant: take a localized fear that many have and allow it to travel anywhere, ruining any sense of safety people had away from were the threat usually resides.

The localized fear? Sharks.

Almost everyone who has ever seen Jaws feels some kind of fear when they go to the ocean. Some kind of gripping terror that as soon as they get into the water a ravenous monster will appear out of nowhere and rip them to shreds. Even if the person never has watched the movie, the effect still happens every year when news stations and other places on television all start over reporting the few shark attacks that occur. Of course, this all adds up to the fact that when even just one shark is spotted, everyone in the water simultaneously experiences such ball-gripping fear that they can’t help but run like hell. Sometimes screaming hilariously.

Pictured: Ball-Gripping Fear

Of course, away from the water, no one worries about sharks. The worst fear anyone has of them on land is that someone will ask them to eat one that’s been rotting for who knows how long.

Looks so delicious, I think I just threw up everywhere.

So, this led me to wonder: how does one make sharks a threat outside of the water and off of the dinner table?

Helicopter packs.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but when you think about it the beauty becomes clear. The blades are dangerous on their own, they function as a propeller underwater, and the WHUPPA WHUPPA WHUPPA noise they make is far more psychologically intimidating than anything a jetpack can do. The choice was obvious.

So, my grand plan went into action. Rented myself a boat and some scuba gear, bought off a couple of lackeys, and went out to gear up some sharks. It was a dangerous task, but things went better than expected. It turns out that sharks really REALLY don’t like having any kind of backpack attached to them, much less ones with moving parts, so they were more than willing to be terrifying and attack.

Unfortunately, this meant my lackeys got eaten.

Fortunately, this meant I didn’t have to pay them.

RIP thatguy, whatshisname, and heyyou

Once everything was all set, I went back to my lab to watch the chaos unfold.

At first, it truly was chaos. When the sharks came out of the water they were still pissed at their condition and set about chasing people out of the water, across the beach, even down the highways! It was glorious! I was certain that my name would forever be synonymous with fear.

There was, however, a minor flaw in my plan.

Pictured: Minor Flaw

Yes, it seems in my enthusiasm to have flying attack sharks, I neglected to consider that sharks attack through the same apparatus they use to breathe. My only options, therefore, were to either give them some kind of water-filled helmet so they could breathe or leave their mouths free to attack. I went for the attack option, so you can guess what happened.

Yes, after a short time, the sharks went from a frenzy of flying death to a lazily floating flock of sushi.

Threatening? No. Depressing? Yes.

Oh hey, I threw up again.

I can laugh about this failure now, mainly because I’ve found inspiration on how to improve the plan.

Mutated sharks.

All I need to do is keep them from becoming the good guys. Or…you know…dying of cancer.

Genius.

END TRANSMISSION