Fisherman

He hauled on the rod, the line taut and trembling in the water. The front fender of a red convertible appeared slowly. Beside him sat the pile of other objects fished from the depths: jewelry, golf clubs, a laptop.

“How about that, huh?” said the worm from his hook.

“I told you what I want,” the man growled.

“There’s gotta be another way!”

“Just catch a damned fish.”

“Fine.”

He tossed the line and the worm back out with a splash. A few moments passed. A dark shadow moved beneath the surface, rising like an island. An island with teeth…