Shark Man

In the center of a large event tent, they were gathered around a plastic table covered in drugs. There was almost every flavour ready and available. A mirrored plate with white powder, decades before it would presumably be cocaine, but in that modern world of narcotics the choices were almost endless. The number of analog stimulants and concoctions were staggering, pun intended. Letting one's gaze wander the length of the table, the various piles of white, off white, yellow, and brown, were intimidating to say the least. Ketamine, 2-CB, speed, molly, sassafras. Pills, halves and crushed pieces littered the surface of the table everywhere, with no sense of organization. Glass pipes of all shapes and sizes, ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts, and little trays of marijuana and rolling papers. A vial of a sparkling liquid sat in the center, beside a small baggie of strangely curled fungus.

This was a party indeed. She stood up, leaning heavily on her friends on either side, and wobbled towards the door in jerky robotic movements. She shouldn’t have taken that third line of K, she thought. Now she would have to fight the K hole. Or maybe head back to the table for a bump of coke, that always set the K back in its place. Too late, she thought, I’m already outside, and she was.

The neon rainbow lights on everything were intense. For being as lit up as the place was, there were so many shadows. She wobbled over to one of the deepest shadowed areas, doing the herky jerky. Pulling her panties down, she squatted, and peed right on her feet. FUCK. Standing up, dripping and frustrated, she yanked her clothes back into place, and stepped out onto the dirt road. Looking up and down the makeshift road, she tried to remember which way lead to her tent. FUCK, she thought again. Choosing one direction over the other, she had a 50/50 chance of making it there. She turned right, and trudged through the dust.

“Are you lost?” the voice said. Turning, she saw a large shark looming towards her. “FUCK”, this time she said it aloud. “Cool cool cool cool cool” the shark said. Offering her his fin to steady herself, “we’ll find it!” he quipped, awfully chipper for a shark in the forest. “I didn’t tell you what I lost yet” she told him, to which he replied, “you don’t have to, I saw the look on your face. Whatever it is, I’ll help you get there safely.”

A bit down the road, veering up the grass, and weaving through tent after tent, they carefully avoided guy lines and tent stakes. The lights always shifting and moving around them, she kept wondering how much of it was real and how much was from that table of drugs. “It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” as if the shark could read her mind. She wasn’t aware that sharks were mind readers. She was learning so much at this festival. “I think my tent is this way,” as she stumbled over a giant oversized inflatable peacock. She remembered that peacock for sure.

Victory at last, she unzipped and fell into her tent in one swift motion. The shark stood above her, and bending in to get a better look at her, she realized he had a human face under the gaping jaws. “Nice Onesie” she mumbled. “So you’re good yeah? Do you wanna go back to the dance floor? I’ll wait for ya” was his response.

She didn’t reply, partly because words were hard, and partly because she was having such fun rifling through her stuff. Glittering sequins and tutus galore. What to wear, was the weekend old question. Her hand rested on a cold cylinder, and in her high she could not remember what it was. She held it up to her face, and squinted at it. A bright light flashed across it, a headlamp beam from the shark man. “Oh good you got pepper spray” he said to her. That was it, pepper spray. She looked at him, through one eye, then the other. Trying both eyes at once, she said, “I don’t wanna use it on you” and he laughed a laugh that sounded a lot like that baby shark song.

This shark man was not anyone she knew, but that was part of the glory of festivals. Everyone was your friend, unless of course they weren’t. She was incredibly thankful her new sharp toothed friend was being so respectful. He’d probably keep all the piranhas at bay as well, towering above her tent like a tall beast of the sea.

Rolling around in her mess of costumes, she managed to piece together some semblance of clothing that covered most of her body, but certainly not all of it. While the nights in Northern california were sometimes quite chilly, the number of narcotics coursing through her system were keeping her quite toasty. She grabbed a backpack, and shoved her own favorite onesie into it, for that morning sunrise time when the air would be too cold for any drugs to work against it.

The shark man was still there, his tail turned to her, bopping along to the sounds of echoing bass. “I’m ready!” she called out. Had twenty, or thirty minutes passed? Maybe just a few. She had no idea. The K was wearing off, thank god, and she stood up.

“Wanna bump?” she offered him a tiny jar, open and gleaming. The moonlight made it glow almost blue. “Blow” she confirmed for him before he even asked. “Rad” and he took it from her. Tossing a bit up each nostril from his thumb, he handed it back to her. “Drop?” he asked, and she held out her hand. He dropped a single drop of glimmering liquid onto the back of her hand just by her thumb knuckle. She licked it off, as he gave himself two of the very same drops. “Hey!” she said, and held her hand out again. A second drop, and they were off.

Approaching the dirt road again, successfully having navigated the tents and booby trap guy lines, they both looked up and down the so called street. No need to exchange names, the Shark checked her out in the light from a green laser, and said “Nice costume change Strawberry Cupcake” and she handed him a lollipop. Strawberry, of course. A well planned packing job when headed to a festival where one would consume the amount of intoxicants as festival goers do, was key. You had to have what you needed, or you obviously didn’t need it.

They skipped like children, arm linked with fin, and trundled down the dusty road towards the booming bass. Passing groups of furry creatures and glowing eyes, blinking lights and random shouts of ridiculous things, they kept going. Tripping, figuratively and literally, on almost everything. The bass got louder, as they got closer. The lights became a wall of brightness, shifting and moving so much that it seemed as if the trees were bending with it. Or was that the lsd, she wasn’t sure and she didn’t really care. Gripping his fin tightly, Strawberry Cupcake looked at the shark, and planted a wet kiss on his fuzzy toothed cheek. Wiping a lint ball away from her lips, she laughed and yanked him into the pounding crowd.

They danced, this way and that. The dancers all accepting them as family. Everyone was smiling, that shit eating grin of pure joy, the one where a human has visibly left behind the chains of existence. It was peace, it was love, it was music. It was a rave, in the forest, and they had all created it together. Tables full of drugs or not, it was paradise. As the night wore on and the moon traveled over them, they danced. They danced until their feet ached and their throats were dry with dust.

Eventually, she needed to sit, the sky was brightening, and she felt a shiver course through her body. Time for the onesie, she thought. Walking over to the side of the dance floor, she saw her friends she had lost earlier in the night. They had a tank of nitrous beside them, and were handing out balloons. She squealed with delight, and took one as she twirled. Plopping down in the dirt, she saw the shark man heading away, she hollered “SHARK MAN" and he turned. Seeing her, he came and sat beside her. They passed the balloon back and forth until it was deflated, and tossing the empty piece of rubber at her pals, she jumped up. Holding something furry.

She unfurled it, and lo and behold, another shark onesie. This one was tiny, just her size. She wiggled out of the strawberry outfit, and pulled the shark on. She looked at her shark friend, who stared at her in amazement and wonder. “Look, I’m a baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo” and keeled over laughing. He rolled up onto his knees, and scooping the baby shark up into his fins, he kissed her back.

They have been married nineteen years now, and have shown their own kids how to party responsibly. While the drugs and music shift and change with time, one thing never does. Love finds a way. It always, always, finds a way. It is truly magic, how one shark can find their mate, even in a sea of tripping creatures.