How Jaysus met his maker. Part 5.
The flood waters having left my driveway, my car being at my disposal again, hunting she shall go. My arrival at the now defunct gas station, having not been marred by running over any pedestrians, was no less horrific. NOT FOR SALE. The gas station had sold and was now a scuba shop slash paint ball shop, which makes a giant shark relevant to its business. Personally I would have shot the shark up with paint balls to get the point across, but I digress. I opted to get out of my car after sobbing for a good 20 seconds, and take photos. The owner, who again had no paint balls splatter on him, walked slowly towards me with a look that said let's try to not scare the crazy lady. The walking on tippy toes, arms stretched out in a "I am harmless" way, like he was going to bag me, was a bit much, no? I tried that whole banter thing I've seen other people do with strangers. I've been observing this in humans for many years now, so I gave it a go. "SHARK FOR SALE...