Dear Mom, Since my last letter, I have been searching the city high and low for my new shark friend who left abruptly left after our evening of indulgence. I'm not sure where to look. This must be Paul Bunyan's place, look at the size of the kitchen utensils!
I thought my shark friend might hang out with the Miami Dolphins or maybe even the Seahawks. I checked the most logical places. My search was of no avail. All I found was an old man named Wally. He had not seen any sharks. He offered me a beer. Still reeling from the previous night, I declined.
Knowing the perils of the big city, I feared the worst. The possibility that my new friend may have become institutional fish sticks panicked me. I went straight to the source.
I did not find any fish sticks. But, I did meet the posse who normally prepares them. They seemed very kind and offered to help me get home.
Riding a Harley sure beats flopping around as a mode of transportation! I hopped on the hog and yelled "Let's get cookin'" and we were off! The wind flowing across my fins and the rumble across my tail is thrilling! I'll be home soon!
- Blue Shark
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