In which a shark bites with his pearly teeth
When Greg had told him that he needed him for his people skills, Tony Tony had assumed that he had been making an excuse for some company, now however he was beginning to suspect that his editor had been truthful. He was also beginning to realize that it is possible to suffer hospitality.
Mr. Ian Woon turned around in front of him, “Hey, T.T Balls out, check this.”
Tony Tony felt that he was beginning to hate that phrase; he gripped the sides of the board. Mr. Ian Woon brought the board within a foot of the water, and then turned it completely upside down.
Despite everything Tony Tony did feel impressed as he watched Mr. Ian Woon Wash his hair in a casual , dignified manner, then again maybe that was just the blood rushing into his head. Something large and shark-shaped, it may have been a shark, jumped at them, and fell about twenty meters behind them.
Suddenly Tony Tony wasn’t having quite as much fun, “You get many sharks around here?”, he asked.
“Oh natch, dude. This is the big red; Australia man; everything here wants to take a bite out of you.”
Tony Tony couldn’t help himself, “even the women?” he asked innocently.
Mr. Ian Woon laughed and, to Tony Tony’s great relief, turned the board upright again.
Tony Tony, felt the blood settle in his body again, it was a warm feeling. “Were did these boards come from anyway?” He asked Mr. Ian Woon
“The Prof back there came up with them”, said Mr. Ian Woon, jerking his head back, “We were Cowing together one night, me and him, and he suddenly goes all nuts on me and starts playing with McDonalds cups, so I leave him to it and next morning he’s messed with all our boards and now we fly man, like for real, not in our heads.”
Tony Tony’s reporter instincts kicked into high gear, he noticed the slightly neater looking surfer carrying Greg behind him, he began to understand why the spinning disks on the underside of the boards looked so familiar to him, but he was a reporter who knew his audience and above everything else one question came to the fore. “Cowing?” he asked.
“Eating grass, man”
“Ah”, chuckled Tony Tony, who was enjoying himself again. He stopped to consider, it was unlikely to say the least that he had stumbled across the original windsurfers, but still, Mr. Ian Woon was clearly a man on the inside of this story, and he clearly wanted to talk. Tony Tony could practically feel the notepad in his hand. When this is over, he thought, I may just write a book.