2.
I have gone with my new family to the beach, following them at a safe distance so that they aren't upset by my smell, hiding behind trees or letter boxes if ever they turn around. I am standing there on the beach eating a chip that I have wrestled from the beaks of a flock of seagulls. The chip is cold and horrid and flecked with bits of sand and I shove it into my mouth with urgency. Samatha comes up to me.
“Shoo!” she says.
“Shoo!” I say back.
She stomps her foot and runs away crying. I walk along the beach towards the pier where fishermen are casting their lines. The thing with fishermen is that they drop a lot of stuff, and leave a lot of stuff behind when they leave, and sometimes a tasty morsel will fall and I am quick to snatch it up. Sometimes they are a little slow reeling in their lines and I am able to snatch a thrashing fish or a clump of fresh seaweed right from the end of the hook. I stand there below the pier, knee deep in water with my mouth open, moving back and forth. Suddenly I am aware of something wrapped around my ankle, and then something sharp digging into the flesh behind my Achilles tendon. I let out a shriek and fall over backwards into the sea, flailing about. They've got me! I try to crawl away but it hurts too badly and the line is too strong and I am stuck fast.
“Bloody snag!” I hear somebody yell. “I'll have to untangle it, this is my good line.”
Then there are hands on my shoulders. I cry out and start to drown in two inches of water. Someone pulls my spluttering head up.
“Settle down!” the man says. “Keep still or I can't get this thing off!”
I continue to scream and wave my arms and legs about.
“Keep still, bugger you!”
He puts his hands over my eyes and I am not so afraid any more. I go still, breathing slowly. I can feel the man fiddling with the line wrapped around my leg, pulling and shifting it. The hook is driven further in and begins to scrape against the bone of my heel and I cry out in agony.
“Looks like it's stuck in there pretty good, Frank,” says another man.
“I know. I'm going to have to cut it free.” He sighs. “What a waste.”
“We can't leave the poor bloody thing with that wrapped around his leg. He'll die of poisoning, or shock.”
“He'll be fine. This is stainless steel.”
“How is he supposed to hunt for food with that stuck into him? What if it gets caught on something?”
“Should I take his leg off, do you think?”
“I dunno.”
“You see them going around all the time with only one leg. They do fine. Usually the ones with only one leg are the fattest of all!”
“I suppose it's the best thing.”
“Okay then. Poor little fella. Look, pass me the knife. No, the big one with the serrated blade.”
“Here.”
“Okay,” the man whispers in my ear, “This is going to hurt for just a minute, but it's for the best, honest. Try and stay still. Shhhh.”
I can feel the blade sawing through the back of my leg just below the knee, moving quickly through skin and flesh and muscle, then through the bone. I scream out into the sand.
“Shhhh,” the man says. “Shhhh.”
