Featuring Tamara Burman from NeighborWorks


Trim those boring weeds and plant some creative seeds with Endless Beautiful and our special guest, Tamara Burman from NeighborWorks!

Feeding the Shark

Feeding rocks to the shark. These things are not easy. One. Two. Small pebbles, perhaps a piece of gum. The shark doesn’t notice these things. But once you get the bigger stones, the rocks, the things that get caught between its teeth, and occasionally make it choke and spit, that’s when the shark gets angry.

I just fed the shark a big rock. Now it’s spitting black smoke. Huffing like a big dragon or a beat dog. Tongue and eyes lolling about. I thought it should have killed me by now, but perhaps it had been a while since someone was stupid enough to feed it stones.

Now I am that stupid one.

The shark, big green body, orange eyes, starburst tongue, jumped up on it’s 46 solid, but short legs. I thought it might utter a word before killing me. I thought it was going to say marshmallow.

A wild horse on the vast plateau drunk on candy.

It stumbled and fell.

I could feel the disappoint past my navel, real low. Afterall I had come here to feed the shark to die. To feel it’s wrath and diamond puncture teeth split through my guts.

Like in the story books.

But the shark stumbled, huffed and closed it’s eyes. A car drove by, somebody flipped us the bird. I think it was zebra.

A sat in front of the shark. She was strong. 100 feet long. Thick scales like slate. Fought and won a thousand great battles. Scrawled upon dark walls of mountain caves and on the chests of ancient princes.

Now she was barely breathing.

This was not how I imagined this. This was not how it was going to be.

I grabbed some pepper from my pocket and blew it up into her great snarled nostrils. She drew a big breath. And then Ah..ha…ha!

He massive jaws were wide before the big sneeze. Nothing but a black put. A nightwell into the sky, lined with her viscous dagger teeth. It was my chance.

I leapt into the blackness. Her great, long, dragon tongue snarled around my ankle, tore the skin with it’s serrated grip, but I was able to great though. It was dry. Dry as bones buried in chalk.

I clambered through the night.