Body count
Finn reminded the school: this is a census. There is to be
NO contact. WHATSOEVER.
He swivelled his snout towards Ripley, who last year had succumbed
to temptation and nudged a few splashers. The resulting pandemonium of flailing
limbs emptied the waters before they could get a decent count. Ripley grinned. A mostly
intact salmon he had been tongue-rolling, savoring its oily sweetness, shot from
between five rows of jagged pearly whites and high-finned it towards the seagrass.
And remember, Finn ordered, when I give the signal, submerge!
You know how hysterical they get when they spot our dorsal bits.
Oh, that's wonderful! lol I love the idea of them taking a census of - I guess - legs.
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