Shark Boy (A story of young love, profound horror, and deepest loss - Written by Matthew Munsey - Edition 2)

“Shark Boy, Shark Boy” the shrill chorus of prepubescent voices rang out over the elementary schoolyard. They danced around him and sang their insults, clanging and clacking their palms onto the cold green metal frame of the swing set each time they passed by. A miserable jubilee of delighted childhood angst, fettered only slightly by the recess woman, Ms. Applesmock, and her meek admonition to stop making fun. But there was no stopping them. Larry knew that all too well. All that he could do was hold on tight, and hope that it would be over soon. Suddenly, amongst the clamor, Larry felt a sharp pain in his back and was jolted upright. His eyes, hitherto sealed against the terror before him, suddenly opened wide. And before Larry could even decide what to do, there it was again. Larry leaped from the swing set in horror, crashing to the wood chips that littered the floor earth below. And laughter. Such a sweet sound, Larry thought, as tears began to bud in his innocent, terrified black eyes.

“Hey, what a surprise huh? Shark Boy wants to take a swim!” Slowly and carefully Larry turned his head from the dirty wood chipped playground he now lay upon up, to the voice that was now directly over him. It was George Peters, of course, and he was smiling. George was holding a long, jagged stick in his right hand. His left was in his pocket. Again came the pain, as George took a long, hard poke into the small of Larry’s back. Larry’s shrill cry rang out over the yard, and yet still the children danced and sang around him, reveling in his misery. “Oh come on George, bust sharky up good like you said you would!” Cindy Fedmouse. Larry’s heart sank even further. Not her too. George was laughing and looking from Cindy and back to the earth where Larry still lay. Larry knew what was coming next, but he was paralyzed with fear. All he could do was watch as George loomed over him. From the corner of his eye, Larry was able to make out Ms. Applesmock. She was coming this way. Her rotund body rippled and struggled to cross the playground, each of her labored steps coming more slowly than the last. She usually sat in that chair to move and wasn’t very fleet-footed when forced to abandon its comforts. Why they picked her to be the recess woman, Larry was not sure. Maybe it was because no one else wanted to do it, and she was an easy target to force it on. Larry thought that was probably it. At least that was something that Larry could understand.

Still looming over Larry, George began to slowly remove his hand from list left pocket, along with whatever he had been keeping there. Larry’s eyes fell upon the brazen object now clutched around George’s fist, and horror wracked his body. Larry had seen that device once before. Earlier in the year George had brought it in for show and tell. He had called it, a brass knuckle. According to George, his uncle, before being sent away to camp, had given George this gift along with explicit instructions. George had told the class this next part with such a sense of pride it had made Larry sick. George was to only use this tool in the case of an emergency, he has said. In case there was anyone who really needed their nose smashed in.

And now here it was, the brass knuckle. Larry had thought often about it since George had shown it to the class. He had even dreamt about it sometimes. And now here it was before him. Larry’s bladder released, the terror was too great.

More laughter.

“Oh wow look, he peed his pants!” Becky Nurse jeered.
“What was Shark Boy missing the ocean? Needed to get a little wet?” Sam Paterson quickly added.

Over the now tumultuous roar of laughter, Larry could hear Ms. Applesmock yelling in between labored breaths and heavy trudging footsteps for them to break it up, for them to stop what they were doing at once. But she was too late, of course.

“Please just leave me alone” Larry whimpered, now curled resolutely into the fetal position, slowing trying to dig himself further into the dirty wood chipped playground floor.

“Yea, sure, we’ll leave you alone. Right after I teach you a lesson, freak.”

And then suddenly Larry was falling, and all that he could see was white.

Larry woke up several hours later in the hospital. The room was white and bare. Empty apart from Miss Clarence, his foster mother, who now stood before him. Her hands on her hips, she glowered down at him sickeningly. She was a thin woman, frail and delicate. Fair in her features, but cruel in demeanor, she had never married. And so instead of having children of her own, she took in orphans. Kindness was not something that came naturally to Miss Clarence, although one could never say that she did not attend to the needs of her foster children when called upon. For this at least, Larry was grateful.

There were nine other children living in the house with Miss Clarence alongside Larry, each odder and more unusual than the last. There was Neko, a small Mediterranean boy with no eyebrows. Then James, who only ever barked like a dog. Sammy and Sandy, twin girls. They never spoke a word to anyone but each other. There was Robert, who was probably the shortest child Larry had ever seen in his whole entire life. Clouse was nice, but you wouldn’t know that from looking at the massive child. It had taken Larry nearly a month to work up the courage to even look in his direction when he had first arrived. Of course, there was Petunia. It was ironic that she was named a flower, and maybe even a bit unfortunate. The girl had the worst odor to her that Larry had ever smelled in his life. Of course, he would never say that to her. She was very nice, after all. Last but not least there was Chester. Chester had narcolepsy, so he would fall asleep at random times during the day. Miss Clarence was always reminding Chester to look out for sharp corners because he really never would know when he might have an episode. Apart from falling asleep at funny times, Chester was a totally normal kid. He was also Larry’s best friend.

“My God Larry look what that horrible boy did!” Miss Clarence squawked as soon as she had seen that Larry had opened his eyes. The room was very bright, and Larry was forced to squint in order to see. “Your nose Larry, the doctors say that they did their best, but it’s going to be a bit.. different than it was before.”

Larry’s heart sank. Different. Great. More of him that was different. More of him for the kids at school to make fun of. More reason for George to hurt him again. Larry couldn’t contain himself. He began to cry.

“Oh hush now, boy.” Miss Clarence snapped. “You know crying over this won’t do you or me any good.” Larry did his best to stem his tears. Finally, he stuttered out, “Miss Clarence, please, don’t make me go back there.” “Where, that school?” Miss Clarence said with a tone of utmost contempt. “Fine by me, you know how I feel about the whole thing anyway.” Larry felt a wave of relief spread over him. He knew that he had promised Gran that he would try to make friends, but she was gone now, and he just couldn’t do it anymore. Ever since he had moved into the house he had longed to stay home all day with Chester and the other children, to be taught by Miss Clarence the things, as she put it, that were really important in life. And most of all to never see that awful George Peters ever again. Seeing that Larry was satisfied, Miss Clarence placed one cold hand on his forearm, have a surprisingly gentle squeeze, looked him right in the eyes for a moment, got up silently and left Larry to be alone again. Larry knew that he would never be Miss Clarence's favorite, that was Chester of course. But it was still nice to know that she cared, even if just a little bit. Larry closed his eyes. For a moment, he felt like things were finally going to be ok.

---

It had been three weeks since the incident at school, and Miss Clarence had told Larry that today was going to be the day that the bandages were going to come off. Larry was excited. He hated having this stupid cast over his nose, and couldn’t wait to get it off and breath again. Larry knew that his nose would look different, Miss Clarence had reminded him again and again, after all, but he didn’t much care. As long as he never had to go back to that school again, or to see those awful kids again, Larry would be happy. And plus, Chester was here with him. Larry knew that he would be able to handle anything as long as Chester was there by his side.

Standing in front of the mirror, staring back into his own and Chesters anxious faces, Larry began to slowly unwrap his bandage. In order for it to stay on right, the medical gauze had to be wrapped all the way around his head, like some weird kind of hat, or an ugly fake wig. It had been humiliating at first, wearing his cast in public while doing the shopping his Miss Clarence and the rest of the children, but he quickly realized that while in the company of his brothers and sisters, people tended not to stare as much as they did when he was all alone. But now that was all over, and the cast was coming off. Having quickly removed the bandages around his head and ears, Larry’s brief shock of wispy blonde hair that road atop his head was revealed in earnest. It was strange that it had only even grown in on the very top, but to Larry, it seemed pretty normal. Larry’s forehead sloped harshly, at an angle rarely seen in a human being, and his eyes were small and dark. Larry’s teeth are what he hated the most about himself. Crooked and sharp, like a handful of puzzle pieces, or maybe of broken glass. Larry’s Gran had once told him that he looked the way that he did because his mother had been a wicked woman and that she had abused her body when she had carried him inside of her. Larry wasn’t quite sure what that had meant, but he knew enough to know that there was nothing that could be done to fix him now.

Finally, he reached his nose. Pulling the bandages free, Larry and Chester only stared for a time. Finally, Chester spoke playfully. “Well, it really isn’t too bad. I mean, I’ve seen worse.” The two boys looked at one another and then burst out laughing. Really, thank god for Chester, thought Larry as he stared into the eyes of his best friend. Then, glancing back at his now further disfigured visage, he let out a sigh, and he and Chester went outside to play.

---

Finally! It was Saturday night. It had been a long-standing tradition at Miss Clarence’s house, one that had dated back to when she herself was a child, that on the first Saturday of summertime, everyone was to be allowed to go out and to get an ice cream. Regularly such treats were forbidden under Miss Clarence's watch, as she believed that sweets rotted your brain just as much as your teeth, but this day was special. Chester had told Larry all about how last year he had been allowed to get the biggest and best banana split that he had ever seen and that it had been one of the greatest, if not the greatest day of his young life.

And so with those words ringing in his ears, and the promise of a fantastic day ahead of him, Larry along with his foster siblings, piled into Miss Clarence's sedan and off they went to paradise.

And it truly was paradise. The shop was called Edmunds Creamery, and it was fantastic. There were candy and ice cream, and root beer floats and cheeseburgers. Everyone was allowed to get whatever it was that they wanted. Miss Clarence herself even decided to eat a small vanilla cone. Everyone was happy, and everyone was content. In these brief moments of bliss in his life, Larry had always been able to, for a moment, forget who he was. Forget what he was. For these brief moments, Larry was just a boy. Just a normal, happy boy with ice cream.

---

“Bumper boats!” rang out two voiced in unison. It was Sammy and Sandy. It seemed that even they in their glee had broken their cardinal rule. Larry was pretty sure he had even seen Sammy say thank you to the man who had handed her her cone. “Oh wow, I’ve always wanted to try those out..” Spoke Chester from Larry’s side. “But what if you fall asleep.” Larry spoked plainly. “Oh come on man, you’ll watch out for me, won’t you? How many opportunities like this are we going to get, Lar, we should take advantage while we can!”

Chester was always so positive. Larry often wished he could be more like that. Heck, Larry often wished that he could be more like Chester in general. Not just his personality, or his looks, but just the way he was able to talk to people. Everyone always liked Chester, and even if he did fall asleep in front of them, no one ever seemed to mind. Chester always knew what was best, and so Larry decided that they would be fine and that yes, he would look after his friend.

They had to hurry. If Miss Clarence saw them, Larry was sure that there would be trouble. The idea of doing the washing for a day, or cleaning out the toilets made Larry feel sick. But if his friend wanted to ride the bumper boats, then he was going to do everything that he could to make sure that that is what his friend got to do. Finally Chester and Larry, along with Sandy and Sammy silently following at their heels, had arrived. Having skirted the view of Miss Clarence, the four approached the empty line. No one but us four, Larry thought with approval. This was good, the quicker they got this over with the better. The eyes of the man taking Larry’s ten dollar bill hovered for a moment on Larry’s face, taking an extra moment to settle on the jagged, jetsam like mishmash protruding from his gums, but he quickly looked away. Without a hitch, the children were off.

The four of them were having the time of their lives. Sammy and Sandy were taking turns smashing into one another, while Larry and Chester just cruised around, enjoying the feeling of control that they had so rarely in their young lives been able to truly embrace. The look of pure joy on Chesters face as he road that bumper boat had made Larry feel better than he had ever felt before, as far back as he could remember. Even when Gran would sing him songs before he fell asleep he didn't feel this good. This was a different kind of feeling. This was love.

“Oh shit, look, it’s Shark Boy!”

A voice rang out over the small enclosure of water. Larry’s heart sank to his toes. Leaning against the railing was none other than George Peters himself. To his left was Cindy Fedmouse, and to his right was a boy that Larry had never met before. All Larry could do was stare. He had never in his life felt more embarrassed. He hated that name, Shark Boy. To know that Chester knew that that's what people called him, to know that he could now maybe call him that too, made Larry sick.

Larry was dizzy. He could hardly see straight. Without realizing it he had begun to move his boat in the direction of George and his cronies. What he would do when he got to them, he didn’t know. But he was angry. But suddenly George spoke.

“Hey Shark Boy, why don’t you take a swim? It looks like your friend there already jumped in!”

Larry’s face turned pale white. Looking towards Chester's boat, Larry saw that he was gone. All that Larry could think to do was scream. George Peters began to laugh, loud and braying. Sammy and Sandy sat there motionless, silently watching the spot where Chester must have fallen in. The man who had taken Larry and Chester's money had been reading a book under an umbrella near the gate to get into the small pool area. Upon hearing Larry’s shriek he rose to his feet at once.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” The man was shouted. It didn’t take him long to notice Larry's empty boat. “Oh, fuck.” Said the man, and he jumped in.

It had been too long, the doctors had said. Chester's brain had died. There hadn’t been enough oxygen in his body, and so now he was gone. Larry’s only real friend in the world was gone. And it was all his fault.

At first Miss Clarence had said nothing to Larry. Had simply told him to go to his room, what had once been his and Chesters room, and to wait. He had waited in that room, hungry and alone, for what seemed like days. Finally, Miss Clarence arrived. Standing in the door frame, she held a bucket, a mop, and a toothbrush. “Clean,” she said plainly enough. Larry responded quickly. “Clean what?” “Everything.” Miss Clarence responded.

Larry understood. This was meant to be his penance. It was the act of removing dirt that Miss Clarence wanted to see, but the work in doing so. This was a punishment, and Larry took to it like nothing else before. He knew that Chester was gone, and he knew that it had been all his fault. He had told his friend that he would look out for him, and he had failed him. He had failed all of them, Miss Clarence, his foster siblings, and most importantly himself. Larry had never felt more alone in his life than he did after Chester had died. From that day on, Larry Waterborne would never be the same.

---

Larry Waterborne had always been a strange child. After his friend had died, he became something different. For a time Larry refused to eat at meal times, stating that he simply wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t for many months that Miss Clarence had discovered that Larry had been catching and eating wild rats. He had also become prone to spying on his foster siblings. Hardly ever speaking a word to them anymore, but always glancing at them when he felt that they were unaware of his presence. This phase only lasted as long as it took to get Larry into therapy, however. But even then, his troubles were far from over. The rat eating and keyhole peeping gave way to compulsive masturbation as Larry grew in age. Larry began to leer at women on the streets, and even when wearing his largest hat and sunglasses, he was a menacing sight to behold. His lack of luck with women caused Larry to end of dissatisfaction, and this drove him further into the grips of madness. It wasn’t long before Larry began to pull out his own wispy odd hair. Having little to being with, this did nothing to increase his curb appeal and served only as one more thing for Larry to hate about himself, adding one more to an ever growing and already alarmingly long list. And still, through it all, Larry cleaned. It was all that he did anymore. It was really all that he was good at.

By the time he was seventeen most of Larry’s siblings had moved on from Miss Clarence's house. There were more now, younger and louder, and messier. Larry didn’t mind. It had been years since he had spoken to any of those kids anyway. The last time Larry had spoken to any of them had been the day that he had finally worked up the nerve to ask Sammy and Sandy how they could have just stood there while Chester fell in, not saying a word. He had screamed at the sisters. Screamed until he was blue in the face. All that they had done in response was to sit and stare at Larry in silence. But now Larry was becoming a man, and he knew that man had to go out into the world, even if the world didn’t want him. It didn’t take Larry long to find a job cleaning up after hours at a local office park. It was nice. The only other person that was ever around was Emanuele, and he didn’t speak much English anyway, so Larry didn’t have to worry about keeping up with him. And so for a time, Larry worked in relative peace. On his eighteenth birthday he moved out of Miss Clarence's house finally, and with his janitorial wages, he was able to find a small studio apartment for him to live in. It was a lonely life, but as far as Larry was concerned, it was just about as good as it could get. For three years larry cleaned that office building, never seeing a soul who worked there, never speaking to anyone at all apart from the man whom he paid to deliver his necessities. Larry was the consummate shut it. A true expert of the lifestyle. It had been years since Larry had been made fun of, since anyone had stared at his face, or snickered over his hair. Years since he had seen that awful George Peters, or had been called Shark Boy and jeered at. Shark Boy, what a ridiculous nickname. It wasn’t like he even looked much like a shark. But sometimes Larry would wonder. Just sometimes, he would sit in front of the mirror and stare at this features. He would graze his fingers down his sloped forehead, over to his crushed and mangled. He would twirl that short wisp of blonde hair in between his fingers before yanking out a strand or two. He would stare deeply into his own, beady black eyes, and it long and jagged teeth, and he would wonder. He would wonder if maybe he was the Shark Boy after all.

But all of that was insane, of course. Larry knew that he was not a shark, but rather, that he was a man. His therapist Dr. Clifton, who he still saw regularly, reminded him of his whenever the subject was broached. And Larry knew that it was true. And yet still, every once in a while Larry would find himself standing there in front of the mirror staring. And wondering about just who he really was.

It had been Dr. Clifton’s idea for Larry to try and see more people. To become a part of the world again. At first, the idea was anathema to Larry. Even just to see Dr. Clifton every week Larry had to work himself up to it, and he had been seeing this man for years now. But finally the doctor's pokings and proddings had pushed Larry into a corner and he had agreed. Like most therapists who do this kind of work, Dr. Clifton took this relinquishment of control as a small success and ran with it. The doctor had devised a plan for Larry. That he was to apply to clean the office in which he worked not during the night shift, but instead during the day. This would mean the job would be nearly the same. A lot of trash removal, some bathroom maintenance. Nothing Larry couldn’t handle. Besides, of course, for the fact that there would now be other people. Larry was terrified, but deep down he really did trust Dr. Clifton, and if he said that this was a good idea, then Larry would at least give it a shot.

---

And Dr. Clifton had been right. It had been ok. At first, some of the men and women in the office building looked at Larry strangely. Larry had steeled himself for this, and he had waited for the insults to follow, but somehow, they never did. When Larry asked a woman to please hand him her trash can, she did not laugh and chant “Shark Boy, Shark Boy” as Larry might have expected her to do, but instead, she handed him her trash can, no more to it than that. What a fantastic relief it had been to Larry to these people didn’t hate him. There had even been a few of them with whom Larry had begun to think of as his friends. Somehow things seemed to be turning around in a way Larry had never imagined possible. Less and less during these months had Larry stood in front of that mirror and stared into his own haunting reflection. Less and less has Larry thought about “Shark Boy.” It was one of the happiest times in Larry’s short life.

It was about five months after Larry had begun working the day shift that she had started working in the office. Rosie Mcdonald. No one would ever call Rosie beautiful. She was a massive woman, at least four hundred pounds, and her left foot had been lost to diabetes years prior. She smelled faintly of mothballs and body odor, and yet, she was kind. Larry had fallen in love with her at first sight.

It took him weeks to work up the courage to approach her, and when he finally did, his knees were shaking so badly that he could hardly stand. She was older than him, at least ten years his senior, but she didn’t act like it. When Larry had first struck up a conversation, telling her that he needed to clean around her computer screen, she giggled like a schoolgirl, groaned, and slowly lumbered out of Larry’s way. Smiling she said, “Go right ahead handsome.” Larry’s face turned beet red. He could feel the heat of it swirling up, off of his skin. Upon noticing this Rosie laughed again, but sweetly. Not like the laughter of George Peters on that fateful day so long ago, but like the sound of a wind chime in a gentle, please. It was just, nice.

From that day on Larry had made sure to speak to Rosie at least once a day, and never about the same thing twice. Soon enough, the two had struck up what Larry considered to be a real friendship, and just maybe, something more.

---

It was a Thursday when it happened. Larry had come into work feeling fine. In the parking lot was a large truck with the same name on the side of it that the vending machines inside the office carried on their own faces. “Oh, good.” Thought Larry cheerfully. “There will be more of those apple pies that Rose loves.” Larry, excited to great his friend with a tasty gift, hurried along inside. Bearing right as soon as he entered the building, Larry headed towards the vending machine. To his surprise, Rosie was already there. For a moment Larry was upset, having been robbed the chance to be the one to give Rosie her pie, but then the moment passed, and he was just happy to see her.

“Hey, Rose, how are you today?” Larry called. But there was no response. “Rose?” Spoke Larry a second time. Still nothing. Finally noticing the third man in the corner for the first time, Larry gave a start. “Oh, sorry Rose, I didn’t think that anyone else was in he-”

“Shark Boy? No shit, it is you! How the fuck you been, man?” George Peters voice boomed out. The same name that adorned the truck outside and these machines sat now too upon the chest of Larry’s greatest fear.

“Shark Boy? Oh, wow... Yea, he kind of does look like a shark, doesn’t he?” And then in a stage whisper to George, “The guy’s a bit of a freak, you know.” It was Rose. The two stood there staring at Larry, and after a moment Rose began to giggle. That sweet wind chime laugh, and how Larry had loved it. But oh how sickly it sounded now. For a moment all Larry could do was stand there. He was frozen. Frozen in his sadness, frozen in his rage, frozen in his terror, all Larry could think to do was scream.

And so he screamed. He screamed until he was blue in the face. And when George told him to shut the fuck up, that he was freaking the lady out, it happened.

“Shark Boy, Shark Boy.” The words rang endlessly in Larry Waterbornes head. His jagged, jigsaw teeth bit down, again and again into George Peters flabby uncared for flesh. He tasted rotten. Larry was sure Rose would taste much better. He would find out soon enough. Shark Boy looked over at her, now laying flat on the floor where he had pushed her. He knew that there was no way she would be able to get up herself, as fat as she was. Slowly his began to lick his lips. George was dead now, and there wasn’t much worth in continuing to eat something that tasted so foul. Shark Boy arose from the floor, blood matting his clothes, smeared on his face, flesh dangling from his ramshackle teeth. Rose began to scream. Shark Boy could hear footsteps in the hallway now, coming closer and closer every second. If he didn’t start now, he didn’t know how much he would get. And he was hungry. For a moment Rose’s screams reached a fever pitch, louder than ever as Shark Boys jaws clamped firmly onto her throat. But before long it was over. All that there was left to do - was eat.

Hey Reader, thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed my story. If you did, please consider following me for more soon! - Matt Munsey

Image taken from Pixabay