Pete

Off the port bow a whale shark broke the surface, polka dots streaming through the water. “You got a plankton lure?” chuckled Betty. Harold rustled through his tackle box, confused. “Plankton! What the hell’s that mean, anyway?” he grumbled. “It’s real small,” she offered. “Brine shrimp size, Number 14 hook.” She up-ended her Corona, tossed the bottle toward the head of the 30-foot leviathan. It landed with a splash.