Next Mystery Installment. I ought to think of a title for this...

(Reference two blogs ago for previous story.)

(Or, y'know, don't.)

The public transportation was, as to be expected, chaotic. To say the least.

After waiting 22 minutes for a bus (only to be kicked off when I had a ten dollar bill, opposed to coins) I hailed a cab. I then proceeded to sit behind a putrid, taco-meat-head of a man, eventually totaling $17.43. I reached the aquarium.

A $5.00 entrance fee. I began adding the figures as I passed orange and white carp. If I buy a Diet Coke for $1.75, I'll be $5.82 away from a very regrettable vacation. At this point, I began yearning for a cigarette.

An eel poked it's mossy bearded face out from inside a rock. I thought he seemed to grin, and immediately proceeded onwards.

Crabs and lobsters. Oh boy, perhaps it would have been cheaper to go to Red Lobster, and more efficient. Then I recalled that nothing was cheaper than Red Lobster.

I arrived at the mammals section, passing little girls fawning over the otters and squishing their faces onto the dolphin's glass enclosure. I wondered how much bacteria they were facially ingesting, and hurried out.

A concession stand stood at an intersection of exhibits. Gratefully, I took out my wallet to purchase a drink.

"That'll be $2.50 sir."

Dammit.

I continued to a dark entranceway. Immediately I detected the changed mood. While the mammals had housed wide hallways and soft lighting, and the fishes had been lit with fluorescent lights to make them appear more exotic, the light in here came only from the tanks.

I headed towards the light, narrowly avoiding a waste-bin hidden in the waves of pitch-black.

Approaching the glass, I recognized the figure of a Bull shark. His glassy beetle eyes swept over mine for a second, and then he had gone, his massive fin propelling him forward.

What a ghastly thing.

The sight of him made me cringe. I steered my feet the way he had left, arriving at the next plane of glass as he whipped out of sight.

I followed him around a corner, entering a long unoccupied hallway, except for one man. One plain man, staring up at the shark I was chasing. Clenched in his hand was a briefcase.

Passing along the corridor, I halted where my view was phenomenal, several feet away from the man. I took a sip of my $2.50 Diet Coke, and realized I would have to factor out todays pay from my monthly budget. I searched my pockets for my cigarettes.

Putting one in my mouth and gazing up at the aquatic animal, I racked my pockets for a light. Shit.

"Beg your pardon," I said to the man, befuddling my words with the cigarette still perched between my lips, "have you got a light?"

He turned his head towards me, and I bit down on my cigarette, shocked by his false eye that reminded me so much of the shark's.

"No, I only carry matches." His voice was rich, he seemed to emphasize each word.

"That will do," I replied, pulling a fresh one out of the carton. I approached him, and for a moment our faces glowed red as he raised the match towards my face.

"You know you can't smoke in here." I glanced throughout the hall for a sign dictating it.

"I'll plead ignorance." He extended his hand.

"Franklin Turne." I gave him my business card. "An accountant. How are you enjoying that?" It was a question, but he didn't really seem to be asking.

My teeth crushed together as I smiled at him.

"Very well, Mister Turne. The economic crisis is within check with the proper accountant. If you'd be interested-"

"I assure you my kind gentleman, I will not. Not a slight on your account, of course."

I wondered if he was joking with me, using the word 'account.' I kept my smile on just in case.

"Of course, of course." I cooed the words through my grin. He looked into the shark tank. I snuck a glance at his briefcase. Expensive, hand-made, and embossed with his name.

Mr. Turne turned to me, and said, jerking his head towards the beast, "What do you think of them?"

"The sharks, you mean?" I was having trouble meeting that glass eye.

"Yes, yes, who else?" he demanded. His moustache momentarily quivered above his lip.

"They're..." I searched my brain for a neutral adjective, "intricate."

"Intricate?" His true eye widened, and then he let out a boisterous laugh. He thumped me on the back, and I felt awkward. "You," he wheezed, "make for a fine accountant."