Jumping the shark

The scooter climbs the back of the wave as it rises, and the rider can clearly be heard yelling: "WAAAAAHOOOOOOOO!" as the vehicle lofts over the crest and arches through the air, toward the beach. He's safely past the dorsal fin within a few seconds. But as he starts to descend, still about one hundred yards out near a coral reef, a pair of jet black barbed tentacles wicker outward from the bottom of the wave as it begins to foam and collapse toward shore. The first tentacle snaps itself around the suddenly writhing hulk of a 20-foot-long black shark, which is lifted from the water and flung blithely toward the hoveryacht, clunking against the upper hull before it falls, thrashing, back into the sea. The second tentacle punches through the scooter rider's back, bursting a bloody hole through his muscle-shirt. He's yanked, shrieking, off the scooter, which keeps going through its arc while the rider is pulled back - oh-so-rapidly - into the roiling tumult of the fallen wave. A smear of blood is all that remains as evidence of the rider, save for the scooter itself, which putters on the shore and then goes silent.