It’s terrible to be dragged underneath the lily pads by mermaids when you were only trying to drink from a cool pond.
It’s even worse when the mermaids throw you back on shore uneaten, making cutting comments.
“Why would we eat someone with a haircut like that?”
“Go try some other pond to drink from with your earthworm lips. Go on and WALK there, Legs.”
“Spend another year eating pastries then come on back, skinny.”
C’mon. I can drown as well as anyone. I could be torn apart by sharp little teeth, my bones drifting down into the soft mud floor of a pond.
Give me a shot. Give me a chance.