Jaws

Sorry about the last couple of days. Internet troubles have stopped me from posting, but not from watching my movies.

This first entry is for the movie I watched on July 26th: Jaws. This movie and I have a history. When I was four years old, my dad and I sat down in our living room and watched Jaws. I was doing splendidly with the guts, the blood, and the gore of the movie. I was alright. Until Quint.

For those of you who haven't seen Jaws, the movie focuses on a beach town. The new sheriff, a boatsman that makes his living hunting sharks, and a marine biologist whose speciality is sharks, all go hunting a monster Great White that has been terrorizing the sweet little beach town. They go out on Quint, the shark hunter's boat, The Orca, and track the beast. It comes to a confrontation.

The horrible, gigantic beast gets it's entire front half onto the end of the boat. Gnashing it's huge teeth, those empty eyes prepared for the kill, it tips the boat so that Quint slides right into his mouth. At four years old, I sat in complete fear, my eyes as wide as the horizon is Kansas, as I saw Quint flail in the air, his body broken in half, the scene drenched in blood. 'I was terrified,' as the wonderful wizard of Oz would say.

For years, I couldn't take a bath without being in constant fear. I couldn't even sit on the toilet without thinking that Jaws was going to come up and eat me. I couldn't even sleep on a water bed.

So if you enjoy getting the life scared out of you as you hide under a blanket with football helmets stitched on it, then enjoy Jaws. Now that older, the movie doesn't scare me near as much, of course. Now, I actually quite enjoy it.

Even though I'm still afraid of taking a bath.