A tiny shark means big trouble.

Source : http://www.highlightskids.com/Stories/Fiction/F0796_faxAttack.asp...


Jodie gasped. Slowly she backed away from the desk.Jodie sat cross-legged on her father’s desk, sipping iced tea as she gazed out at the beach. “Come on!” she begged the facsimile machine beside her.


A shrill ring pierced the air. Jodie sighed. It was the telephone, not the fax line.


“Meet me at the pier in ten minutes,” said her best friend, Brian.


“I can’t. I’m stuck here until Dad’s fax comes in.” Jodie popped an ice cube from her glass into her mouth.


“The machine will take the call. You don’t have to be there.”


“I know,” mumbled Jodie. “But Dad said the fax is last-minute changes for the cover of his new book. He wants me to call his editor as soon as it gets here.”


“Is this the one about killer bacteria hitchhiking to Earth on the space shuttle?” scoffed Brian. “Your dad comes up with weird stories.”


Jodie laughed. Of course her dad’s books were strange. He wrote science fiction. But Brian only liked things that could be proven scientifically.


Just then the glass Jodie was holding slipped through her fingers. Iced tea poured over the fax machine, and ice cubes bounced everywhere. “Hold on!” yelled Jodie. She dropped the telephone and scooted off the desk.


Armed with towels from the hall closet, Jodie mopped up the spill. She picked up the phone. “Sorry. I gave the fax a bath.”


“You’re going to be grounded for a year!” said Brian.


“It’s OK. I dried it.”


“If the insides are wet, it won’t work.”


Jodie groaned. She would probably be grounded for life. “Try faxing me something from your dad’s machine.”


Jodie spent forever on hold. Finally, the fax line rang. With a click and a beep, the machine started to whir.


“Did it work?” asked Brian, returning to the phone.


Jodie gasped. Slowly, she backed away from the desk until the telephone cord wouldn’t stretch any farther.


“Awesome picture, huh?” continued Brian. “You should see it in color. Great whites can rip you to shreds.”


A great white shark slid out of the fax machine. Jagged teeth filled its gaping mouth. With one final thrust of its tail, the six-inch shark flopped onto the desk.


She had to get the shark  in water-fast!“It’s alive!” screamed Jodie.


“Yeah, right.”


The shark quit thrashing; it lay still, gasping for air. “It can’t breathe!” Jodie cried.


“Very funny,” said Brian. “I think you’ve been reading too many of your dad’s books.”


“Fine,” snapped Jodie, “don’t believe me. But suppose you tell me what I should do with it. You’re the shark expert.”


The phone was silent. Then Brian whispered, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”


“Yes!”


“Unbelievable! The science world is going to flip. I’ll bring over my aquarium––”
“The poor thing is dying,” interrupted Jodie.


“Oh, man, don’t let it! There are no great whites in captivity. Put it in water. Seawater.”


Again Jodie dropped the phone. She grabbed the shark. Rows of razor-sharp teeth sank into her finger. “Ow!” She shook her hand, and the shark plopped back onto the desk. Ignoring the droplets of blood forming on her finger, Jodie picked up the shark by its tail and raced out of the office.


She grabbed a bowl from the kitchen, then bolted out the door and ran across the sandy beach.


Jodie scooped up water with the bowl and plunked the shark into it. The shark slowly started swimming in circles.


Back in the house, Jodie set down the bowl and picked up the phone. “Brian, are you there?”


“Is it alive?” Brian sounded worried.


“Yes,” replied Jodie. “But next time, fax me something cute like . . . Oh no! Dad’s fax will be here any minute.”


Brian chuckled. “Wait until he finds a miniature shuttle on his desk!”


“What if the space germs come with it?” Jodie bit her lower lip. It would be her fault if the world were wiped out.


“No way. That’s only a story.”


“Sharks don’t come through fax machines either.”


“Uh, well,” Brian stammered, “unplug the machine.”


“I can’t. It runs on batteries.” Jodie tried to turn off the machine, but the switch was stuck. She yanked at the battery cover—it was stuck, too.


Jodie thought for a moment. “Fax me some sponges. I need to dry the insides.”


“Sponges won’t feed through my machine.”


“No, but grocery store ads came in today’s mail,” said Jodie. “Sponges are on sale this week.”


“Hang on.” Brian didn’t sound convinced.


Moments later, tiny blue and green sponges popped out of Jodie’s machine. She picked up one and squeezed the liquid out of it. Good, she thought. They’re absorbing the tea.


"It's starting to dry!"Brian came back on the phone. “Any luck?”


The fax machine jammed before she could reply. Jodie pulled out half a sponge—and the machine ejected a damp picture of the other half. “It’s starting to dry!” she yelled as the machine stopped whirring.


Suddenly the fax line rang again. “Brian! Dad’s fax is coming in.”


The space shuttle emerged, its nose tinged with fungus. Jodie collapsed into her father’s chair. “We did it! The machine’s faxing pictures again.”


“Ahhh,” groaned Brian. “I should’ve faxed a dinosaur. Can you imagine having a pet tyrannosaur?”


Jodie looked at her wounded finger. “Guess you’ll have to settle for a shark. Better take good care of it. It’s going to be a star.”


“In one of your dad’s books?”


“Sure,” replied Jodie. “Dad can write a book called Fax Attack.”