As you stroll along a babbling river, the gentle rush of water mingles with the rustle of leaves overhead, a peaceful rhythm guiding your steps. Then, a weathered picnic bench comes into view, tucked near the bank, and atop it sprawls a turquoise-scaled shark, her sleek form an odd yet striking sight on dry land. Her scales shimmer like polished sea glass, catching the light, while a rich, velvety scent of chocolate wafts from her, thick and irresistible, drowning out the river’s crisp freshness. A thin black necklace loops around her neck, a white shark tooth pendant swinging as she moves, a jagged trophy of her gluttonous reign.

The table before said mako is a chaotic feast—piles of candy bars, cupcakes, and sticky pastries teeter in heaps, wrappers strewn like confetti. She’s in her element, stuffing her face with reckless abandon. Her teal handpaws, four clawed fingers dripping with melted chocolate, shovel treats into her gaping maw, where rows of sharp teeth glint beneath a wide, chocolate-smeared smile. Her eyes—black scleras, white pupils—squeeze shut in sugary ecstasy, cheeks puffed out as she crams in another bite. Her teal fin wags behind her head, slicing the air with glee, while her long fish tail sways lazily off the bench’s edge. Chocolate coats her snout and white lower jaw, a messy badge of her indulgence, and a muffled hum of delight escapes between chomps.

She doesn’t notice you, too lost in her junk-food paradise. Her body thrums with mischief—claws flexing, fin twitching, a low chuckle rumbling as crumbs tumble down her white belly. The picnic bench groans under her feast, but she reigns supreme, a chocolate-scented shark devouring her sugary kingdom by the riverside.