Jaws- Part 1 and 2 (complete work)

To the readers:
I'd just like to warn you that certain stories are vehicles for terrible, terrible puns. Most of the stories are serious or at least attempting to be. Those that aren't? Will have a warning tag. This here is the warning. BEWARE OF PART TWO!

Dedicated to the Penguin- the only way I could make Jaws 'FUNNY' was with Tillsbury.

Additional Note: For proper acoustics, tribal mer songs should be sung in the bathtub with your head underwater. If you want them to sound 'authentic', I suggest you dislocate your jaw.

Part One:
The bestial roar of triumph echoed across the bleak miles of ocean, as the massive predator breached the ocean, its prey clenched tightly in its jaws. The weight of its prey meant that the merman hung in the air for several seconds before arcing back into the water. The unfortunate shark bucked wildly, but to no avail. The razor-like teeth of the merman sunk savagely into its prey's flesh. The shark finally stopped struggling and hung limp in the merman's jaws. The merman, seeing that its meal was assured, arrogantly let loose of its prey and roared again, the sonic echoes asserting its dominance in its territory.

Part Two:
The Food Chain of the Ocean
In the oxygen rich waters of Av'rit, sharks are not predators, as they were in the waters of Earth, but prey to the native humanoids. These humanoids, despite their resemblance to those of Earth, recognize no bonds of kinship. And for this reason alone, those humans who research the marine life of Av'rit do not always come back.

Currently in the submersile pod of the submarine Belaquec lab, approximately 120 helotecs from the sea surface! A relaxing holiday after the slums of Marresh. Besides me is Professor Montessery. In the submersile, the Eignere's a nervous wreck, puffing one cigarillo after another. She's smoking all of us to lung cancer, but then we just witnessed a mer breaching- the same mer that ate her husband. A smokescreen against what happened earlier today can hardly be begrudged the poor thing.
Several technicians are still recuperating from the loss suffered by the mer breach- an entire monitoring station gone with the physical operating systems, as well as 2.64 terabytes worth of data. Their colleagues are attempting to console them, but such hertz rarely fade when those who suffer love their art. I only hope that they find hobbies to distract them from their grief. Go Phish was suggested by a friend, who found the whole thing inordinately amusing. Apparently it's a computer game of some sort. Perhaps some sort of cyber solitaire?
Anyway, a few scientists have left for the lower labs, claiming that security here is substandard. With their arrogance and shady experiments... cons descending, the lot of them. Afterall, we are already accompanied by a bevy of the best armed forces in the ocean-but even highly trained Marines are no match for mers (which have 4 sets of dislocatable jaws to snap sharks in two).
I suggested simply avoiding these predators, but I was met with nothing but sargassum from my piers in the expedition (some of which have left this morning. Hurrah!). Caution in dealing with megapredators is hardly uncalled for; their pointy and hurtful remarks only served to showcase their own shortcomings.
That said, being immersed in oceanic Av'rit has been truly wonderful. Despite the abyssmal equipment of underwater Belaquec, I couldn't help but feel buoyed up by the wealth of information on the subterrean treches of Velua. In particular, the cheering discovery this morning of the oceanic mountains 6.84 arc seconds north of the r. prime (as desginated by the Observatory Royal of Mantua Loa). You may imagine our relief at finding the topography.
But now I must attend a conference concerning the missing data. If I miss one lecture again I shall be lectured by Eignere Veran, and her byte's as bad as her bark.

~ Professor Tillsbury, Dracologian of the Palace Royal, Mantua Loa. March. 1804.