Many TVs in the greater New York area were having their regularly scheduled programs disrupted by an emergency alert sound, broken by a news broadcast. On the screen was Christine Everhart, WHIH's lead anchor woman, flawlessly ready for her close up. And some awards for best news broadcast.
"We have breaking news. We're recieving reports of atmospheric disturbances over various parts of Manhattan, Queens, and Brooklyn. Camera crews are racing to set up on the scene throughout the city. In the meantime, we have lead reporter Reed Wright with us by phone. We'll have visuals shortly. Reed, can you describe what you're seeing right now?"
"Christine, I'm two blocks away from the news building in Lower Manhattan. Moments ago we could see these...uhh...they looked little black holes in the sky opening up. I thought it was another alien invasion, but now it looks more like a freaky storm. Wait. There's tornadoes coming down from the sky! I see one right now! There's...I think there's things inside them?"
"Things?" Behind the news desk, Christine Everhart looked appropriately shocked while staring right at the camera. Translation: her reaction looked like it was forged from plastic at the Bad Acting factory. "What kind of things?"
"I think it's...wait, are those fish? There's fish in there!"
"Fish? Um, I think we need to check with our meteorologist, Candy Turner, to see if this is a normal phenomenon. Candy?"
"Uhhhh, Christine? I really don't think there's time to let Candy talk...this is heading right for us!"
"Oh, you did not just interrupt me," responded Christine, with the fakest smile ever to let that mister know that he needed to be excused. She looked off to one side. "CANDY?"
Resembling Weather Girl Barbie, complete with a form-fitting pink dress, Candy Turner had the sort of superficial smile that could only be described as blindingly white.
"Well Christine? I happen to know that sometimes super big storms can totally in fact, pick up all sorts of lil' critters. Like frogs or birds or even fishies! Then, because they've got these big up draft thingies, those lil' critters get thrown around like, soooo many miles away. I don't think anyone needs to be alarmed over a few little fishies..."
Candy is interrupted by the sound of breaking glass, immediately followed by people screaming behind the cameras.
"THOSE AREN'T FISH!!" said one of those screaming voices.
"Oh my god! Oh my god! It's sharks!" someone else screamed over them. Frantically. It wasn't hard to imagine that their arms were flapping around. Hopefully not anywhere near a shark's mouth, or it would soon be a bloody stump.
The news station quickly switches to a shaky camera feed of a New York street corner, showing people scattering in every direction. They are all running from what was once a quaint French bistro. There, just inside the broken windows and twisted wrought iron, a very large shark is angrily turning tables and chairs into splinters.
Reed's normally perfectly quaffed hair is not perfectly quaffed as he blocks the view with his face and screams, "I told you! Screw you, Everhart! You super mega beeeeyaaaaatch!"
Mic still on, Christine Everhart could be heard shrieking like a banshee back at him. "Go to hell, Reed! I hope that shark bites you right on the....!"
The breaking news cast cuts to a WHIH news logo on the screen. It is followed by another high pitched emergency alert signal. The scrolling onscreen instructions remind viewers to stay indoors, away from all windows or glass doorways.