You're the salty but kindhearted lawman of an idyllic Long Island resort town in the mid-70s.
More Than a Feeling is blaring from AM radios. The summer tourist crush is unfolding. Main Street is satiated, and waves of jaunty visitors are having the times of their lives.
Then the bodies start piling up.
It could be a horrifying, gender-confused psychopath. Or a gang of motorcycle riding, machete-wielding toughs. Or even a creature from beyond, hell bent on making planet Earth its own wanton reproductive playground.
What's your next move, Chief Brody?
You want Denny's advice? Take a quick peek under the water. And I don't mean at the coquettish bikinis painted on the ample-bosomed enchantresses frequenting Amity's beaches.
I'm talking about a whole new brand of dorsal-finned horror.
Something that scientists in 2010 are now calling a "Shark."
Godspeed,
Denny DelVecchio
More Than a Feeling is blaring from AM radios. The summer tourist crush is unfolding. Main Street is satiated, and waves of jaunty visitors are having the times of their lives.
Then the bodies start piling up.
It could be a horrifying, gender-confused psychopath. Or a gang of motorcycle riding, machete-wielding toughs. Or even a creature from beyond, hell bent on making planet Earth its own wanton reproductive playground.
What's your next move, Chief Brody?
You want Denny's advice? Take a quick peek under the water. And I don't mean at the coquettish bikinis painted on the ample-bosomed enchantresses frequenting Amity's beaches.
I'm talking about a whole new brand of dorsal-finned horror.
Something that scientists in 2010 are now calling a "Shark."
Godspeed,
Denny DelVecchio