WALT:Create a found poem.

Shark Attack   

    Tommy tapped Beck and me on the shoulders and motion for us to move away from the bloody pirate fast.

    Blood in the water is never a good thing.

    It attracts sharks.

   In fact, two of them appeared at of the murky darkness and started circling Laird, who swam into a tight cluster with his remaining “brohas”. None of them were aiming their spear guns or knives at anyone. They were too focused on the toothy sharks, whose keen sense of smell had just announced that it was dinnertime.

   That’s when Storm cranked up The Lost’s engine and sent our propellers spinning till they were churning up foam like underwater Weedwackers. She must’ve yanked the throttle into reverse, because the boat suddenly lunged backward, the propeller blades aimed right at the pirate cluster.
   (I don’t think Storm liked being called Shamu or Chubba-Wubba)

   The panicked pirates backed off the stern of our ship, retreating maybe twenty yards so they could deal with the sharks without getting sliced to pieces.