Write a short biography of a wheezing explorer who swims with sharks.
Jacques Cousteau. Daniel Boone. Captain Jean Luc Picard. Their rugged and steadfast dedication to exploring the unknown has inspired countless brave souls to follow in their legendary footsteps.
But in the annals of human history, there is none greater than George Francisco.
George didn't fit the profile of a legendary explorer. His doughy form and diminutive stature hardly inspired confidence. And the asthma! Oh, his ability to breathe was not at all adequate! Yet George had an ambition that would require superhuman bravery and skill. George Francisco wished to document the world of sharks.
First-hand.
They called him a fool! George, you don't have the training or the equipment! You don't even have a boat!
So what.
On a warm July morning, before the glut of tourists swarmed the beach, George hauled a bucket of chum to the end of the 7th street pier. Sharks were known to congregate around the thick wooden beams, drawn by the fish looking for dropped morsels of food. As the water ran red, George took a gallant leap into ocean below.
And broke both of his legs.
No matter! Legs aren't required for swimming. All the better to blend in with the toothy clan he sought to join.
There, a fin! It glides across the surface to George, who is using his pliable hanging arm fat as oars to propel him swiftly through surf. Rugged skin and keen black eyes welcome him to the misunderstood realm of the shark. Again and again, they brush against him. At last, George's life was complete! All of his dreams were fulfilled! Casting aside his frail humanity, George became one with the hungry sea.
They ate him, is what I'm saying. He was a fat guy who was dumb and he got eaten by some sharks. That's the joke.
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