While you’re scuba diving and the Daddy of all honeycomb moray eels comes to give you a spot of oceanic nuzzling; you’d better give some back. This 4.3m monster cunningly hides away and shoots out and smothers unsuspecting scuba divers… with nothing but love and tenderness. If you don’t know about it; you’ll come close to blowing a hole through the back of your wetsuit. Ask me, I was set up by the DM (Dive Master). Bastard, I still owe you one.
After realising the moray eel isn’t squeezing the life out of me, I manage to move my trapped hand and start stroking its underbelly. Why? I have absolutely no idea. It just seems like the thing to do, at the time. It feels softer than the softest silk I have ever touched. In an instant it releases its not-so-tight grip on me. It slithers around me a couple of times and then shots back into its hole.
‘Shit! Hell, did you guys see that?’ I think to myself spinning around looking for the rest of the scuba diving group; they’re all curled-up in the hysterical laughter position – a mass of bubbles flowing freely from their regulator exhaust valves. I show every not-in-any-scuba-diving-manual hand-sign.