Pinhead tightens his grip on the handles. The California sun was scorching today and his pale, dead scalp was already burning in sweet agony. Water mists his head, spit up from the boat ahead pulling him along. To a being who lives for torture, whose very existence is defined by a quest to push the boundaries of human experience through pain, such simple pleasures were a torment all their own.

He breathed in deeply, the toxic refreshment of the clean air and the deliciousness of the boat’s exhaust swirling together in his decaying lungs. Gazing lazily at the shore, Pinhead noticed that the once small crowd of people had grown, and their cheers grew louder. “Who were these pathetic monkeys to judge me?”, he thought contemptuously. He deeply resented the situation he found himself in. Oh, what wondrous things he had to show the man who dared to solve the puzzle box at a Los Angeles beach. Such wondrous, horrible delights. Relaxation and amusement were to him just boredom, but boredom allowed the mind to wander. He always came up with the most harrowing torments while he did menial tasks.

Today, however, was not about exploring the rich tapestry of suffering the soul could endure. No, he had much more pressing matters - a challenge to his character that must be answered. Some putrid child, some spineless maggot, some **jabroni** had called him a coward. He said - in front of everyone - that Pinhead could not jump an obstacle on water skis. Such reproach cannot be allowed to escape unimpeached, but must be completely destroyed. After all, who would want to open the puzzle box of a “whiney crybaby square”, as it was so crudely put? To obliterate all doubt, Pinhead must jump the most dangerous and exciting obstacle of them all - a shark.