Summer Gardens Mobile Village

The last thing you remember was sitting on the outside couch kicking back with a six pack of light beer. Zeke had done fixed you up with some free cable and Dale Jr. was in his final lap coming into turn 4, just getting ready to make his move. That’s when you heard the rumble and saw the brown wall of water demolishing Georgina’s double wide as it rushed your way!

Now, you come to, finding yourself gasping for air and grabbing your cooler that happened to be floating by, wondering if your beer was ok and where the heck did all this water come from? That’s when something bumps against your legs under the murky water. You see a shark’s fin pop up about twenty feet away and you know it’s go time.

You struggle to swim and save your beer at the same time. Luckily your neighbor’s Christmas lights were still up from a few years ago and a strand is floating near you. If you can just reach it and pull yourself up on the top of his mobile home you’ll be good to go, bro.

After pulling yourself up on the roof, which is now only inches away from the top of the water, you pop the top of your last beer and guzzle it down while taking in all the carnage. The trailer park is flooded and full of sharks! What in Sam Hill?!

You hear the screams of your neighbors as they get devoured by sharks and see a few that escaped death by climbing trees, shimmying up telephone poles or like you, swimming to the top of a trailer home.

Now you gotta figure out how to get out of this mess. You need to find out what happened, especially where did all these sharks come from? But first things first … you’re out of beer. Aww hell, time to kick some shark tail!

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That was one person's start. Our story starts in the middle of the action. A wall of water has swamped your home, Summer Gardens Mobile Village.

Youre in trouble. You're in the water, and none of your supports (beer) are near you. Let's start with each of you describing your 'parker and how the flood flooded your little world.

El Diablo Fuego was sitting on the sofa when the water came. The wall of water, the thundering brown froth that slammed into mobile homes, turned over wheel-less cars and carried away prized yard fridges. It was a deadly torrent, filled with dirt bike parts, glass, empty beer cans, empty bottles of Jaeger, porch guns, butterfly knives, nunchucks, tighty whities and all sorts of other loose items commonly found in trailer parks. The would-be wrestler never saw it coming.

Dave had dropped out of high school to focus on his dream after he hit his growth spurt as a junior. Adopting the personae of El Diablo Fuego, the enormous young man had unsuccessfully pursued a career as a Luchador, a fighter and wrestler specializing in the esteemed and very real and serious sport of lucha libre. The man lived and breathed the stuff, never taking off his mask, never breaking character... never bothering to get a job or try and get a girlfriend. He was too busy for these things, too close to seizing the moment, the prize.

And so it was he was sitting in front of a big screen TV with a crack running down the middle of it when the water hit. One hand down his red tights, he was eating a cheez-whiz sandwich and watching his favorite GLOW video when his world turned upside down.

"What is happening?!" he cried as his father's trailer rocked and then turned over, throwing the wrestler against the wall like it was a turnbuckle. Then he was upside down, and his sandwich was lost. "For El Diablo Fuego, this is baffling!"

Nasty-ass water poured in, and soon enough he was taking a breath and swimming for the door. When his masked head broke the surface outside he saw just what had befallen the park -- and all the fins!

"Oh my God!" he growled in his fake accent, "Not just one shark, but a whole pod!"

Now, treading water, the man looks around for other survivors, for Mexican maidens to save, and for dry land.

"JOOOOOOOOOOOO-WEEEEE!" An old timer calls out in exclamation, as the murky waters surge in from the broken levy.

Crawdad, as those in these here parts know the cantankerous old cuss, retired cajun shrimper, has only finished a fresh boil and wus settling into his lawn chair with a cold one, a heap of hot boiled mudbugs, and the latest copy of BIG UNs when the wave hits. "Wat we do got here?" He wonders as the vision of bonefide prodigious tatas is swept out of his aging gnarled hand and vanishes in the torrent. His lawn chair rides in the sudden surge like a trailer trash surfboard until colliding with the side of his mobile abode and sending the old man into the dirty waters.

Not since The Kat has he seen such a swell and it takes him back to the moments in the hurricane that had swamped his boat for good and nearly cost him his life. He grabs onto the door of his trailer and takes a big gulp of his brew for courage, before the can is torn from his hand. "Consarnit! Dis here is gittin' under my craw!"

The door is ripped open by the old man's weight and the force of the muddy waters. He barely manages to swing into the open maw of aluminum and rust before the tie-downs give and the whole kit and kaboodle goes sailing in the current. Wiping his long grey hair, what he's got left from the receding hairline and brushing down the full growth on his jaw and chin, Crawdad holds on fer dear life.

Vern's 60 inch TV somehow managed to fit in his rusty old trailer. He had picked it up on the side of the road on the very rare occasion he found himself in the rich folks' neighborhood, and that was only because he was lost. No doubt the previous owner had traded up. The glorious freebie was strategically placed so that he could gaze out his dirty window without even moving his head. That proved to be a good move on his part as the milliseconds he saved by immediately seeing the rising filthy tide just outside, likely saved him from being swept away or instantly drowned.

"Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit," he shouts, hardly believing his eyes. Faster than a knife fight in a phone booth, he grabs a few scraps of doodads from a pile of junk on the excuse for a coffee table, including his half-full dented beer can. Lunging through the perpetually open window, knocking over the TV set on the way out, he curses and manages to shimmy up onto the roof of the tin coffin because he's wiry and almost athletic. His mouth agape, and his eyes wider with surprise, he sees the others looking fearfully at the water and hears the scream of others.

"Sharks? Holy hell! I ain't drunk. I only had four beers!" Vern looks around frantically for an overhanging tree branch because his trailer won't be remaining where it is for much longer. He can already feel it getting light as it gets buffeted by the onrushing water and maybe a shark or two looking for another meal. "I ain't jumpin' in there neither, he whines to no one in particular.

Cletus had started the morning off with his normal Saturday routine. With his mom already gone to her waitress job, the kid poured himself a big bowl of frosted flakes that spilled over onto the corner when the milk was added which he didn't bother to clean up before plopping down to watch his favorite cartoon. That was before his big sister's stupid boyfriend showed up and kicked him out of the trailer so they could do all that gross stuff.

Fine. He would race his remote control 4x4 but he forgot the darn thing was out of batteries. Finding his bike laying against a pink flamingo in the middle of the yard, Cletus rode into town to the Piggly Wiggly for a can of grape pop. With a purple upper lip, the kid made it home only to find Itchy, his best friend, still wasn't home from his MeMaw's. Today sucked! He was B-O-A-R-D, board!

And then the most awesome thing happened! A wave of water came flooding down the dirt road uprooting and washing everything before it. The red reflectors that marked the turn into the park quivered before one swish of a shark's tail laid it on its side. It was then that it occurred to the kid he should run, Thelma!

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Dave, treading water, looks around and sees Crawdad hangin onto his unit, then get pushed off into the water before him as the unit rolls. The old timer splutters and gasps as a triangular fin turns and heads for him. Does Dave go to his assistance, despite Crawdad being neither Mexican nor a senorita?

Crawdad feels his grip slip and he's into the drink. The water is deeper than his feet can reach and he goes down, seeing a grey shark hide zip past him, pummeling him with its tail before it circles around. Fight, flight or freeze, Crawdad?

Vern looks around from his perch and and sees Dave and Crawdad in the water, a shark headed for them. On the opposite side of his trailer, he sees that kid Cletus hanging onto a pink flamingo that isn't any kind of good flotation device. The kid bobs up in the down like he's bait on a fishing line. Do you call attention to the others to come get onto your roof, or dive in to help and if so, who do you swim too?

Cletus perhaps shocked that Thelma didn't get to saving just yet, gets pushed by the water wall into the trailer, then under the water and manages to grab the pink flamingo which floats a little bit. Not great. He's going to need to get out of the water. He can see Vern on his roof of his unit, and the trailer park's resident mechanic looks a lot safer than a plastic bird. You can swim for safety, try to get into your home to try and save sis, or head for Vern, or try and fight sharks with the metal legs of the flamingo.

"Cum'n git you sum, ye overgrown guppy!" Crawdad calls out defiantly and readies his fists to give the shark for what up side its nose and gills. His fists thrust out, but don't do diddly.

"Yes, yes, it's perfectly safe," Jarvis speaks into the latest model iPhone. "I've got it in my briefcase with me right now. I'm taking some backroads to the airfield just to be extra cautious. Don't worry, Mr. Abernathy, I'll be back in town this afternoon and I'll make my way directly to your office. Goodbye, sir." He hangs up and slips the phone into his tailored Givenchy suit pants pocket. The empty stretch Hummer limousine stretches out before him and he slides down the black leather seats in a sprawling posture.

Sadly for him, that's exactly when something strikes the limo forcefully and slides Stanley into the interior door panel. His briefcase, which is handcuffed to his wrist like in the movies, bangs into the back of his head. "What in the holy hell!" He feels the heavy limo skin sideways as if it were on some waterslide. It eventually crashes to a stop and the window above him shatters. Water begins pouring in. He gets to his knees and looks out the remains of the tinted window. The whole place has flooded! The limo had smashed up against the side of a trailer and it's satellite dish had smashed open the window. The interior of the big car begins filling up. Finally Stanley remembers Barclay and frantically rolls down the privacy window between the driver and him.

"Barclay, get us out of here!" Stanley snaps. Barclay just gives a weary nod, knowing that's not likely to happen. He tires for several minutes to get the car started but it appears the engine is flooded. Or who knows, Stanley isn't a mechanic. Finally Stanley snaps again. "Well do something!" Barclay tries to open his door but the water pressure is too strong. Instead he rolls down the window and more water pours in. Barclay wiggles out and disappears into the murky water. Stanley wants to yell at him for being an idiot but he doesn't have time for almost as soon Barclay steps outside into the flooded water he lets out a scream. He rapidly disappears under the water which turns from muddy brown to red. "Barclay? Answer me!" It was then Stanley saw his first shark fin glide past the front of the Hummer limo's windshield. He stares again at the wide open door and knows he won't be very safe here. He rolls open the sunroof and climbs out to stand on the roof to survey where he is and what the hell has happened.

There was no money for fancy swimming lessons at the YMCA. Nope. Cletus had learned with the same way everyone in his family had learned. Uncle Mac had tossed him into the crick with the age old encouragement, "Sink or swim, buddy!"

Now coming up sputtering for air didn't feel too different from that first experience except back then the whole family had been guffawing on the bank. No one was laughing now!

Holding on to his flamingo, Cletus kicked his short chubby legs over toward Vern and the promise of dry ground. Thelma was going to be in such trouble with Ma if a shark bit him!

"Crawdad, look out, shark!" the man formerly known as Dave shouts and he starts swimming furiously towards the old codger with the penchant for stealing his best skin mags. It's also towards the shark, but what matter of that is to El Diablo Fuego, Luchador hero and protector of Summer Gardens Mobile Village?!

"Oh no you don't!" the masked man yells, closing in on the grey-skinned beast as Devereux puts up his gnarled dukes. "Not in my park!"

Stanley quickly realized that the limo is sinking and he's soon waist deep in the water. The sharks haven't noticed him, but the water had pushed the link into the trailer park. He can see two men fighting a shark nearby.Crawdad gets a punch in to the shark, you can roll damage. That's a straight strength die (no Wild Die in damage rolls).

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Cletus swims to the side of Vern's trailer. The water line is barely a foot from the roof, so he can scramble up. Make an athletics check (d6 for him) to get up. If Vern helps, it's an automatic success.

"Dave!! You got a screw loose?!" Vern hollers. "You can't fight them sharks. They'll have you for supper! Git on over here up out of that water.

One of the items Vern grabbed from the table was a length of wire and his wrench. He never left home without them. You just never knew when they'd come in handy. He jury-rigged a few wire handholds on the roof of the trailer. Attached it to the roof on a peg that was there, and then another on the side of the trailer just below the roof.

"Cletus! That's it, kid. Come on up here and climb up afore ya get dead! Grab ahold of this wire. I'll help pull you up."

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the limo. "What in the hell.....?"

No roll required from Vern or Cletus, Cletus can pull himself up using the handholds.

Thinking quickly, Stanley clambers up onto the roof of the trailer his limo had slammed into. "What in Christ's holy hands is going on here?!"

"Who are YOU and I don't remember inviting you onto my trailer?" Vern is wary of people that ride in limo's and gives him the stinkeye even though they are in peril at this very moment.

"Passe!" Crawdad wails at the shark. "Mais, dis ah de’pouille!" He shouts and quickly surveys his options before the shark makes another swipe at him or the luchador.

Crawdad's punch to the nose sends the shark off looking for easier prey. For now.

Luchador and Crawdad can make a break for it or tread water, as they see fit.

"Choo!" Crawdad shouts in relief as the shark moves away for the moment. "C'mon El D. Let's git outta dis here drink." He makes for Vern's trailer as fast as his old legs and arms can swim.

"Nice job, Crawdad!" Dave shouts as the shark momentarily swims off in his unknowable shark manner. "You owned that fish! You made it sad!"

The colorfully dressed park resident then nods and starts powering along as well, swimming next to Devereux for the nearest dry land. He's a strong swimmer and makes good time, stopping only once to shout back at Vern.

"Don't call me Dave, man, we've talked about this! I'm El Diablo Fuego!"

"Oh I have your invitation right here." Stanley Jervis reaches into the breast pocket of his expensive jacket and pulls out a middle finger. "Now I'm guessing your...home...or what's left of it is worth less than my suit, ruined as both of them are. Here, how about this," he reaches his pocket and brings out another middle finger. "So sorry, wrong pocket." He reaches in a third time and pulls out a soggy hundred dollar bill. "We seem to be in a natural disaster of some kind and so how about I give you this bill, and you help me out until this is all over. You may call me Stanley, and I'll call you Joe. How does that sound, Joe?"