Summer Gardens Mobile Village

Shoving the six pack into the dingy, Crawdad rolls back into the small inflatable boat with Cletus and shows the boy the board he found. "Weez gotz ah paddel bouy!" He says excitedly and begins to push the water with the board nice and steady toward his trailer. "Pop up ah cuppel dem tapz ahn weezle haf ah brew ohn dah way."

Cletus attempts his jet boat recreation, pops the aor valve and tools it under the water. This makes a very interesting noise to your fish friends.

@CherokeeWind Let's gets you to roll Athletics to see how well this wild maneuver works. Failure may make you shark bait!

Want to describe Cletus' wild ride?

"Yeah good luck El Diablo Fuego. My trailer will hold up for only so long."

When Vern sees Crawdad has managed to find a six-pack he hoots and hollers over at him. "That there is a score! Not that it helps me none, but if we're gonna go down, we might as well go down drunk as sailors."

Stanley sits up, finally having recovered enough from his quick swim. He turns to Thelma. "Have anything in your trailer that might be useful? I'm sure you people must have guns or knives or crack pipes we can use!"

Thelma whacks Stanley. "Ass hat! My crack pipe is right here." She fishes it out of her bikini. Lord knows from where.

The most mischievous grin came over Cletus' face as he snickered, Look! The fish are farting! The old timer was rocked back as he went to slow and steady paddle forward as Cletus released the air valve in the water. Like a jet boat huge bubbles propelled the two forward.

Cletus' eyes grew large as the boat skimmed across the water toward the wide toothy mouth of an oncoming shark. He was too young to die!

But there was Granny Tucker's cement bird bath with a chipped blue painted turtle sunbathing on the edge. The kids had always laughed at Granny... everyone knew turtles were green but now Cletus was a believer. A grubby hand reached out just enough to grab hold of the rounded shell, rotating the pair to sling shot a new direction before landing them in front of Crawdad's trailer. They were right where they wanted to be.

Granted they were dumped into the water with a once again deflated boat, beer sinking below the surface and, as of yet, any clear cut weapon but that was if you only wanted to see the negative. Cletus certainly wasn't feeling "board" after that ride! Let's get in your place and find something!"

Vern spies a lone beer can bobbing by, the plastic ring still attached, the other cans missing. "The lord ain't left us yet!" He dunks his hand into the murky soup and scoops it up, popping the top with that satisfying hiss sound. After a few glugs and a wipe of his mouth with his sleeve, he raises the shotgun he managed to retrieve, gets a bead on the nearest shark, inhales a breath, holds it, and squeezes the trigger.

The shark turns, frenzied by the bubble-farting boat, and attempts to swallow Cletus whole, or half of him whole the other half for seconds, when Vern fires his shotgun. The fishes gills explode and the creature floats, bumping into Crawdad's trailer, entirely dead.

Dead and leaking blood (shall we say, chum) into the water.

"Hot damn! Vern hollers, when the shark's gills explode. "That mo'fo' is stone cold dayed! Haha." He dances around on top of this roof, giddy with success and the saving of lives, especially Thelma's. He celebrates by guzzling the last of his beer, crushing the can and launching it into the drink.

Stanley opens his mouth to ask Thelma where she had been keeping that pipe, but stops when he realizes he really doesn't want to know the answer. He instead says, "For some reason, I imagined something larger and more useful." Stanley sits and has a think, and comes to the conclusion that his expensive suit jacket is remarkably heavy when it's soaking wet. He tries to remove it but is stymied when he remembers one wrist is handcuffed to the briefcase. He fishes the key out of his pants pocket, opens the cuffs, and removes his jacket. He eyes the handcuffs and weighs his decision. He can't trust trailer trash to not steal the case, but it was too cumbersome to take in the water with him. The satellite dish precariously perched on Thelma's trailer catches his eye and he has an idea. He cuffs the dish's base and nods to himself with a job well done. He turns to Thelma. "I'm gonna check your trailer for anything useful. You stay here." Stanley slides off the side farthest from the sharks and looks for an opening.

Nobody need tell Crawdad twice. He takes Vern's shot as a starters pistol firing off and goes into water at his trailer, and enters looking for stuff. In particular he's after Ol' Bessie, his loaded 12 gauge double barrel and his deep sea fishing rig. Both of which he has in racks on the interior wall of his trailer.

Cletus could hear his mom in his head, "Whatcha done now? Did ya get shark's blood on your shirt? I betcha ya expect me to get the stain out? I swear, Cletus! You have the sense God gave a turnip!"

So Cletus with every bit of his God given sense starts swimming away from the shark leaking red at Crawdad's place heading toward the pharmacological trailer of the Doobie brothers. He wondered if the sharks snacked on some pot then would they be too mellow to attack...or maybe it would give them the munchies!

Dave dives into the water, looking for what he can scrounge. He finds one thing: First Aid Kit in watertight box. (Bandages, tape, and antibacterial spray. This adds +1 to Healing rolls for four uses.)

Stanley and Crawdad both look for come up short. (Just one trip down per little while.)

Vern is aware that he is alone on the trailer now and starts to feel left out of the action. He spies the suit chaining his briefcase to the satellite dish pole and wonders what in tarnation could be so important in there that it has to be saved. He thinks back on all his TV shows and decides it contains the nuclear weapons code and the man must be stopped. He also wouldn't mind a hit of the bong, no matter how small.

Without any further thinking on the matter, he grabs the inflatable mattress and starts blowing it up. Once inflated, which seems to take a dog's age, he stuffs his shotgun shells in his pocket buttoning it closed, grabs his gun and lays it on the mattress, and wisely decides to leave the knife because he doesn't need a puncture in the bed. Plonking the mattress in the water beside the trailer, he clambers on and paddles with his arms and hands towards Thelma's trailer.

Stanley surfaces again, cursing his luck. He climbs back on top of the trailer and lies down again near Thelma to catch his breath. He wasn't a born athlete, but at least he had some swimming practice at the exclusive Golden Calf Health Spa. He eyes the briefcase, dreading to be anchored to it again. But in his mind's eye he keeps seeing worst case scenarios of the trailer tipping over and the case being trapped under the water, or the dish breaking off and the case slipped down. He sighs and moves the briefcase back into his possession. He already had some chafing around his wrist. "You don't have any lotion on you by any chance, do you," he asks Thelma. Only too late did he realize his question might be misconstrued.

She moves away from Stanley. "Back off, city slicker, I ain't no lotion dispenser. Try up your butt."

Vern gets onto his mattress and with his hands, tries to float and paddle his way over to the trailer where Cletus is on top of. He doesn't make quick headway, but he slowly makes the crossing.

GLUB! GLUB!

Crawdad surfaces with the six-pack that Cletus' fart boating caused to fall back into the drink, only to find that both Cletus and his semi-deflated dingy have left him in a pool of shark's blood and it corpse. He sighs and swims for his own trailer and climbs up.