Summer Gardens Mobile Village

The five of you have gathered on the roof of Vern's trailer. It's out of the water but only barely.

Sharks ply the waters. You hear screams as people are munched. What's your plan?

Vern looks around the trailer to assess how much time they may or may not have until the tin heap gets either washed away or flooded, before he summons the outrage he feels he should have towards this uppity suit.

"I s'pose you think you are funny with your pocket finger jokes? Well, you ain't." Vern is just about to push him into the drink when the hundred-dollar bill makes an appearance.

"I'll take that," he says swiping at the bill, quicker than one might expect with a beer can still in his right hand as he balances on the bobbing trailer roof.

"I ain't calling you shit. Or maybe I am." He cackles at his own joke followed by a phlegmy cough and a loogie hacked over the side.

Crawdad scowls as the stranger disrespects Vern. He balls up his wet fists at his sides; ready in case there's a row on top of the mechanic's trailer.

"Ah gots meh Sha, old Bessie, in dah trailer dare." He points towards his floating home and mentions his beloved 12 gauge. "Ol' Charlie tuna u'd git wat fer if'n she put some lead up'n his arse!" The old timer quickly looks around. "We be need'n a boot."

Stanley looks at the balding old man with a confused expression. He looks back towards Vern. "For that hundred I also expect you to work as my translator. What did he say?"

"You what? Your what? Hell no. Besides, I ain't go no notion of what he ever says anyway. Ain't that right, Crawdad?"

Vern takes a last swig of beer, crumples the beer can with his hand, and chucks it in the roiling water. What looks like a thoughtful expression then crosses his face. "I did catch the boat part. Makes sense, don't it? We be needin' a boat, sure as shootin'. Yup."

Stanley surveys the flooded trailer park. Detritus of beer cans, hollow lawn ornaments, cigarette butts, and dozens of varieties of wrappers fill the area. Stanley wrinkles his nose. "The sharks might be the least dangerous thing in the water," he mutters. The talk of a boat gets his attention. "I doubt any of you have a boat, am I right? What about a canoe or kayak? Hell, maybe even get some of your blow-up dolls and tie them together to make a raft."

A dripping wet Fuego ignores most of the witty banter on top of the trailer. He's eyeing the sharks, counting them, looking for others who might need saving.

"A raft or a boat would be nice," he says in his deep, manly voice. "Or if we could somehow turn all this water to ice."

Prompted by the use of his name, Crawdad looks at Vern. "Wat dat, Vern? A boot...fer true."

Vern loves pressing Dave's buttons and deliberately doesn't use the nickname he so adores.

"DAVE! You ain't got the sense God gave a goose! How in the hell are we gonna turn all this into ice? It's moving ain't it?"

He gesticulates wildly at the surrounding water while carefully scooching over to the suit who he plans to shove off the roof. "Yeah Crawdad, don't nobody even got a paddleboat around here?"

There are a few more survivors, swimming. A couple locals and another outsider.

You watch a young woman climb onto another roof but as she gets clear of the water, a great white jumps from the water, skids across the aluminum roof, snatches her in its jaws, and then slides into the water on the far side. Blood plumes the spot.

"Terrible way to go. But on the bright side, maybe all the sharks will be full soon and will leave. Or get second-hand meth poisoning or something. Any of you locals know what's nearby here? Maybe a boat dealership or Outdoor World?" Stanley scans the area to see where did all this water come from and if there are any buildings nearby that would be useful.

"Hey, there's Brandi, she's gonna make it!" Dave shouts from their place of relative safety. Then a shark eats her, and the man's face falls behind his mask. "Oh no! No! I liked her quite a bit!"

Dejected, his shoulders slumping, the giant just sits down when the suit asks about what's in the area. Vern is already under his skin, now one of the hotter chicks in the park is gone, just like that.

"We have to save everyone in the park," he says, more to himself than anyone. "It's going to be crazy here once it gets dark. So I agree, we need a boat. Or just anything that will float."

The old man's face lights up as the masked wrestler notices and points out the young woman climbing onto the nearby roof and just as quickly shakes her head and stares at the top of Vern's trailer when she is eaten. "Damn shame! Nah gud waas ov ah boxxy belle..."

Vern is up against the suit now, face in his face which can't be pleasant. Who knows when he last brushed the few teeth he has left. Come to think of it, he's not even sure if he replaced his toothbrush when it fell into the toilet.

Poking the man in the chest with a dirty-nailed finger. "You gotta git off my rig right now, ya hear? I don't like your attituuude. What do they call it? Condesooning or what not?"

Vern has been so zoned in on the suit that he never sees the shark consume the hot babe across the way.

Sounds like the crew wants to scavenge up some gear, maybe a boat if you're lucky.

Scavenging in these waters will mostly mean diving into the water and looking around. It's handled by rolling a Notice check, and based on your results, I'll draw you some cards which in turn determines what you find.

Cletus looks up at the the men towering over him glad Vernon had been there to offer him a hand up but now he was feeling a little worried about Thelma. Using his scabby elbow, the kid pokes El Diablo Fuego in the ribs, Ya know, Thelma?

Who at the park didn't know Thelma? A bleached blonde who put on a production of tanning every day on the lounger next to the broken down Trans Am. Barely legal but still a senior, Cletus' sister would rub her skin down with coconut oil while in her American flag bikini that had many a man feeling patriotic as they saluted the flag.

Thelma... she's over there in the trailer. Maybe you could help save her. I bet she would be feeling real grateful like. I'll even see what I can find if we can we can help my sister.

Cletus face scrunched as he worked his hand into the tight right hand pocket of his jeans to fish out a smooth stone. Now he loaded it into his Rogers 2000 sling shot biting his lip as he took aim at the Dish satellite barely hanging on to the trailer to the right. Now if things went the way he wanted, the rock would finish off that tenuous hold the dangling plastic had making a splash into the water. Hopefully, any sharks would be more attracted to the larger splatter as he entered the water.

El Diablo Fuego nods at little Cletus emphatically. Brandi was indeed all right, he liked her quite a bit, but Thelma?! That girl had it goin' on and wasn't afraid to show it off. Unfortunately, about this time and before he can answer the little stinkbug, the jerkwad in the suit moves to push Vern in the water!

"Oh no you didn't!" the masked giant bellows and he rushes the man and tries to put him in a headlock. "Man, these are my friends! We stick together, right to the end!"

In the middle of this, the hairy-shouldered man shoots Cletus a thumbs up. "Then we save your sis! Like champion Luchadores little man, we won't miss!"