“Oh my gosh, this place sucks!” whines Mortimer, his eyes wide and pulsing from disappointment induced rage as he and Claribel stare at the sorry state of the Bliss Town Reservoir, both dressed casually.

Mortimer is wearing jeans and a dark colored shirt with swimming sharks stitched on it. In his grip are a pair of coolers, and a pistol is holstered on his hip.

Claribel is wearing a button up long sleeve shirt decorated with seashells, airy pants, and her stetson is snug on her head. Slung on her back is her rifle and she is clutching a large beach umbrella in one hand and a basket of beach towels in another. She too is staring at the sorry scene with wide eyes.

Mortimer and Claribel cautiously approach the sandy shore from their position in the parking, their steps crunching on gravel and discarded debris along the way. The state of the reservoir really is miserable; plastic bottles, greasy paper, cans of various uses, other things all manner of neglect laid bare.

"They don't even try to keep it clean," says Claribel.

“Well, you know what? I don't want to walk around through this minefield of trash,” says Mortimer. He looks around and points at a tree with a grill and picnic table underneath it's canopy. All of it is covered in trash and graffiti, but he points at it with a determined glint in his eyes. “There! We'll clean that spot and call dibs!”

Mortimer runs ahead, rips weeds away from a public trash can to give entrance and starts picking up the trash while Claribel works on clearing up the sand to make a good spot to lay the towels and umbrella. While they work, they hear laughter and splashing nearby, but they are too focused on their work to peek at the people having fun.

When Claribel is done, she sets rocks on the corners of the towels to keep the cool breeze from blowing them away, and she stabs the umbrella in the ground and pops it open. She looks around and sees a nearby block shaped concrete structure labeled as a bathroom.

“Alright, I'm going to change,” says Claribel.

“Sure thing,” says Mortimer, chucking more trash into the overflowing trash can.

It doesn't take long for Claribel to reach the bathroom, and when she opens the door, her tongue flicks out and is immediately poisoned with the toxic scent of bleach, urine, feces, and other things she can't place. The interior has a green tint, lights flicker and hum, and graffiti of various natures are scribbled everywhere. There's even a chunky brown handprint streaking down the wall near a stall with an out of order sign taped to it.

Claribel coughs and gags and slams the door shut, shuddering and tail rattling as she desperately sucks in somewhat clean air. Then she takes a deep, raspy breath and marches towards a large bush.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Forget this. I'm changing by the bush,” says Claribel.

***

Back at the site, Mortimer is shoving weeds and branches into the public grill. He quickly changed into his wetsuit when Claribel left, putting him in a pale gray masterpiece with white shark teeth inside its dark gray bands.

His tail flicks in aggravation as he continues shoving as much as he can into the slender rectangle that makes the grill. His irritation is contrasted by the calming waves brushing against the sandy shores and shouts and splashing nearby.

Footsteps approach, and then Claribel clears her throat.

Mortimer turns around and his ears perk and body stiffens at the beautiful sight before him.

Claribel's figure is encased in a vibrant cobalt wetsuit, the dark sapphire bands perfectly accentuating her curves. The collar, adorned with an array of seashells, nestles against her throat. The suit clings to her, molding itself around every dip and swell of her body, a second skin that leaves nothing to imagination. It traces the contour of her hips, hugs the curves of her breasts and slithers down her thighs with an audacious intimacy that makes Mortimer's mouth water.

“What do you think?” asks Claribel sheepishly.

Mortimer tugs at his wetsuit collar, his pulse beating rapidly and his throat bobbing from swallowing the drool pooling in his mouth.

“Eh… I think it looks…”

Mortimer's voice trails off and Claribel cringes and rubs her hands together.

“It's bad, isn't it?” says Claribel.

“No! You look better than me or anyone else out here!” blurts Mortimer. “You’re like a star surfer or a professional swimmer. The kinds that go on cereal boxes.”

Claribel rubs her hands again and sits on her beach towel, which is Block World themed. She watches the water, and Mortimer rubs his hands eagerly after he puts his cooler on the table.

“Alright, now for the beginning of the good part,” says Mortimer. He lifts the lid. Then slams it shut and growls. “Never mind!”

Claribel looks at Mortimer. “What?”

“I forgot the hotdogs!”

“What!?” Claribel opens the cooler and sees condiments and buns, but not hotdogs. She closes the lid and looks at Mortimer with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “How'd you forget the hotdogs!?”

“I don't know how I forgot the hotdogs! They’re probably still on the dining room table, no doubt being devoured by those Uno fanatics.”

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At the safehouse, Dacre goes into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks when he sees a tower of ten red and yellow hotdog packets on the table.

“Hey, Rolland?” calls Dacre without looking away from the hotdogs.

“What?” says Rolland from the living room.

“What's with all the hotdogs?”

“Don't know don't care. Shae dropped a blue reverse so it's your turn again.”

Dacre stares at the hotdog stack for another couple of seconds before he shrugs, snatches a packet and walks back to the living room.

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At the reservoir, Claribel sits at the picnic table and rests her chin on her folded arms.

“I guess we're going to have to go to the store,” says Claribel.

Mortimer lays his arms and head on the cooler, groaning. “Dang it, this…”

His voice trails off as the scent of burnt hotdogs floats into his nose, and Claribel's forked tongue flicks out. She scrunches her brows and licks the air again while Mortimer's nose twitches from his sniffing.

The pair look at each other and say, “Hotdogs!”