Bermuda and Steve, the two-headed naked blue monster are in the middle of the lake during a torrential downpour.
“No, you have to row harder than that,” says Bermuda. “Don’t let your oar go so far into the water like that.” They’ve been spinning around in circles for several hours now. It had been beautiful and sunny, but all of a sudden the clouds rolled in and opened up.
“I’m trying,” says Steve. He puts his oar in like Bermuda says and pulls real hard, but he just ends up splashing water everywhere. “I’m cold. And I think I hear thunder.”
“Yeah, that’s thunder, all right.” Bermuda rows his oar properly, but it just spins the little boat around in circles. “You are such a keen observer. You deserve a medal or a gift certificate to a pancake restaurant or something.”
“You don’t always have to be sarcastic,” says Steve. “Oh, look!” he drops the oar and points up at the sky to a bolt of lightning that was there a moment ago.
“Wow, I’ve never seen lightning before.” Bermuda rows even faster, the boat spinning and spinning the rain.
They sit in silence for a while. Steve tries rowing again, but he just splashes a lot and doesn’t accomplish much of anything. Then Steve sees something, another boat. He watches as it slowly approaches them.
Bermuda rows faster and faster, and Steve starts to feel sick from all the spinning, but refuses to say anything about it. The other boat comes closer and closer until it is right next to them.
“Hello, there!” calls a woman’s voice. She is wearing a bright yellow rain slick and all they can see of her face is a big smile. “I have some sandwiches, if you want some.” She holds out two ziplock baggies full of sandwich.
Bermuda and Steve reach out and take the offered food. They haven’t eaten in a while, not since being chased out of that barn earlier, then having to convice the mailwoman that they weren’t really trying to dump mud in her mailbag in a continued effort to sabatoge the US Postal Service, and then the whole plot to steal the rowboat and carry on with their assasination attempt, which by now they had completely given up on. They hadn’t explicitly stated that they were giving it up, but they both knew. They were cold and wet, and in no mood to do much of anything other than go home and watch TV.
“Man, wet pimento cheese sandwiches are crap,” says Bermuda. “You got anything edible in that boat of yours?”
“I like it,” Steve says as he takes Bermuda’s sandwich and finishes it off in two bites.
“We are all united in the sandwich.” Says the smiling woman. And she rows away.
“See,” points out Bermuda. “See how her oars are only halfway in the water, and see how she pulls back like that? Do it like she’s doing it.”
But it seems that Steve is simply incapable of rowing a boat.