"Minnesota. Land of 10,000 lakes," Dean announced. "Do you think they actually counted them?"
"They probably liked how it sounded."
"Sure is hot out. I think we deserve a break."
"You hungry already?"
"Hell, I'm always hungry. But, no. I meant we should go for a swim."
"Swim?"
"Yeah. Remember? Dog paddle, crawl stroke?" Dean looked at Sam. "Come on. It'll be fun."
Sam just looked at him.
"Whatever. I'm going." Dean pulled the Impala into a group of trees near the shore. "It's now or never, Sammy. Don't be a chicken."
"I'm not a chicken."
Dean clucked as he pulled his boots off.
Not caring for Dean's chicken impression, Sam started shedding clothes, too. Then, they bolted for the water.
"This is heaven," Dean sighed. "It's too hot today."
"This does feel good," Sam agreed.
"Ow. What the hell was that?" Dean looked around but Sam was too far away to have done anything. He looked into the water. "Seriously, Dude. What the hell?"
"What are you complaining about?" Sam asked.
"Something stung me. Ow! It did it again. I'm getting the hell out."
Sam followed Dean out of the lake.
When they got back to the Impala, Dean pointed to red sores on his legs, "See. Told you something got me."
Sam looked at the sore and didn't know what could have left them.
Once they were back on the road, Sam looked on his laptop.
"I know what you ran into at the lake. It was a bullhead."
"A what?"
"A bullhead. A fish with stingers."
"Damn fish. Why don't they mention attacking bullheads when they talk about all those lakes?"
"Most people figure there are fish in lakes, Dean."
"Whatever. They should at least put it on their license plates."