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"Ah, the sea. What a peaceful place, so full of life, so full of interesting creatures to meet and study. When I'm underneath it, it's as if everything made sense. Sometimes, I feel more at home here than I do in land." Frenchy said dreamily. He stopped writing his notes and looked at his new, non-official assistant. "Don't you feel that way too, Karen?"

"No officers, they are lying! I swear I didn't—"Karen exclaimed before her face slipped from her hand and crashed against the desk. She woke up and looked around in horror, but she calmed down when she saw the weird man clad in a diving suit. "Thank goodness, it was only a dream. Anyway, did you say something?"

Frenchy folded his arms and moved his chair so he would turn his back on Karen. "I was saying something beautiful, something that came from the deepest part of my heart, and you fell asleep. That hurts, Karen. It really does."

"Seriously? You were talking non-stopping for two hours about the sea and how much you love it…again! Of course you lulled me to sleep." Karen looked at her watch and rubbed her forehead. "You talk too much. I bet you're as in love with the sound of your own voice as you're with the sea."

"That's true, mon ami." Frenchy laughed, getting up and going toward the submarine's periscope. "Ah, a school of fish is passing near us. Do you want to see for yourself, Karen?"

"Nope." Karen replied, wishing she was still asleep.

The submarine was a nice, tranquil place, but it was also very boring for anyone who wasn't as obsessed with sea life as Frenchy. He had proven to be an amiable traveling companion, but his conversations never digressed from his work or the creatures he studied.

And when he started talking, it was impossible to make him shut up. After two days in the submarine, Karen had mastered the role of the quiet listener.

It was a bore, but it could be worse. At least Frenchy's blabbering mouth had spared her from telling him her own story.

Sure, Frenchy was a good guy, but they were little more than acquaintances. Karen doubted he'd really care about what she had to say anyway. Most likely, he would fall asleep halfway through the same way she did every time Frenchy's monologues dragged for too long.

Besides, she didn't feel like sharing her motives. Her problems were hers alone, and they should stay that way.

"Oh, a shark in the distance! It's resting on a reef. That's unusual." Frenchy exclaimed, moving the periscope around. He looked like a child watching a movie for the first time. "Ah, the ruthless battle of the survival of the fittest. Nature can be cruel, but it's also so beautiful…wait, the shark's still not moving at all."

"Maybe he's just tired and wants to take a nap." Karen said, resting her head on her arms. "I know that feeling."

"There's something wrong."

Karen opened her eyes and looked at Frenchy. His voice had lost all its enthusiastic tone and was replaced by a mix of concern and sadness.

Frenchy left the periscope and went to the submarine's controls. The sounds of his steps were fast and heavy.

"What happened?" Karen asked him, going to his side.

For the first time, Frenchy ignored her. His whole attention was devoted in getting the submarine close to the shark as quickly possible.

Has he gone mad? That beast can attack us!

She immediately dispelled the thought. It had been only a passing idea created by fear. No shark could harm them as long as they stayed inside the submarine.

Then again, Frenchy is a bit crazy. It wouldn't surprise me if he decided to take a swim with the shark while he asked me to record them. Yesterday he swam with a bunch of jellyfishes and puffer fishes, after all. Karen gulped. They were now just a few meters away from the animal. Oh no, he's really going to do it. I won't let you, you French idiot! If you die, who's gonna take me to Charleston's hometown? And how am I going to survive in this submarine alone? I barely know how to drive a car, even less how to operate a damn submarine!

"Frenchy, no." Karen told him, holding him still in the chair with her hands on his shoulders. "I know you like sea animals, but swimming with a shark is too much, don't you think? Why don't you just take a picture of it? Here, I'll do it for you."

Karen took out her cellphone and prepared the camera. "Hey toothy, over here!"

"Karen, wait." Frenchy tried to put himself between her and sight of the animal, but he was too late. Karen had already taken the picture.

She shuddered and stepped back. A scream became stuck in her throat.

The image of the maimed animal was branded in her mind. She hadn't realized how injured the creature was until the photo appeared on the cellphone's screen, just a few centimeters away from her eyes.

The cellphone escaped her fingers. She didn't dare to look at it, even less to pick it up. It was as if the image of shark had infected it with a mortal virus.

"Who would…?" Automatically, her eyes tried to look at the shark again, as if they were trying to convince her that what she had seen was real. Luckily, this time Frenchy managed to cover the view before it was too late.

"Don't look." Frenchy said to her. He held her and moved her away from the glass. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you."

"Who would do that?" Karen finished speaking after Frenchy guided her back to the chair. He helped her sit down and moved the chair in the opposite direction so she wouldn't have to see that scene anymore. "That poor animal."

Frenchy didn't answer. He remained pensive for a moment before going back to the controls. He made the submarine go up to the surface and connected some cables to his suit. "I'll go check what happened to it. I won't be long."

"Okay." Karen said, pretending to be calm.

Before he left, Frenchy put her cellphone on the desk, next to Karen's hand. She recoiled from it as if it was a snake. "It's alright. I've deleted the photo."

Karen nodded, and waited until he was gone before hiding her eyes behind her hands. She didn't cry.

"You said the sea was a beautiful place, Frenchy." Karen said. After taking a deep breath, she dared to look at her cellphone again. The screen was broken, but it still worked. She stared at her screensaver for a while, as if trying to cleanse her memory from what she had seen. "But right now, it only feels cruel."

Charleston slammed his thumb with the hammer.

"Dammit! Stupid piece of junk!"

He would think that after dozens of times, he would become accustomed to that pain.

How wrong he had been.

In a fit of rage, he threw the hammer to the ground . "A genius like me shouldn't be doing this kind of menial work! This is a job for an imbecile!"

He kept throwing a tantrum, catching the attention of the people passing by.

"Problems in paradise, Charleston?" Patchy taunted him with good humor. "By the way, what are you building? It looks like one those pieces of art Manward makes in secret."

"Get out of here before I throw this in your ugly face!" Charleston exclaimed as he picked up the hammer.

Patchy got out of there, screaming and riding his tricycle so fast that the wheels left marks on the pavement.

"That idiot can't appreciate the wonder that is my work. I mean, just look at it!" Charleston said with pride as he looked at the new, improved Crumb Basket. "Ew, what the hell is that thing? Who would build such a horrible—oh right, it was me."

A second later, the fregile structure collapsed under its own weight. Charleston had lost count of how many times that had happened in the last couple of days.

"Curses!" He let himself fall to the ground on his back. "This cannot continue! How am I supposed to finish rebuilding the Crumb Basket before Karen arrives if it keeps collapsing every single time? Perhaps I didn't think this through…Stupid imagination, making me believe it would be a lot easier! You lied to me!" He slapped himself in the head. "Ow!"

To make things worse, the sun had been shinning brighter than usual in the last days, as if it had heard Charleston's plan and had decided to play a prank on him.

"Well, at least I'll have a great tan. Women love tanned men." Charleston said. Defeated and tired, he took out his cellphone and checked his messages. He had received one from his cousin Clem, but none from Karen. "It's been two days now. I know she's probably really busy, but I'm getting worried. If only I had my headphones…"

When he thought better about it, he realized it wouldn't have made a difference. They had promised no to call each other until the day of the festival.

"That was a weird promise to make." Charleston was starting to doze off. "Our whole marriage is weird, Karen. But…"

Charleston sighed and got up. He grabbed the nails and the hammer and started working from the beginning again.

"…I said I'd do it, and I will." He screamed after slamming himself with the hammer again. "Though it will likely cost me all my fingers. I hope you don't mind, Karen."

From the other side of the street, inside the Trusty Slab, Sandy watched Charleston as she ate a Slabby Patty.

"And there he goes again. He's determined, I'll give him that."

"He's a stupid fool."

Sandy looked at JimBob. He was sitting in front of her, with his back turned to the window.

"What's with you, JimBob? It's not like you to say that."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm fine."

"You've been acting weird the last couple of days. You look angry all the time. At first I thought you were just tired from work, but it's more than that, isn't it?"

JimBob looked at Sandy. His eyes softened.

"You noticed?"

"Please, everyone noticed. You went from insufferable idiot to bitter grump in the blink of an eye. If you ask me, that's an improvement."

"Manward, stay out of this." Sandy told him. She knew it was a slow day at work when even Manward resorted to eavesdropping to amuse himself.

"Whatever. I was starting to get bored anyway." Manward left his spot behind the cash register and went to sit on a distant table. He made himself comfortable, put on his earphones and opened the newspaper. "You're now free to continue with your idle conversation, you sad creatures."

Sandy rolled her eyes while JimBob thanked him for his consideration.

"Now that's dealt with," Sandy continued, "tell me what happened, JimBob."

JimBob hesitated. He made two pathetic attempts of changing the conversation that would have worked on Patrick, but did nothing on Sandy.

After much stuttering and blabbering, JimBob managed to tell Sandy the reason behind his bad mood.

"No Sandy, it's not because my underwear is too tight." JimBob confessed heavily.

"I never said that it was…"

"It's just that, well, a few days ago, Mr. Slabs said something that left me thinking."

"Listen JimBob, he's not going to fire you. He only says he will to get you motivated. It's a just a bit of tough love."

"No, it's something different. He said that…" JimBob put his hands on the table and joined them. "He said that all relationships are doomed to fail."

Sandy blinked. That was a piece of information she hadn't expected to hear.

"I see." She said. "And he just said that to you out of nowhere?"

"No. He said it after Charleston told us that he was worried Karen wouldn't like him when she saw him, or that he wouldn't like her."

Sandy listened with attention until JimBob was done explaining. "You didn't tell me that had happened."

"I know. It's just that it upset me so much." JimBob said apologetically. "Mr. Slabs also said that it wasn't something that happened to everyone, but still…"

"And you're worried that's true for us?"

JimBob nodded. "Yes. I think that's why I wanted everything between Charleston and Karen to turn out fine. If things worked out for them, then I could be sure it would be the same for us. But when I saw he had discarded his headphones and had dismantled the Crumb Basket, I thought…well, how long would it be before the same thing happened to us?"

Now that he said it out loud, JimBob realized how selfish he sounded.

Sandy held his hands in hers. "We're doing fine right now, aren't we?"

"Yes." JimBob answered softly.

"Then stop worrying about what might happen." Sand smiled at him. "Let's just do out best to try continue the way we are now, okay?"

JimBob swallowed. He wondered why he had been so stupid and tried to keep all those thoughts to himself, or why he had considered them to be true.

"I'd like that." JimBob said, feeling freed of his bad humor for the first time in two days. "Sandy."

"Yes?"

"I just want you to know that whatever happens next, right now I'm glad I'm here with you."

Sandy laughed under her breath. "You silly man. Stop that or you'll make me cry."

"I'M ALREADY CRYING!"

"What the—Patrick, what are you doing here?" Sandy jumped in surprise as Patrick blew his nose with his own shirt. He had been sitting on a chair near the bar for who knew how long.

"I don't know, but I stayed for the drama." Patrick said, bawling like a baby. "But don't mind me, continue."

"You nosey little…" Sandy stood up and began to chase him down the restaurant. Patrick kept crying as he ran away in circles. "You better make sure I don't catch you! I'm not as gentle as Bobby Bass!"

"No please, I don't want to get thrown into the dumpster again! I had to shower fifty times to make the smell go away! And it didn't work!"

JimBob nervously looked at the door of Mr. Slabs' office, but calmed down after remembering he wasn't in the restaurant that day. "Thank heavens he's too busy arranging everything for Pearl's presentation for the Beach palooza. Otherwise, he'd be pretty angry at the chaos we're making."

Wit his mind now at ease, JimBob relaxed and laughed, happy to be in the company of Sandy and his friends.

"Sandy's right. I shouldn't worry so much about what might happen. Right now, I have this, and that's good enough for me." Then, almost involuntarily, he looked over his shoulder, and saw Charleston hard at work in whatever he was planning to do with he ruins of the Crumb Basket.

Maybe you're happy too, in your own way. I'm sorry I meddled so much in your affairs just because of my selfish reasons, Charleston. But if you really need help, you can ask us, and we'll help you. You know that, right?

If I asked those morons to help me, they'd accept without hesitating. I wouldn't need to manipulate them at all. Charleston though as he looked at them from the other side of the street. And that's exactly why I won't ask them.

He felt envious of how they continued to act like they had no care in the world while he was stuck in a situation without an apparent solution.

"It's okay, I'll just have to keep trying." Charleston sighed. "I mean, I have a clear image in my head of how I want the Crumb Basket to look. I even spent one entire night drawing the blueprints! I just have to concentrate and make sure I don't mess up—Ow!"

He slammed his thumb again. Just like before, he repeated his routine of throwing the hammer to the floor before throwing an angry tantrum.

"Forget this! If I can't manipulate JimBob and his stupid friends, I'll have to find another fool to trick." Charleston looked at the street, inspecting the people that passed by. "Bobby Bass? No, he's too brutish. There's Patchy again, but I think he's scared of me now. Larry…yes of course! Kind, strong, and soft-hearted, he's the perfect idiot for my plan!"

Charleston ran to the sidewalk and put himself in the middle of Larry's way. "Larry! How's everything going for you? Getting any more people to train lately?"

Larry glared at Charleston and tried to pass him by, but the skinny man wouldn't let him go so easily.

"Don't be rude now. You can at least say hi, you know? After all, we're friends." Charleston said, smiling affably at Larry. "Listen, I need—"

"No, you listen." Larry came closer to Charleston. His shadow covered him completely. For a moment, Charleston felt as if he was standing before a bear. "Don't you think I've forgotten how you ratted on me with the police. I almost had my trailer torn apart because they wouldn't stop looking for more protein milkshakes. All the people in the beach saw that mess. They think I'm still a delinquent! That did nothing to get them interested in my training sessions!"

"What? I didn't rat on…Oh." Charleston had almost forgotten that incident. "Come on now, it was an accident. I was really stressed out at that moment and—"

"I don't care." Larry grabbed Charleston by the head and lifted him up without any effort. Charleston felt shivers down his spine. He was sure Larry would slam his head against the floor until he rendered him unconscious. Instead, Larry gently put him out of his way and let him go. "Just don't talk to me in a very long while, okay? I think that's what would be best for you."

Larry left without saying another word.

Charleston stood still for a while before falling to his knees. "I thought I'd die!" he looked at the now distant Larry and screamed at him. "That's right, run away! I won't go easy on you next time, you thug!"

With his honor slightly restored, Charleston went back to work on his restaurant by himself. "Well, at least it can't get any worse."

He heard the alarm of a new message entering his phone. "Karen!"

His enthusiasm transformed into annoyance when he discovered to whom the message really belonged to. "Dammit Clem, how many times have I told you? I don't want to go to our family's annual reunion! I haven't in the last ten years! And no, it also can't be in my restaurant! I don't even have a restaurant at the moment, so stop pestering me and—"

An idea came to his mind.

Of course, why didn't I think of it sooner? Our family fills me with nothing but shame Clem, but I'm willing to make this sacrifice. And who knows? Maybe you're not so useless after all.

He pressed his cellphone and put it closer to his ear. It only took two seconds for Clem to answer.

"Clem? Yeah, of course it's me, you fool. Yeah fascinating, now listen, tell the others they can come here tomorrow for the annual family reunion, I'd be more than happy to receive you all in my restaurant. What? No, I'm not kidding, and no, I'm not drunk either! Are you crying? Get a grip! And for heaven's sake, make sure you and the rest look halfway decent before coming here, okay? At least take a bath! No, I don't want to talk to our aunt. Wait, what did I just tell you? Clem, don't you dare! I swear, if you put her on the phone, I will never forgive…Oh, hi aunt."

That was only the first of many, awkward and boring conversation Charleston had to endure.

This is all for you, Karen. Charleston thought as he talked with another of his whatever-the-hell-his-name-was cousins. I hope you appreciate it.

Karen never would have thought the responsibility of starting a conversation would fall upon her. She had never been the greatest talker, and with the exception of Charleston, she found it difficult to keep talking with someone for more than a few minutes.

But she had no other choice.

Frenchy hadn't said a word since he'd returned to the submarine. Karen hadn't noticed how quiet the place really was without his endless chattering.

I wonder if that's why he talks so much. This amount of silence can be overwhelming.

"Don't you think it's funny you were planning to go to the same Beach Palooza as me? What were the odds! You said you lived in that place for a while, right? How's it there? I'm really curious myself." Karen did her best to make her voice sound upbeat.

"Oui." It was the only thing Frenchy said before going back to writing his notes.

I'm doing this wrong…what did that stupid book say about making casual conversation again? Those stupid suggestions are not useful at all! They only make me sound like more of a fool, if that's even possible.

Karen kept crocheting. She knew that hobby made her look like a grandma, but it had always calmed down her heart.

And after what had happened earlier, it still needed much calming.

I don't even know what I'm making, or why I chose a green ball of yarn to work with. I'll just keep going and see what I can transform this into. Maybe this will end up being the gift I'll give to you when we finally meet, Charleston.

She waited to see if Frenchy had something to say, but he remained taciturn.

"I'm sorry about the shark." Tired of the silence and of beating around the bush, Karen simply spoke her mind. "But it's like you said. Nature can be cruel, and these things just happen. You can't do anything about it."

Frenchy stopped writing and looked at her. Karen wondered how angry he really looked underneath his helmet.

Great, now he hates me. Nice going there, Karen. Smooth and tactful as usual.

"Yes, I know what I said." Frenchy explained with a mellow voice that took Karen off guard. "But that wasn't nature, Karen. That was just the work of a selfish man without respect for the world he lives in."

"I'm guessing you hate everyone that eats fish, then."

"No. I like to think there's a cycle, and that we humans can be a part of it as long as we show respect to it and the creatures that conform it, even if it may seem cruel at times. But when someone disrespects it merely because he thinks he is above all those creatures just because he considers them stupid and lowly…"

"That sounds awfully personal, Frenchy."

"You're right, it is." Frenchy stood up and put a hand on his helmet. "If I removed this right now, I could show you the person I'm talking about. After all, we both have the same face."

Karen stopped crocheting. She had always wished for a sibling, but Frenchy was causing her to have second thoughts about the matter.

"I've always felt my appearance was a bit of a curse, you know?" Frenchy kept talking, sitting again in his chair. "No matter what I do, I'll always resemble my twin brother. When I started this job many years ago and began wearing this suit, it was liberating. I finally could differentiate myself from him, but he soon began to wear an identical suit himself. He copied everything single aspect of mine only to spite me. No matter how many changes I make to my suit or my face, he always copies them. If I gained a scar, he'd be more than willing to inflict one to himself only to make sure we continued to look the same. And now, the sea creatures are starting to fear me, all because of the horrible things he does to them. Sure, a few of them know that he and I are not the same person, but I can no longer interact with them as much I used to. They're scared of me because many they believe I'm him, and I hate the fact that's the last thing those poor creatures think as he hurts them and…"

Frenchy swallowed dryly. "I'm sorry, this got too personal. Besides, I can see you're busy with whatever you're crocheting—"

"So is your brother the one that hurt the shark?" Karen asked.

Frenchy nodded slowly. "I can't be sure. He's always been cruel, but he's never gone this far. But there's something in the way that poor animal was treated that screams his name. All of its teeth were extracted, and its fins…no, you don't need to hear this, and I don't really want to talk about it. Sorry Karen, but can we just talk about something else?"

"We can also no talk at all." Karen shrugged. More than a rude implication, it was a considerate suggestion. She had caused Frenchy much trouble by talking to him in the first place when he had clearly wanted to be left alone.

"Actually," French picked up the green ball of yarn on the floor. He began to unknot the tangled threads, "I'd like to keep talking. Talking calms my heart, and you're a very good listener."

"Only because you never shut up." Karen muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." She gave Frenchy a quick smile before she continued crocheting. "It doesn't bother you if I do this while you talk, does it? I'll still listen to you even if I don't look at you."

"Not at all."

"Good. Well, go ahead. I'm all ears."

"There's a lot of things I'd like to talk about with you. I still haven't told you of my adventures in the distant Rock Bottom."

"Sound riveting." Karen said with pretended excitement. She tried to make it sound as genuine as possible, even if deep inside she knew she would have to brace herself for a three-hour long story.

"But there's something else I really want to talk about right now." Frenchy said casually as he played with the ball of yarn. "Karen, you're Charleston's long-distance wife, aren't you?"

Karen's needles escaped her hands. She looked at Frenchy with her mouth agape.

"I had my suspicions, but your silence just confirmed it." Frenchy chuckled good-naturedly. "That, and the screensaver on your phone. I gave that photo to Charleston months ago. It's a really cute picture of Plankton and his computer wife, don't you think?"