Day twenty. Bernie, the gum-chewing web developer, is still chewing the same piece of gum.
But tensions are rising. The slow leak is still, well, leaking, and the coffee shop gang is now unanimously griping at Bernie.
“Bernie, you have to give up the gum,” Susan pleads. “It’s time.”
“You’ve had a good run, but this is getting ridiculous,” Lauren adds. “The ship is literally sinking.”
Rosie wags her tail, trying to be diplomatic. “Think of it as a noble sacrifice, Bernie.”
Bernie clutches his jaw, looking around in betrayal. “I thought you were on my side.”
Aly, ever the picture of suspiciously sweet enthusiasm, leans in with a smile just a little too big. “Bernie, don’t worry! I’m sure if you let it go, you’ll feel so much better. You want to help, don’t you?”
Before Bernie can formulate a response, Leslie snorts from her corner of the room. “Oh, please. If he gives up the gum now, what was the point of all this? Twenty days of commitment down the drain?” She smirks. “Typical.”
Then, just as it seems like the mutiny is reaching critical mass, Captain Sal enters, leading Patty, the ship’s master chef, into the room.
“Everyone, settle down,” the captain says. “Patty has an idea that may save us.”
Patty, a woman who has likely seen more kitchen disasters than she can count, folds her arms and surveys the scene. “I just need about half a stick of gum,” she says. “That’s all. Just half. I can make a pot of glue strong enough to patch the leak.”
Silence falls over the coffee shop. All eyes turn to Bernie.
Bernie grips his jaw tighter. His mind races. He’s made it twenty days. He’s built a legacy. A following. A movement. Could he really betray the gum now? Could he betray himself?
Patty clears her throat. “Bernie?”
The gum-chewing web developer swallows hard (not the gum—never the gum). The fate of the ship may rest in his very sticky hands.
Stay tuned.
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