"Brad," he says.  "You have only begun to realize your powers."

    You nod.

    "In time you will become skilled as I have...  Here, take one of these."

    He reaches into his hood and hands you a rigor mortis fishstick.  He takes one for himself, puts it in his mouth and then lights one end of it with a lighter.

    You put the fishstick in your mouth.  It smells awful.  He lights up your stick, and you inhale just a little bit.  Immediately you choke and gasp for air.

    Bud chuckles, then takes a huge drag off of his, waits a moment, and then exhales a large dark grey cloud of fish-smoke as he talks.

    "Brad, when you were young I wanted to raise you up to be strong and powerful like me.  But that takes training.  And training takes time..."

    You take another small drag off the fishstick, but it's still gnasty.

    "But Poppy didn't like me spending too much time around you.  He knew that one day you might rise up against him...  There was that summer we spent up here all alone.  Some things you might think were pretty strange happened back then between us... But I never had the chance to put it all in perspective for you."

    Bud takes off his yellow slicker and hands it to you.

    "Go ahead, put it on," he urges.

    Bud is now butt-naked, save for his glasses.

    Reluctantly you try on Bud's famous Gorton Fisherman yellow slicker.  As it encompasses you, a peculiar feeling of evil and power comes over you.

    "Brad, I have constructed a plan of domination that will purge all false Powells from Powell Camp by year's end.  And with our combined strength we can do it."

    "What do you mean 'false Powells'?" you ask.

    "I mean those outside of the one true Powell line that traces back to Abraham Powell, the founding father of the Powells, through Jefferson Powell who crossed over from England on the Mayflower, through Homer Powell who claimed this land for the Powells, and through me, Addison Powell, the rightful heir!"

    "But Poppy's the eldest son -- so doesn't that mean--"

    "My brother has disgraced the Powell name!  He has made us a band of heathens!  With no dignity!  He married a Lithuanian!  His children are swine!  And they litter this land with their presence."

    Bud is now standing (butt-naked, mind you) on the nose-end of the boat as he makes his impassioned diatribe against the descendents of Poppy.
 

    Bow down before him and swear your allegiance.

    Ask if his plan of domination includes medical and dental benefits.