It Never Happened
It Never Happened
Author's Notes: Hello, and welcome to the official sequel to PsychoEd. No, not the one with the aliens; forget that ever happened. Or the one with Doctor Who; that never happened, either. This is my attempt to re-start the sequels with a story that takes place 30 years in the future!
Ooh, spooky!
You won't have to have read PsychoEd to follow this; I plan on working stuff in to help people along. Some of the things from the other sequels (Last names, OC's) will remain the same.
This will be a massive crossover. I do not own Ed, Edd, and Eddy/ Psychonauts/ Johnny the Homicidal Maniac/ anything else that may show up in here. The OC's, however, are my own property.
This is the last sentence.
FLASHBACK:
"Why are you doing this?! This whole thing is insanity!" "I believe it to be the ultimate sanity, actually, Eddward. Mankind has lost its right to think."
"But… what you're trying to do—" "War, murder, sin; this all started when Adam and Eve took a bite out of the apple. Besides, God made the mistake of giving man free will; do you really think he's fit to run reality?"
"I…" "Deep down, you agree with me. Trying to deny it is like trying to deny you exist. When my plan comes to fruition, you'll come around to my way of seeing things."
EDDWARD Hidanstein woke up with a start. He looked at the digital alarm clock next to his queen-sized bed; it was 8:00. He had an hour to get ready for work. He looked down at his small hands; they were sweating.
Eddward—once known as Double D in his younger days—got out of bed tiredly. Why had he dreamt about… that thing that happened 26 years ago? He had been a Senior in High School then.
"Oh, well." He said to himself. His voice hadn't changed much since he was twelve years old.
He rubbed the black ski-cap on his head as he walked to his large wardrobe. He opened it up, pulling out an orange t-shirt and a pair of blue shorts. He also pulled out a clean-as-a-whistle white lab-coat for work.
His name was Eddward Hidanstein. He was 43 years old.
MEANWHILE…
"And that, class, is why the sun will eventually explode, destroying all of us." The seventh-grade teacher explained to her class full of social miscreants. "If any of you have any questions, you must hold them in until you are unable to speak."
One of the students, a black-haired thirteen-year-old named Donny, raised his hand. "Um… wouldn't there be any way to save the planet?"
The teacher narrowed her eyes at Donny. "Yes," she admitted, "but without a sun we would all die out in a matter of days. So, inevitably, we are all doomed."
A ringing bell marked the end of the Forecast of Doom. The students left the classroom as quickly as they could—nobody wanted to stay around their teacher too long—and sprinted to their lockers. A few of them, however, took their time.
These three stragglers were a diverse group. One of them, the tallest one, was a skinny boy wearing a white t-shirt with black lines. He wore a pair of glasses—not because he needed them, but because people in glasses generally looked smarter.
The next was the middle one—she had long, black, curly hair going down to her elbows. She wore black shirt and black jeans. She was slightly pale, but this was mostly from an overprotective father.
The third, shortest boy had short, red hair. His green eyes contained a certain amount of cluelessness to them. He wore a long, smelly green jack (several sizes too large) over a blue t-shirt.
They were talking, like friends normally do. Of course, what they were talking about was a bit… different.
"I'm telling you, Jo, the Titanic wasn't real!" The tallest boy argued with the girl. "It was just a movie!"
"Yup! Just like the Civil War!" The shortest boy nodded happily.
"Okay, you're both idiots; I've read my dad's history books, like, a dozen times, and both of those things really happened." The girl, Johanna, glared at her two friends.
The tallest one, Joe, could only laugh at his friend's ignorance. "Yeah, right; show me some proof that the Civil War really happened." "Yeah! And show me some proof that Frankenstein didn't!" The shortest of the three, Joey, added.
Johanna (Jo) shook her head at her two friends.
BALVETECH LABS:
BALVETECH Labs was owned and run by the mysterious Mr. Balve, a wealthy yet reclusive businessman. It was the place where many of the country's top scientists came to work. Some of them didn't even have to commute.
Eddward was one of these people. His house was only a few miles away from the workplace. Oh, sure, his family wasn't too happy with the constant noises of the lab's experiments, but it was worth it all to be on time every morning.
In his white lab coat, the 43-year-old man carefully poured a test-tube of something green into something blue. It turned red. A thing turning red was apparently good in this situation, as a large smile appeared on the scientist's face.
The lab he was using was more-or-less empty right now. He was pretty much the only scientist in the room. Everyone else was either working on the Positive Molecule Reverser (patent pending) or looking in microscopes.
"I take it things are going Robin, then?"
That was why Eddward jumped when he heard the Cockney voice. He turned around and came face-to-face with another scientist. He had thinning, silver hair and blue, child-like eyes. His hands were in his pocket and his mouth was in a wide smile.
"Oh, don't follow?" The man asked. "It's rhyming slang, mate. Robin—Robin Hood, good. Name's Dante, by the way; just got transferred here."
Eddward smiled politely and extended his hand in proper greetings. "Welcome to the lab, erm… Dante. My name is Doctor Eddward Hidanstein."
A look of recognition passed over Dante's face. "Eh, Hidanstein? Ain't he the one who—" "N-No." Eddward quickly interrupted Dante's sentence. He didn't need anyone bringing that up again.
Dante shrugged and didn't pick up Eddward's quickness to cover it up. "Must be someone else, then. Oh, well. So, what do you do around here?"
Eddward rubbed the back of his neck embarrassingly. Whenever he told someone, they usually burst into laughter. "Um… I—I research the possibility of alternate dimensions."
Genuine amazement appeared on Dante's face. "Oh, that's brown, ain't it? Oh, sorry—brown rice, nice. So, what exactly have you butter—butter churned, learned—so far?"
Eddward decided to ignore Dante's strange speech patterns and a smile appeared on his face. "Well, I theorize that each dimension has a unique wavelength; that is, the way the universe is constructed in a way that corresponds with a certain number."
To Eddward's surprised, Dante seemed to actually be taking this seriously—what's more, he actually seemed to be thinking about it.
"Um… it is my opinion that the farther apart two dimensions' wavelengths are, the more differences are in them. According to calculations I've made using the lab's supercomputer, I think it's safe to assume that this dimension's wavelength number is 460.77."
Dante nodded thoughtfully. "Anyone else know about this?"
Eddward stared at Dante in confusion for a few seconds. Something had changed in his voice.
"Um… I-I told my wife, of course. That and I called one of my old friends from my childhood." He noticed Dante's cheerful face change into a serious, more worried one. "A-Are you okay?"
Dante immediately adopted his cheerful face once again. "Oh, it's nothing, mate. This is just some interesting rough… rough and tough—stuff. Sorry if my slang's a little confusing, mate… mate—china plate… no, wait, that was backwards."
The silver-haired scientist turned around and exited the lab. A small smile appeared on his face when he was out of Eddward's view. That had gone almost exactly as planned.
JOE:
"God, I hate school."
Joe sighed irritably. His mom hadn't come to pick him up so now he had to walk home. When he got home he'd probably have to cuss at his little brother.
"Why can't dad ever pick me up? He owns a freaking used car place." Joe turned continued walking down the sidewalk that, after about half-an-hour, would lead him home.
"Better yet, why can't I just ride the stinking bus? What, is it because our house is so close? Maybe I could've gotten a ride with Joey… nah, his mom's ugly-looking. Maybe I could've ridden the bus with Jo… then, when we got to her house—"
Joe stopped his thoughts and growled more angrily than before. Jo was his friend; why the hell was he thinking about her like this? Plus, she didn't really have a lot going on…
Joe rounded the corner and continued walking down the sidewalk. All of the apartment buildings looked the same; sometimes he couldn't find his own place. He continued walking for fifteen minutes until he came to the apartment building.
Stepping in the front door, the smell of poverty (or, in his father's case, cheapness) lingered everywhere. The wallpaper was peeling, the rats had graffiti on them, and the paintings on the wall all had mold on them.
Joe walked up the steps of the apartment building until he came to room 4C. He unlocked the door and stepped inside to the sound of a quiet home.
"Hey, mom! You got any food ready for me?"
The only answer was the sound of his baby brother crying. Confused, Joe closed the door and walked into the living room. The green couch, shag carpeting, and posters were reminders of days gone by. However, neither of his parents had been alive in the 70's.
He sat down on the couch and noticed something on the coffee table. He picked it up—a note, something in an envelope, and a wad of money (Possibly the only good kind of wad).
Joe put the money and envelope on his lap and unfolded the letter. It had been written by his mother.
Joe,
Going to be gone for a while. Take care of your brother while we're out. Money is for food and basic needs. Don't drink your father's beer again.
Love,
Mom and Dad
Joe shrugged. He'd learned three things from the letter—they actually expected him to tack care of someone other than himself; the money could be used for 'food'; and that he couldn't drink his dad's beer. It didn't, however, say anything about his mom's beer.
Joe turned the letter over and saw something else written on the back. His dad had written this.
Hey squirt,
Don't use what's in the envelope unless there's a real emergency. Make sure the other squirt doesn't eat any of my quarters again.
Well, that last one went without saying; how else would Joe steal them? But the instructions about the envelope puzzled Joe. What did his dad mean by 'emergency'? Like, running out of money?
Joe shrugged it off and decided to look at what was in the envelope after he and his brother had eaten something. With nothing else on his mind except where his parents kept the Pedo-Brand Baby Food, the fourteen-year-old walked into the kitchen.
How could he know anything was wrong?
Author's Notes: Man, I'm taking a big risk with this story. I just don't want PsychoEd to be an entirely sequel-based storyline, y'know? Well, anyways, read and review.
Next Time: HOUSE