The looming night tinted the sky, and the driveway was illuminated by the porch light. Four teenagers stood in the front yard, arms full with paint tins and brushes. In the driveway, an old, timeworn van sat dormant. It seemed as though the retro vehicle hadn't moved in years, even though it had been used to bring a certain skinny junkie to school and back just that day. The kids eyed the vehicle, contemplating the possibilities with hands placed purposefully on their hips. For several minutes, no one spoke.

"All right," Shaggy arose, slapping a long-fingered hand on the hood of his ride, "Daphne: You've got the blue paint. Like, how about you start by painting the whole thing blue?" Fred seemed slightly irate that the scrawny pothead was dictating: especially when it came to his girlfriend. The blond puffed out his chest to assert his masculinity. Meanwhile, Daphne whined in protest.

"How come we can't paint it pink?" she complained in perhaps the most girlish voice humanly possible. All three others, with the slight exception of an extraordinarily out-of-it Velma, gave Daphne a reproachful stare, causing the redhead to role her eyes and pop open the can of blue paint reluctantly. With a thick brush, she began to carefully lather the metal in blue.

The girl's skillful painting soon took a turn for the worse, and eventually she started to simply slop blue paint onto the van straight from the bucket. The rest of the gang helped, of course, and soon the large van and the four teenagers were all coated in blue. For no reason in particular, Daphne and Fred found this to be quite the turn-on; they were making out in a matter of seconds after the first task was complete.

The next task, according to Shaggy, was to add green and orange. He insisted that this job required more precision, so he humbly placed himself in charge of the deed. With a few skillful sweeps of the brush that would have made Picasso proud, the boy embellished the van with patterns completed in green and hippy flowers blossoming in orange. The final touch on his masterpiece was to paint, in bold orange lettering, the words 'The Mystery Machine' on the broad side of the car. Stumbling back, Shaggy marveled at his finished art. The drug-addled teen was convinced that the paint job was the best idea of his life.

"Wow," came the soft, feminine voice from behind him. Shaggy peered over a skinny, t-shirt clad shoulder to see Velma sitting quietly on the edge of his driveway. Her wide eyes were glazed over from both amazement and inebriation, but something about the way her thick lips hung slightly open in awe made the seventeen year old burnout feel warm inside.

Shaggy realized seconds later that Fred and Daphne weren't in sight. Turning back to his finished work, he half-heartedly called their names. After a few seconds, Shaggy heard the clanging of trashcans. The two missing kids emerged from his garage with unkempt hair and disheveled blue clothing. Shaggy could have sworn Velma had whispered the word 'Jinkies!' upon realizing what they'd been up to for the last couple of minutes.

"Jesus, Jones! Like, couldn't you keep your hands off the lady for five minutes?" Shaggy eyed the pair expectantly. The tall jock smiled in reply and shook his head proudly, giving his girl one last slap on the ass. The other boy shook his head disapprovingly, trying to shift his focus away from his disgusting new friends and back to the van. Gesturing to his work, he asked, "So, gang, what do you think?"

"Looks wonderful, Shagster," Fred chuckled, with his face suddenly turning regretful, "But the three of us actually have to start headin' out now. Daph and I said we'd come by Danny Boy's house tonight, and poindexter here…" he gestured to Velma rudely, "…probably has got some studying to do."

"It's all good, man," Shaggy said casually, clapping his hand amiably into Fred's. After he was released from the shake, he used his now free hand to help Velma up from the driveway. The petite girl smiled stupidly up at him, wrapping her orange-sweatered arms around his tiny waist as she stood fully.

"Thanks for tonight," she said sweetly. Then, standing on tip-toes in her little red shoes, she kissed the scruffy boy softly on the cheek. Smiling again, she stumbled after Daphne and Fred, who were already stepping into the car.

As Shaggy watched them go, he could hear the front door being pushed open. Scooby came bounding out, sitting obediently by his master and friend. The dog stared up at Shaggy with big, concerned brown eyes.

"Ruts wrong, Raggy?" he asked his friend, who had his eyes glued to the road before him. Shaggy laughed, gently pressing his slender fingers to his lips.

"I dunno, buddy," he chuckled, "I've been smoking for, like, five years now. Still, even the best herb I've ever had couldn't beat the high I got from the kiss from that pretty little nerd girl…" Shaggy stared blissfully into the distance, reliving that beautiful moment.

"Ralright, rat's enough reed for rou," Scooby snorted, and the two of them chuckled the whole walk back inside.