Hey, I'm back, sorry I haven't updated for ages, but I've been busy. So I decided to make a long chapter for you.
See chapter one for disclaimer.
Shaggy groaned as he opened his eyes, he was in agony coming from mainly three places, his ankle, his nose and his stomach. He slowly pulled himself into a sitting position and then curled into a tight ball, hoping that would ease the pain, it didn't. Shaggy glanced at his watch. Ten to 8. Oh great. Those idiots had knocked him out for a while all right.
After staying perfectly still for a good couple of minutes, Shaggy realised that wasn't going to help and forced himself to get up. It was still pitch black, but in the distance the beatnik could see lights, lamppost lights. He gingerly followed them, wincing all the while until he finally came to another row of shops.
He went to the nearest one, which just so happened to be a café, and hobbled inside. Now this café, 'Delicious' was run by one Mrs Jones. She had been running said café for 40 long years, and she had to be honest not a lot ever happened. So imagine her surprise when the door pinged open and a tall, unshaven, plainly beaten-up boy edged in. She could only stare at him, for his nose was bleeding and probably broken, his hands were grazed, and his trousers were ripped at the knees.
Finally she got her sense about her and rushed at the poor boy. "Oh, my darling! What happened to you?! Sit, sit…" She gently ushered him to an empty table.
Shaggy, feeling a bit confused, explained, watching the poor women's face grow in horror. When he'd finished explaining, she said. "Oh, no is there not anyone you can call?"
For a split second Shaggy almost said no, until suddenly it hit him, Sugey and Scooby. They must be going out of their minds with worry, he thought glancing at the clock behind the counter which read 8. He remembered his last comment to them. "Like, if I'm not back in an hour, call the cops." He'd meant it as a joke; it didn't seem so funny now.
"Like, yeah there is, my sister. Can I, like, borrow your phone…?"
"Yes of course…"
Meanwhile, true to Shaggy's prediction Sugey was going out of her mind with worry, she was pacing up and down and seriously debating on whether to call the police or not. Scooby was next to her, whining pitifully. She was going to have to call the police, there was no way around it, but she didn't want to, she kept hoping that her brother would just stroll in the door, grinning that stupid grin of his and saying. "Sorry, I, like, got held up, I. You want some pizza?" Forget the pizza, all she wanted was to know was if her idiot brother was alive or not…
BBRRIINNGG! The 14 year old jumped about a mile in the air, before lunging for the phone.
"Shaggy!?"
"Like, yeah, it's me." The girl punched the air in excitement, gesturing to Scooby to come and listen as well.
"Where are you? You were supposed to be back, like, half an hour ago!"
"Yeah I know, I, like, got attacked…"
"Attacked?" She felt the blood drain from her face. Attacked? Who the hell would want to attack Shaggy? He'd never hurt anyone before in his life! Next to her Scooby growled. Whoever had hurt his Raggy was already a dead man. "Are you okay!?"
"I'm fine, just, like, a bit beat up. Listen, suge, I'm in a café named Delicious. It's near the park. Can you call Fred and tell him to come and get me?"
"Yeah sure! I'll tell him, hold on Shag." She hung the phone up and paused. Tell Fred? Why Fred…oh yeah. He had the van. Duh! Blonde moment. She reached for the phone, before realising she didn't actually know the Jones number, damit!
Not wanting to waste time, the 14 year old ran to the side of the house, quickly locking the back door, grabbed her bike and started cycling to Fred's house, which was about ten minutes away, thankfully. Scooby ran ahead, a look of pure determination written on his face, he'd get to Fred's if it killed him.
Meanwhile back at Delicious, the clock read ten past.