The four went as fast as they could down to the parking lot, where they all piled into the Blueberry. "Wow, Gus, nice car," Leslie told him from the back seat.

"It is a company car," Gus responded. "Which means there are some rules. Number one, no—"

"Dude, just go! It may already be too late!" Shawn exclaimed.

So Gus pulled out and began listening to Leslie's hurried directions, all the while stating the rules to the Blueberry. "Number four, shoes will be worn at all times. Number five, I control the stereo volume. Number six—"

"Uh, Gus, I hate to interrupt, but what exactly are we going to do once we get to Jamm's place?" Ben asked.

"What do you think we're going to do, Ben?" Leslie responded. "We're going to get my binder back!"

"Yes," he said, "but how? He's not just going to give it to us, and shouldn't we have some sort of plan?"

"Ben the Coolest," Shawn told him as they pulled in a few houses down from Jamm's, "leave it to me, Gus, and the psychic forces to figure that out. You and Leslie just stay here in the Blueberry. We'll return soon."

The partners got out. "Shawn," Gus whispered. "How are we going to get in there?"

"I don't know yet, bud. What time is it?"

Gus glanced at his watch. "8:30."

"And yet I don't see any lights on. What time does this guy to go bed?"

"You should try going to bed at a decent hour some time, Shawn. You'd probably feel a lot better if you—"

"I can't have this conversation with you right now." Shawn scanned the front of the house for a way in. So far, he didn't see anything to indicate the home had a security system. He and Gus went to the side of the house, where they found a small kitchen window. It was cracked open just a bit, letting the cool autumn air in. "Great Griswold's Ghost!" Shawn whispered.

"Clark Griswold isn't dead, Shawn."

"Seriously, dude?" The fake psychic slowly and quietly slid the window open as far as it would go. "Sorry, Jules," he whispered. "You first, bud."

Gus shot Shawn a look, but complied, sliding in head first and landing on the floor with a groan. Shawn followed and the two were inside. In the darkness, they could make out a huge hibachi, several creepy pictures of female tennis players, and a kitchen counter piled high with unopened mail. "This place is even creepier than city hall," Gus told him.

"You got that right," Shawn replied. "This may be a portal to hell. Let's just get out of here as quick as we can."

As quietly as they could, the partners searched the bottom floor of the home, peeking into every cabinet and under every table. Unsuccessful, they met at the bottom of the staircase. "Dude, don't tell me we're going up there," Gus whispered.

"We have to, man. I think this is our last shot. Jamm's going to destroy the binder soon if he hasn't already."

"Fine," Gus said. "But you're buying waffles before we leave."

"Ah, good one, Gus." Shawn led the way up the staircase. Again, they searched every room, including the bathroom, but found nothing. Finally, they reached the very last room on the floor. The door was shut. From the inside, they could hear snores.

"Nuh uh, Shawn," Gus announced. "No way. No way am I sneaking into a man's bedroom while he's sleeping. I will not. I refuse."

"We'll be in an out in a second, Gus," Shawn said. "I know this is where he's keeping it, I mean, it makes sense, right? He wants to keep it close to him."

"No, Shawn," Gus replied.

"Look, if you won't do this for Leslie, do it for Braverton's. Gus, do it for Ralph."

"Ralph," Gus whispered in awe. He sighed. "Fine, I'll do it. You go in first. I'll go left, you go right."

Shawn very carefully opened the door. There was Jamm, sound asleep and wearing a sleep apnea mask. It didn't take them long to spot the thick binder, fully intact, sitting on top of his bedside table.

Gus just happened to be closest. He inched towards the binder carefully and picked it up. Standing directly over Jamm, he nodded at Shawn. All of a sudden, the councilman's eyes flew open, getting an eyeful of Gus, binder in hand. Jamm screamed, the apnea mask still attached to his face. Shawn and Gus screamed in reply.

"RUN GUS RUN!" Shawn screeched, and they bolted out the door and down the hall. Gus fell and rolled down about half of the stairs, but managed to regain his footing and keep a firm grip on the binder. Jamm was just behind them, yelling obscenities. Shawn frantically unlocked the door and threw it open, still screaming, the pair running across the lawn and knocking over many a gnome in the process. They climbed into the Blueberry, Gus throwing the binder in the back and speeding away.

…

"What was that?!" Leslie yelled, clutching her binder.

"We got your binder, Les!" Came Shawn's reply.

"Yeah, I know, but what—how—"

"We got the binder," Gus repeated. "Honestly, Leslie, the less you know, the better."

She shrugged and began to look through the binder, making sure everything was accounted for. "So," Ben began, "how did you guys even get in?"

"I sensed an open window," Shawn told him. "And thus, the rest fell into place."

"Okay, you guys know that's breaking and entering, right? That's illegal," he responded.

"Ben, don't be a stale candy corn," said Shawn. "Gus and I did what we had to do. The psychic forces permitted it!"

"And Leslie, you're okay with this?" Ben asked her.

"Jobs are at stake here, Ben. You know how I feel about justice, but frankly, Jamm is the worst. He had it coming," was her reply.

"Good point," he said quietly.

"So, whaddaya think?" Shawn interjected. "Waffles?"

"Yeah!" Piped Leslie. "We deserve it, right Gus?"

"I agree, Leslie, as long as Shawn's buying. He promised me back there."

"Really Gus, you're holding me to something uttered in hell's gateway?"

"Yes, I am. It's about time you kept one of your promises."

"Are you kidding me? I always keep my promises! What about last week when I promised you could have one of my bananas? I left one for you."

"It was completely brown, Shawn."

"They're better that way, everyone knows that!"

And so, the partners argued all the way to JJ's until Ben finally offered to pay.