Ch. 7: How to Deliver a Barrel of Hooch Without Really Trying
Previously on Back to the Future: It's About Time
"Ah, Miss Strickland," greeted Cueball. "Come for some more soup?"
"Come now, Mr. Donnely. You know I wouldn't set one foot in this mockery of all that is good and decent if the poor of Hill Valley weren't so dependent on Mr. Tannen's overblown show of generosity," she said distastefully.
"Was that a yes?"
"Just give me the soup before I gag on the hypocrisy."
"I'll tell the boss you said hello," said Cueball as he handed Edna a barrel of hooch.
"I'll just bet you will," snarked Edna and left with a slam of the door.
"Edna picked up the barrel of hooch. Now all I have to do is get it from her somehow," Marty said to himself before going to get Emmett and leaving the soup kitchen. Now how was he going to convince Edna to give him the barrel?
Fortunately for Marty, Edna was in the square right across from the soup kitchen.
"Hey, Miss Strickland…"
"Oh, hello Mr. Corleone. Try not to draw any undue attention my way. I'm on the trail of a hot new scoop as we in the newspaper business say."
"What's the scoop?"
"I've heard rumors that something shady is going on in the 'Sisters of Mercy Soup Kitchen.' It's under new management, you know, and… oh, we mustn't ump to any conclusions, not till the facts are in. I hope to Heaven that it is just a rumor… that soup kitchen is the front line in the Good Fight. If it goes bad, what'll happen to the Stay Sober Society? Not to mention all the charitable institutions that depend on me for soup deliveries," she explained with a hint of worry in her tone.
"What's the 'Stay Sober Society'?"
"You haven't heard of the S.S.S? They do the most marvelous work… taking hopeless drunken old bums and turning them into former hopeless drunken old bums. I'm one of the founding members… not to say I was ever a—well, you know. Anyway, we've always met in the cellar of the Sisters of Mercy Soup Kitchen. But for some reason the new managers don't want us down there so we're stuck. We've got nowhere to meet."
"I know a place where the Stay Sober Society can meet," Marty offered, beginning to see a way to turn this situation to his and Emmett's advantage.
"Really? Where?"
"The Brown Residence."
"You mean Judge Brown's place?"
"Yeah, I happen to be good friends with his son, Emmett… and he's told me the Judge would love to lend his place out for good causes like yours."
"Really? Well that's the most generous, public-spirited offer I've received in a month of Sundays! Please tell your friend Emmett we accept! And the offer couldn't have come at a better moment. It's almost time for the meeting to begin!"
"Great, I'll tell him," Marty smiled and walked over to where Emmett was, doing more equations under the shade of the tree in the square.
"Emmett, this might be a stupid question to ask, but couldn't you have designed your rocket-powered drill to run on a fuel that isn't, you know, illegal?"
"Illegal! What does law have to do with science? Science has its own laws. You of all people should know that," laughed Emmett.
"Some of us down at the patent office are wondering, what made you think of a rocket-powered drill?"
"Ah, that was Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne. It was… a revelation."
"That's what we figured. Listen, I'd better make sure that we get that alcohol."
"Right, I'll keep cogitating."
Marty approached Miss Strickland again, planning on tricking her into giving him the barrel of alcohol or getting her to deliver it to Emmett's place for him. "Miss Strickland?"
"Hello Mr. Corleone, I'm afraid I haven't much time. The meeting of the Stay sober Society is due to begin very soon."
"I just wanted to ask, you make hot soup deliveries?"
"It's one of my many small contributions to the Good Cause. Healthy bodies, healthy souls, or so one hopes. I pick up hot barrels of soup from the kitchen and I deliver them hither and tither –Hill Valley Orphanage, the Saint Francis Xavier Ranch for Unwanted Children, Foggy Mountain Home for the Incurably Insane, Shady Acres Rest Home… oh I can barely keep track of them all. It's a very big job."
"I can help you deliver soup, I donate a lot of time to charity," offered Marty.
"Oh? Which ones?"
"The… uh… Mario Brothers!"
"Ah yes, the Italians do so many good works…"
"If you'll fix it so I can pick up the barrels of soup…"
"Now hold your horses—let's not get overeager. I drive the soup cycle in this town and I 'm not about to turn it over to an upstart. But, if you're well connected with the local charitable institutions you can let me know when they're running low on soup."
"As a matter of fact, I do know a local charity that's running low on soup."
"Who?"
"The Stay Sober Society!"
"That's right! They'll soon be gathering at the Brown Estate and we haven't provided refreshments!" Edna exclaimed on got on her bicycle. "I can't get over the generosity of your friend Emmett, volunteering his father's house for our meeting!"
Emmett heard this comment and immediately tried to do something about it. "Wait there!"
Edna stopped her bike and Emmett took Marty aside. "Michael, what in the name of Thomas Alva Edison do you think you're doing?"
"Don't you get it? You need alcohol to run your drill, right? Those bootleggers in the soup kitchen won't let us get our hands on any of their hooch… but we can get Miss Strickland to pick it up for us, and deliver it right to your door!"
"No! Out of the question!"
"Why?"
"I can't just let strangers invade my parent's house! What do we know about these people?"
"They're sober, it says so right in the name!"
"Okay," Emmett agreed begrudgingly. "But Pop needs his rest at the end of the day. This meeting is sure to be too noisy for him!"
"They'll be quiet," Marty assured before turning to face Edna "You'll be quiet, right?"
"Oh, yes! I play my tambourine very softly!" she smiled.
"You hear that?" he asked Emmett.
"Yes, but…"
"But what?"
"But it's still impossible!"
"Okay, then. Forget the whole thing! We don't have to test your rocket-powered drill tonight…"
"We don't?"
"No, I'll take the train back to Washington and tell the folks to give the patent to Doctor McCoy."
"Wait!" exclaimed Emmett, his eye suddenly wide. He heaved a sigh of resignation before approaching Edna with a serious expression on his face. "You will instruct the members of the society to wipe their feet before they come inside?"
"Then you are Emmett Brown! I thought as much. You have such a… righteous face," she smiled and took a hold of Emmett's hand. "Edna Strickland. I don't know how to thank you for your generosity!"
"Uh… pleased to meet you," he stammered.
"The feeling's mutual," smiled Edna before taking off on her bicycle.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Emmett managed to say.
"Ahh, you worry too much," Marty said in an attempt to reassure his friend. "Well, we've served the subpoena and gotten a barrel of booze delivered to your house. Looks like we're off to your lab to build your rocket drill! Er, you do have a lab, right?"
"What kind of future patent holder would I be without a lab? C'mon!"
They ran past the jailhouse and Marty stopped to talk to Doc real quick.
"Doc! I'm off to get the rocket drill!"
"Good!" the old scientist smiled before looking up, gasping, and ducking back down in time to avoid exposing himself to his 1931 counterpart.
"C'mon! Time waits for no man!" Emmett said and took off again towards his house with Marty following.
Doc looked out the cell window and smiled, confident that Marty would get the drill delivered no matter what.
A/N: Another weekend, another chapter. Hope you all enjoyed this one. Only one or two more chapters to go plus a preview for the sequel. I am totally stoked! Now Marty and Emmett are off to build the rocket drill but how will Emmett will react when he finds out that Marty isn't from the patent office? Post a review to get the next chapter! Or I'll leave you all hanging for another six months.
