Title: Karp's Ride in the Dryer
Rating: PG
Setting: a year to a year and a half before the first movie
Summary: Jesse, Karp, Peter, and Averman are having a typical afternoon until a cherry pie stains Karp's new white shirt.
Feedback: Feel free to review.
Dedication: To Quimby, who inspired me to write her this fic. I know it's a year and a half late, but better late than never, right? Happy birthday.
Disclaimer: the Ducks belong for Disney.
Story Notes: This fic was originally inspired by a Ducks RPG scene over at LiveJournal. That RPG has since closed, but Quimby liked the scene so much that I offered to write her the circumstances surrounding this one particular story that Jesse told in that RPG. It was originally supposed to be for Quimby's birthday…in 2004. So yes, this is almost two years late. Yes, I'm a terrible friend. No, I'm not sure she'll ever read it. But it's written, dammit, and I'm posting it here. I did my best with this fic; it's hard to write as a nine year old. You're not exactly smart, but you're not exactly dumb either and finding a balance was difficult. So if some of the time the characters seem to be a little smarter or dumber than the average nine year old, I apologize. And I know that Jesse sounds a little like a sociopath. Don't worry, he's not. He's just a little mischievous. March 18, 2008: This story was re-uploaded for grammar. No real content changes have been made. Happy reading!
"That was an awesome movie," said Les Averman. More commonly called Averman than Les, the boy had curly red hair and big glasses that made him look somewhat like an owl. He was small, and rather thin, but as the jester of the group, he went to great lengths to make people to laugh.
"Yeah," agreed Peter Mark, a short boy with a leather jacket and a give 'em hell attitude, "Definitely kick ass."
"Oh come on, Pete," said Dave Karp. Like Averman, Dave Karp was commonly called by his last name. He was a little chubby, but not particularly overgrown in any way. "It wasn't even that scary. I thought you said this was a scary movie, Jesse."
"Yes it was! It was sick the way he became his mom!" Jesse Hall exclaimed. Jesse was a black boy with a mouth that could kick you to the curb or charm you into anything. He was a smooth talker and persuasive, a natural leader, even at the tender age of nine.
"Yeah, but it wasn't scary," insisted Karp. "I was expecting more of a movie like Halloween."
"This was a psychological thriller," Averman cut in. "It messes with your mind more than anything else. Halloween was much more of a slasher movie."
"Psychological? That's a big word for you, Averman," laughed Peter. "Do you even know what it means?"
"Yeah, I know what it means! It means it messes with your mind!"
"Well, I guess there is a functioning brain somewhere under all that curly hair."
"Oh, shut up."
"Either way," Karp said loudly, cutting through the bickering of his two friends, "It was good, but it wasn't terrifying."
"Would anyone like some pie?" said a lady's voice.
"Sure Mom," Jesse said, standing up and gesturing his friends to do the same. "What kind of pie?"
"Cherry," said Mrs. Hall, "It's fresh out of the oven."
"Thanks Mrs. Hall, that sounds good," said Averman, following Jesse towards the kitchen.
"Call me Cindy, Les," Mrs. Hall – Cindy – replied. "I've known you since you were four, that's long enough."
The boys sat down at the table and Cindy sliced them all a piece of pie before announcing she was going upstairs to take a nap before work.
"We'll be good while you sleep," Jesse said to his mother. "I promise."
"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of, young man," Cindy said and headed up the stairs.
Peter, Jesse, Karp, and Averman sat quietly eating their pie. When they'd finished, Jesse asked if anybody wanted seconds. All the boys wanted a second slice, so Jesse got up to go get the pie and bring it to the table.
"I'm thirsty," Peter announced as Jesse walked away. "Averman, go get milk!"
"Why me?" Averman asked. "Karp, you go."
Karp, forever following orders, got up at exactly the wrong moment. He stood up just as Jesse was returning to the table. Karp spun around and, without looking, started to walk – straight into the cherry pie. Jesse lost his grip on the pie plate and the cherry pie hit Karp square in the chest, all over his brand new white shirt.
Jesse, Karp, Peter, and Averman stared at each other in silence before Peter promptly burst out laughing. "Way to go, losers!" he laughed.
"Sorry Karp," Jesse said with an apologetic grin. "Really, I didn't mean to –"
"My new shirt! My mom's going to kick my ass!" Karp moaned hopelessly. His life was over. He knew it. His parents didn't have much money, so everything nice and new was precious. He'd just gotten cherry pie all over a white shirt. Now it was all just a matter of time before he'd be seeing his dearly departed goldfish again.
"Your life isn't over," said Averman. "But we'll be sure to send flowers when you're in your coma."
"Thanks Averman, that helps," Karp rolled his eyes.
"We could wash the shirt," Jesse said helpfully.
"Do you know how to use the washing machine?" Karp asked hopefully.
"Yeah. Well, no, not really. But how hard could it be? My mom does it all the time with no problems. It's not rocket science."
"Please, Jess, I gotta wash this shirt," Karp said, pulling the shirt over his head and handing it to Jesse.
"Okay," Jesse nodded, taking the shirt as he headed toward the laundry room. The other boys followed him. "Here, Karp, you wear this while your shirt is being washed." Jesse handed Karp a big t-shirt that said Mall of America on it.
After dumping half the contents of something called "Pre-Wash treatment" on the shirt, the boys threw the shirt in the machine. It took them a while, but they finally figured out exactly which knobs to turn and buttons to push to get the machine to work. It was a great feat of teamwork. Jesse figured out what exactly to do with the detergent, Peter and Karp had carefully decided which dials to turn, and it was Averman who'd finally deduced that the machine did, in fact, need to be on in order to wash anything.
"Let's go clean up the kitchen before your mom comes back down," Peter said. "It'd be really bad if she saw the big mess."
"Being nice, Pete?" Averman asked.
"Hey, I practically live in this house because my own family blows. Cindy likes her kitchen clean, dammit, and hell will be raised if she finds a cherry pie on the floor," Peter said. "I saw her get mad at Terry for not cleaning up spilled milk once. It wasn't a good day."
Jesse laughed. "I remember that day. It was…well, there are no words."
The boys went back into the kitchen to clean up the messy cherry pie. They were careful not to dirty any more clothing; it took them long enough to get the washing machine to work right once, they didn't need to go through it twice.
After cleaning up after the mess, the boys sat around playing Nintendo until they heard the washing machine stop running.
"Hey, Karp, your shirt's done!" Peter said, walking toward the laundry room.
Wandering over, the boys peered into the room at the washing machine. Karp felt a pang of dread; this was the moment of truth. Either his shirt was clean, or his shirt was ruined. Either his parents were going to be really angry with him, or he was about to successfully escape a certain doom. The other boys were nervous too – probably not as nervous as Karp – but nervous. At nine years old, the boys had grown up together and had a tendency to stick together in situations against other kids, their own parents, and the world. They didn't want to see their friend crash and burn.
Jesse cautiously stepped toward the washing machine, as though it might jump up and attack him if he approached too quickly. With his back to his friends, he carefully opened the washing machine door, and pulled out a little white ball. Stretching it out, he surveyed it and heaved a sigh of relief. He turned around and held up the shirt to show his friends.
Miraculously, the shirt was white, and the boys cheered. They had successfully battled the cherry pie stain and had cleaned Karp's shirt! Victory was theirs!
"Now all you have to do is put it back on, and you're set!" Averman said cheerfully.
"But it's wet," Karp said, looking at it with a repulsed look.
"So what?" Averman asked.
"So what? It's wet. And wet clothes are gross," said Karp.
"Don't be such a girl," Averman said.
"I'm not a girl!"
"Then don't act like one!"
At this point, Peter rolled his eyes at both Karp and Averman and turned to Jesse. "Is there anything you can do?"
"Well there's the dryer," Jesse said, nodding at the other large machine in the room.
"Can we use that?" Karp asked hopefully.
"I don't know," said Jesse slowly. "I've heard that the dryer shrinks things."
"Shrinks things?"
"Yeah. Once when my mom did the laundry, Terry got his shirt back and it didn't fit anymore. Mom said it must have shrunk in the dryer," Jesse replied with a puzzled look. "I never understood how that happened."
"Is there a way to keep the shirt from shrinking in the dryer?" Peter asked.
"How can you keep it from doing something inside the dryer when you're on the outside?" Karp asked.
While the other three boys talked about the fact that the dryer would shrink Karp's shirt and lead to Karp's punishment, Jesse was brainstorming. He had an idea. It seemed like a good idea to him, but the little part of his brain that spoke in his mother's voice was saying, "Jesse Michael Hall, don't you dare!"
At nine years old, Jesse Michael Hall was pretty good at tuning out his mother's voice.
"I've got an idea," Jesse told his friends. The boys turned to look at him expectantly. "Maybe Karp could wear the shirt – "
"Not while it's wet!" Karp said.
"Would you listen first? Why don't you wear it in the dryer?"
"In the dryer?"
"Yeah," said Jesse matter-of-factly. "That way, it won't shrink without you knowing and if it starts to shrink, you can bang on the door and we'll let you out."
"That's your plan?" Karp asked in disbelief.
"Yeah. Isn't it brilliant?" Jesse grinned. The part of Jesse's brain that spoke in his mother's voice was now yelling, but Jesse didn't hear a thing.
"I've got to ride in the dryer?" Karp asked.
"Yeah."
"That doesn't seem like a good idea," Karp said hesitantly.
"Sure it is," Averman put in thoughtfully, "and we don't have any better ones to get the shirt dried quickly."
"Yeah. There's really no choice," Peter nodded.
"Come on, Karp, how bad of an idea could it be?" Jesse asked. "I thought of it."
"You think of a lot of things," Karp said.
"It's a good idea, Karp, trust me. I'm one of your best friends. If you can't trust me, who can you trust?" Jesse asked. His mother's voice in the back of his head was screaming bloody murder now, but Jesse wasn't listening.
Karp finally gave in. "Fine," he sighed. He pulled off his Mall of America shirt and pulled on the white one he was originally wearing. It was wet and clung to him and he shuddered because, after all, wet clothes were gross.
Getting Karp into the dryer was no easy task. He was really too tall to go straight in, so he had to curl up into the fetal position and the boys had to lift him up. It took a couple of tries before they finally managed to get him in.
"Now remember," Jesse said easily, "If the shirt begins to shrink, just bang on the door and yell, and we'll let you out."
"You're gonna be sitting in the laundry room?" Karp asked from the fetal position.
"Yeah," Peter said. "We won't hear you other wise."
"What are you gonna do while you wait?" Karp asked.
Jesse reached over to his jacket that was hanging on a hook near by and pulled out a deck of cards. "We'll play poker or something."
"You don't know how to play poker," Karp said.
"Fine, fine, we'll play Crazy Eights."
"And you'll open the door if I call?"
"Of course."
"Well," Karp said, "Better get this done, then."
Jesse, Peter, and Averman closed the dryer door and hit the start button. The dryer began to run, though it sounded very labored. The boys watched it for a few seconds before sitting down on the floor to deal the cards.
Less than two minutes later Jesse's mother entered the laundry room to grab her coat before work.
"Jesse, your father will be home in a little while, so stay out of trouble until he gets home. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yeah Mom," Jesse said as his mother checked to make sure her keys were in her purse.
"Why are you guys playing cards in the laundry room anyway? And who turned the dryer on? And where's Dave?" Cindy asked glancing at the boys on the floor.
The three boys didn't say anything, but all three of them glanced at the dryer, and it only took about a second for Jesse's mother to realize what was going on.
"Jesse Michael Hall!" she shouted, and took furious steps towards the dryer. Jesse, Peter, and Averman scrambled out from underneath her feet as she hurried to stop the dryer and open the door.
Karp was still in the fetal position, though barely. He'd spent about four minutes in the dryer and was obviously dizzy and slightly disoriented.
"Dave, dear, are you all right?" Cindy said, pulling him out.
"I think so," Karp said, his eyes wandering all over their sockets, trying to focus her face. "Why did you pull me out? The shirt isn't dry yet!"
Jesse's mother hugged Karp and examined him carefully to make sure he was all right. She then set him down with a glass of water, and put his shirt in the dryer – without him in it. She called her job and explained that she would be late. And after the shirt was dry and all was well, she sent Karp, Peter, and Averman home.
Cindy Hall then turned to eldest son and started yelling. Jesse knew there'd be no tuning out her voice this time. Karp, Peter, and Averman could hear her yelling as they headed down the front steps. They could hear her from the sidewalk. They could hear her nearly half a block away. They knew that Jesse wouldn't be coming out to play for quite some time.
"How was your ride in the dryer, anyway?" Peter asked Karp as they walked towards their homes, Cindy's voice still audible in the distance. "Was it like an amusement park ride?"
"Sorta. It made me dizzy."
"But you're okay though, right?" Peter asked.
"Yeah, I think so."
"You seem fine," Averman pointed out.
"Yeah," said Karp, tugging at his sleeves, "But after all that trouble, I think the shirt shrunk anyway."