Chapter 6

Shaggy was awakened by his phone making the tinkle-tink noise which indicated low battery. Wrestling it out of his pocket, he tapped the screen alive. The battery was way into the red and he had four messages from last night, all from Velma.

Message 1: (9:11 PM) How did day 1 go?

Message 2 : (9:28 PM) U must B working L8.

Message 3: (10:07 PM) Pls reply when U can

Message 4: (11:02 PM) I am going into full anxiety mode. Pls call.

Shaggy was racing against his battery and typed quickly, All ok. Battery dying. Will call l8er.

He heard the little fwoosh sound which meant the message had been sent and then saw the word 'Delivered' pop up on the screen right before it went black. Made it. He could now look around and take stock of his surroundings. The first thing that caught his attention was that he was next to an egg. Looking around further, he realized that he was surrounded by eggs and above him stood a mother dinosaur.

"Zoinks!" He bolted upright and leapt up, hitting the dinosaur's fiberglass chest with his head. He returned to earth with a knot on his head and the dawning realization that he was in the dinosaur exhibit at the park.

The sun was just rising, and he heard his name in the distance being repeated by several voices, "Shaggy!"

He was still in the outlaw outfit and had confirmed through the night that chaps absolutely did chafe and were not meant for running. The inside of his thighs burned. Someday, he would have to ask the cowboy in the Village People how he dealt with this. The answer would probably be something deep like 'Don't get chased by ghosts.'

"I'm over here!" He called back as he stood up.

The dinosaur exhibit was something of a maze and it took a few minutes before Kyle showed up, "Thank heavens. You're okay."

"How's Emma Jean?" The last Shaggy had seen, she was still hiding in the small closet in the western wear store.

Ralph smiled, "She's fine. Says you saved her."

"Say what now?"

"Oh, thank god!" This sudden statement was followed by running footsteps which were followed by Emma Jean throwing her arms around Shaggy's neck and pulling him close, "You're okay! Thank you for saving me!" She then tilted her head back and placed it directly in front of his while still holding tightly with his arms. Their lips were an inch apart and her eyes shown brightly. As confusing as female signals could be to a man, this one was pretty clear. He was supposed to seal the moment with a kiss.

Shaggy learned something new. It was possible to stutter in one's thoughts. Now… Now… This is… This… This is… n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-not good. Shaggy pulled his head back as far as he could on his shoulders which was maybe two more inches, "I'm glad you're safe, too." He waited while Emma Jean slid off him and resettled to the ground.

She stepped back, obviously embarrassed. "Now that we know you're safe, I guess we can get back to getting ready for the day." She smiled a fake, perky smile, "It's final week-end of the season!" She turned and strode off.

Ron walked up, shook his head and placed his hand on Shaggy's shoulder, "You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din." And he followed her.

xXx

Shaggy had wandered out into the desert, been bitten by a snake, and died. He was lying dead in the desert and his last thoughts were 'Why didn't Velma save me?"

That was the most logical hypothesis that Velma could deduce for why he had not replied to her texts from the previous night. The other option was that he had met another woman and run off. If she were a better person, she would be hoping for that one since that would mean that Shaggy wasn't dead. She was not a better person. She was holding her phone in her hand as she had been through the night, without sleeping, while waiting for his reply. It vibrated.

All ok. Battery dying. Will call l8er.

Okay. He wasn't dead. Her thumbs started flying on the screen, Why didn't you call last night? She waited but the little 'Delivered' note never popped up. His battery had obviously given up the ghost. The trouble is that now she was just left with the 'other woman' option. But Shaggy wouldn't do that to her. Would he? Having anxiety disorders and trust issues just plain sucked. She needed something to occupy her mind.

This line of thought took her to Scooby Doo. Scooby was clearly upset. It might be at her but considering that he had gone out with Amanda for a date and come home less than an hour later, the odds were that the focus of his anger was elsewhere. She was off the hook. That still didn't clear her conscience but at least it gave her some breathing room. If she couldn't allay her anxieties, then maybe she could brighten Scooby's day a little.

Since it was Saturday morning, she had no place to be and Scooby did not have to be at the restaurant until around 11:00. Saturday was usually 'huge breakfast' morning with Shaggy and Scooby filling the apartment with some of the most unusual cooking aromas to ever be created. Most of which were delightful to Shaggy and Scooby and just plain nasty to Velma. For her, Shaggy would prepare a side plate consisting of an egg white omelet with lean ham and a single slice of toast, no butter.

Her goal became to recreate this normal Saturday morning. The problem with this plan was that neither food nor cooking had ever interested her much and she knew little about it. So, she did her best to mimic what she had seen Shaggy and Scooby do in the past. She took two large frying pans, put them both on low heat, added olive oil to one and bacon grease to the other, and started throwing random things from the refrigerator into each. The smell was truly disgusting.

Scooby's door opened and he stepped out with his head hanging nearly to the floor. Velma spun and turned on her biggest and most-practiced smile, "Good morning, Scooby Doo!"

Scooby raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked terrible, "Rhy are roo smiling?"

Velma maintained the smile, which was hard. Smiles weren't sustainable for her. She then spoke in her perkiest voice, "Because, it's Saturday morning and we're going to have a big, nasty Saturday breakfast!"

Scooby sniffed at the air and said without any energy, "Smells rood."

Velma lost her façade, "It does? Really. To me it smells like yesterday's dumpster fire."

Scooby tried a smile, "Rhat's recause roo don't rave an educated palate." The smile faded quickly, "Rhank roo, rut I am rot hungry. Rye called into the restaurant and Rye'm not going in today." He dragged himself into the bathroom and closed the door.

Velma turned off the stove. If Scooby wasn't going to eat that gross stuff, she sure wasn't. She stepped over to the bathroom door and heard the toilet flush from inside and the water running in the sink, "Scooby, can we talk a little?"

The door opened. Scooby was on all fours which had his eyes about a foot lower than Velma's. He looked up at her, "Rwhat about?"

"What's bothering you."

"Rwhat good rould rhat do?"

"I know that I'm the poster child for internalizing, but sometimes it really helps to talk to somebody. Especially somebody who loves you."

"And roo rove me?"

This question caught her off guard, "Of course. You know I do."

"Do roo rove me all the rime, or just rhen I roe the rine."

"I don't understand the question."

He stared at her, "Res, roo do."

She replayed it in her head, Do you love me all the time, or just when I toe the line? Outside of her immediate family, Velma had loved very few people. The longest and deepest of those being Shaggy. But when she and Shaggy had tried to turn the romantic corner with their relationship the first time, he had not reacted in the way she had wanted. He had not toed the line. And she rejected him and walked away… for years. And she had spent those years in therapy learning that her rejection of Shaggy had tied directly to her trust and control issues. If she could not control him, then she could not trust him, then she could not love him. So, she had not really loved Shaggy but had only really loved an imaginary Shaggy that existed in her mind. If he did not fall in line with that false version of himself, then she could not love him. Control was tied inextricably with trust and love. Was she better now? Would she continue to trust Shaggy if he stepped out of line?

Did the same hold true for everyone she loved? Was her love conditional on them meeting her requirements? Was her love a tool she used to control them? Did she love Scooby Doo only when he acted like Scooby Doo was supposed to act? Did she love him when he was depressed and down, like now? Did she love him when she realized that he might possibly be looking at her sexually? That thought stuck. Did she? Or did she become afraid of him? Did he suddenly represent wrongness – something to be feared. Was a world where a talking dog was able to openly challenge and embrace who he truly was, rather than an idealized version of himself, a world in which she was comfortable? Or a world in which she was afraid?

Yes. She understood the question, but…

Scooby was standing in the bathroom door and patiently waiting for her next words.

She hated her next words, "I don't know."

xXx

Kyle was kind enough not to bring up the awkward scene with Emma Jean as Shaggy came into his office. It had taken Shaggy about an hour to shower, change clothes, and eat breakfast. Watching Shaggy eat, Ralph had been shaking his head, "We're going to have to restock early this month."

Now sitting in front of Kyle's desk, Shaggy smelled better, was temporarily not hungry, and looked like death warmed over. In his efforts to get away from the ghost, he had ducked into the dinosaur exhibit. The large dinosaur nest seemed to be as good a place as any to hide, and he had settled in there and promptly fallen asleep. There's nothing like sleeping uncovered, outdoors, squeezed into a bunch of concrete eggs, and with a maniacal ghost chasing you to give a person a terrible night's sleep. And that is exactly what Shaggy got. His back and knees had been popping all morning.

But now, Shaggy was hearing himself utter words that he never thought would come from his mouth, "I'd like to know more about your ghost."

Kyle leaned back in his chair, "It's kind of a long story."

Shaggy sighed, "Its looking like I'm going to be here all week-end. Give me the long version."

Kyle now leaned forward obviously relishing a new audience, "He's the ghost of Lucky Luke…"

"Your mascot."

"Much more than that. He became our mascot because Lucky Luke was one of the most popular comics in Europe for decades. It all started with a Belgian cartoonist… No. It all started with the Dalton Gang."

"Like the characters in your show?"

"Sort of. But it started with the real Dalton Brothers back in 1892. The Daltons were from Kansas and getting to be pretty famous as outlaws. They were getting lots of write-ups in the press coast to coast. And they liked it. Especially Bob. Bob Dalton got annoyed because Jesse James was getting more press coverage than he and his brothers were, so he decided to pull off a robbery so daring that every newspaper in the country would run it on the first page. He and the Dalton Gang would rob two banks, in the same town, at the same time, in broad daylight.

"For this, they chose to leave Oklahoma where they had made most of their career and return to Kansas where they were from. Coffeyville was the target. They rode into town and divided up into two groups. Bob and Emmet headed toward the First National Bank while Grat, along with Dick Broadwell and Bill Powers - who weren't Daltons - headed toward the C.M. Condon & Company Bank. While Bob and Emmet were walking along the street, a young storekeeper named Luke Welton stepped out on the walk, looked at the two men and recognized Emmet since they had gone to school together in Robbins Corners. He went back into his store until they had passed and then ran from store to store in town telling everyone he could that the Daltons were in town.

"The townspeople grabbed their guns and surrounded the two banks. The Daltons saw what was happening and tried to shoot their way out. They failed. All of them except for Emmet Dalton were killed and Emmet had 23 gunshot wounds. Emmet was sent to Kansas State Penitentiary in Lansing and served 14 years. He was paroled in 1906. He moved to Hollywood, California and worked as a real estate agent, an actor, technical support for western films, and he wrote and published four books about the experiences of himself and his brothers.

"After the Daltons were killed in Coffeyville, Luke Welton had become something of a local celebrity for his part in the events. He gave up his store and began dressing as a cowboy and traveling from town to town to tell people of his exploits. Those exploits grew with each telling and a writer from back East heard him telling his story in a theater in Abilene for a nickel a ticket. The writer then worked with Luke to pen a series of dime novels based on the Western Saga of Luke Welton. These never found a major audience and most were destroyed before the end of the 19th century.

"This brings us back around to the Belgian cartoonist. His name was Maurice De Bevere, and he was obsessed with the Old American West. In the mid`1930's, when he was in his teens, he received a copy of Emmet Dalton's second book, When the Daltons Rode, and began dreaming of being a cowboy lawman. He harassed the three bookstore owners in Kortrijk, Belgium about any and every book they could find on the Old West. One of them happened upon one of the Luke Welton dime novels and gave it to Maurice as a gift due to its tattered condition and the fact that it was missing some pages. Then, World War II stopped everything in Europe. Just after the end of the war, when Maurice had just turned 25, he was able to borrow a copy of a complete original hand-written manuscript of Emmet Dalton's first book, Beyond the Law, which included several parts which had been edited out of the final published book.

"One of these parts talked about the storekeeper in Coffeyville, Kansas. In it, Emmet noted that he had recognized the storekeeper as Luke Welton and knew that the storekeeper had recognized him. He had thought about going in and killing Luke to keep him quiet but had decided that he didn't have time. He had concluded the paragraph with the statement, That Luke sure was lucky that day.

"Maurice began working on the first Lucky Luke comic Arizona 1880 in early 1946 and it was published in 1947. Maurice wrote under the pen name, Morris. He waited to finally write about Lucky Luke and the Dalton Brothers until he was able to go to the United States and ride through the West. He wanted to see it and feel it before putting pen and paint to paper for the epic story. It was 1954 before he printed the story which borrowed the title of Emmet Dalton's biography, Beyond the Law.

"Now, we're finally getting to the part which ties Lucky Luke to this park. The Lucky Luke comics were a huge hit in Europe and the publishers tried to create an English version for the American market. It didn't take. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the comics portrayed all Americans as racist morons. Lucky Luke was the smartest of the bunch and he still wasn't as smart as his horse. In the 1960's, Hanna Barbara decided to try and turn the comic into a cartoon and made a big push to give Lucky Luke an American identity. They went to theme parks around the country and offered the use of the Lucky Luke copyrighted materials at bargain basement prices. My grandfather was a cheap old bastard and jumped at the chance. And we've stuck with Lucky Luke ever since."

Shaggy caught his eyes just about to slam shut after this long narrative and spoke just to keep himself awake, "But what does this have to do with the ghost?"

Kyle smiled, "My dad made up that story to scare the summer help since they were almost always teen-agers and loved to be scared."

"I don't recall such a period in my life."

"Be that as it may, my dad concocted the story that the spirit of Lucky Luke was ticked off at being made into a cartoon…"

"I can identify with that one."

"…and was determined to drive all of the theme parks around the country that used this cartoon for profit out of business. He would even dress up as Lucky Luke and go around the park chasing the kids. I was one of the kids being chased for several years until I figured out what was going on. Then Dad would let me be the ghost of Lucky Luke, but I quit doing that a few years ago. I thought Tommy might be interested but he wasn't. Some traditions just die off."

"Until this new ghost showed up."

"Yeah, that was a surprise. I thought, at first, that one of the other old-timers who knew the old racket had picked it up again for laughs. But it wasn't funny anymore after Jerry died. And the Ghost of Lucky Luke was never pink. And that's where we are."

"And when did people first start seeing it?"

"About a week or so before Jerry died."

The next part was going to be dicey, "I'm going to need to look at your personnel files."

"Say what?! You can't do that!"

"I'm afraid that your contract with the insurance company says otherwise. I'm willing to sign an NDA if you wish."

"Does the contract really say that?"

"It does. I can get you the paragraph number if you want."

"Damn, I really should start reading things before I sign them. What other files does it say you can look at?"

Shaggy shrugged, "All of them."

"Does it say that I have to help you?"

"No. It does not."

"Well, all of the files are in those file cabinets along that wall. I think that I'll spend the next couple of hours on the grounds. Knock yourself out." And he left.

Shaggy had been prepared for that to go worse. If someone had asked for carte blanche access to his restaurant files, he would have raised holy hell. He looked at the row of four-drawer file cabinets and took a deep breath. Now would probably be a good time to call Velma and bring her up to speed. That was his optimistic way of thinking about how he was going to explain why he didn't call her the previous night. He pulled the charge cord from his backpack and plugged it into the wall next to the visitor's chair. With no ghost to run from and no suspect to interview, sitting down seemed to trigger his body to let him know how tired he was. He sat in the chair and just stared at the phone for a moment. His eyelids were getting heavy but the more he delayed calling Velma, the more worried and upset she would be. It would be dishonest for him to think that he was as nervous about her being worried as he was about her being upset – at him.

He touched her contact and the phone rang one time before she answered, "Where have you been? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. It was a hell of a night."

"What happened?"

"What always happens? I got chased by a damn ghost. Are there really that many ghosts around? This is ridiculous."

"I like that better than my other theory. I was worried that you were involved with another woman." She waited a moment for Shaggy to respond. When he didn't, "You weren't, were you?"

There are thousands of potential responses to this question but only one correct one - that being 'no'. Shaggy, still being new at the whole relationship thing, chose a different path, "Not really."

The pause that ensued had the feel of the tremors before a volcanic eruption. Velma's voice came out with zero emotion, "Not really?"

For a relationship to be successful. The truth is necessary. Nothing but the truth is essential. The whole truth…? Shaggy was about to have a crash course in Husband 101.

He launched in, "Well, there's this woman here who tried to kiss me this morning…"

"What did she look like?"

Not the first question that Shaggy had anticipated, "I don't know… she's about 5'-6" or 5'-7", blonde hair, blue eyes…"

"I mean is she pretty?"

The trap was springing all around him, but he saw no way out but through, "I guess some people would consider her pretty enough." For those of you keeping score at home, subtract ten points from Shaggy.

"Are you some people?"

"Uh-h-h-h-h, I suppose she's pretty."

"What does she do there?" This seemed tame enough.

"She's one of the actors in the show. She used to be a dancer in Vegas." Back to the part about the whole truth.

"She's beautiful, tall, blonde and has a dancer's body. So, she's everything I'm not."

"You know I think you're beautiful and your body is second to none."

"You were comparing my body to hers?" Picture a World War II airplane in flames and spiraling into the ocean.

"No! Not at all!"

"So, you weren't thinking about me at all as you were ogling her body?" The plane hits the ocean and explodes.

"Ogling?! Who said anything about ogling? There was no ogling! Zilch-o on the ogling-o. No ogling. Nada." There was something about the silence on the other end of the line that was familiar, "Wait. Are you finding this funny?"

Her voice, as always, revealed nothing, "Yes. Yes, I am."

Relief flooded over him, "Thank goodness that you're not mad at me."

"I'm certainly not thrilled that a beautiful woman is trying to kiss you. Why does she want to kiss you, anyway?"

"She says that I saved her from the ghost."

"Did you?"

"Sorta kinda. I tried to trick him into leaving – which works a lot better with Scooby than without him – and it backfired. He started chasing me and then she was able to get away."

"So, you inadvertently saved her."

"Basically."

As fun as tormenting Shaggy had been, he was interested in the mystery, "Tell me about this ghost."

"He's the ghost of Lucky Luke…"

"The European comic book character?"

"You've heard of it?"

"I read an article about it a few years ago. Go on."

"He showed up about a week before the person died here and is still running around chasing people. He's dressed like a cowboy, has a gun, and glows pink."

"Any reason to believe that the ghost is tied to the death?"

"Since he showed up right before the death, I need to prove otherwise before I can write my report."

"I agree. That's too much of a coincidence. It's logical to assume that he's somehow tied to the death. I wish I was there to help."

"Believe me, I do, too. In more ways than one."

"You need me to protect you from all of the women throwing themselves at you. You chick magnet."

"Sure, a chick magnet whose voice sounds like a cat in a blender."

"You don't have to sing. Just look pretty, you sexy thing."

He smiled for the first time, "You know, you're getting pretty good at talking dirty."

"I looked up some things on the internet."

Now he laughed out loud, "Of course you did. How are things at home?"

Her mood dropped, "I don't know. Something happened to Scooby last night. He's really depressed about it."

"Have you tried talking to him?"

"Yes, but I'm not… you. It's not something I'm good at."

"Just love him and listen when he's ready to talk."

"Okay, I'm not going anywhere today. Maybe he'll want to talk later."

Shaggy let out a long sigh, "Well, I'm looking at a wall full of file cabinets each of which is filled with files that won't read themselves."

"Don't breathe in too many dust mites."

"Did you really have to say that?"

"I did. I really, really did. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Shaggy ended the call and looked at the cabinets. Dust mites. Probably millions of them. Just waiting for a nose like his to infest by the droves. There were probably dust mite real estate agents chomping at the bit to start a boom market on nasal condos. Shaggy knew he was going to think of nothing else for the rest of the day.