Let me ask you something: can a story ever possibly be TOO random and pointless? Er... looks like I proved that in the first chapter. And because of such things, I've decided to revert DIP2 back to a more DIP1-esque setting. In other words, this chapter will begin to develop a plot. So without any further ado, I bring you, um... it!

Dragon in Paradise 2

YFWE

Chapter 2: The Adventure Begins

It has been said that four humans and a dog inside an RV for 'x' amount of days can equal pure chaos.

However, Jake, Trixie, Spud, Grandpa, and Fu are out to try and reverse this trend.

So is Jack Nicholson. But not really. I only put him in there because I owe him for watching 'Anger Management,' which I hated more than Mr. T hates fools.

So the day after the whole trip was planned, it was time for packing. According to Grandpa's announcement the previous night, the 'bus would be leaving at nine o'clock sharp, in the morning.' It would wait for absolutely no one.

It was because of this that Jake Long was a bit rushed that morning. You see, although he had set his alarm for seven, it had never gone off and thus he woke up at eight, with only an hour to get ready. It's quite likely that the US government had something to do with this. You never know, though.

Thus, the yells and cries that reverberated from the walls in Jake's home were quite familiar for the next hour. (I could say something really sick there but won't.) You see, Jake had not 'planned ahead' as the Travel Channel tells you to, and coincidentally, he had not done the least bit of packing. And without knowing exactly how long they were to be gone, it could be a very hard thing.

"Mom, I can't find my afro comb!" Jake yelled downstairs that morning as he packed.

"What exactly do you need an afro comb for, young man?" Mr. Long asked as he walked up the stairs to Jake's bathroom. "Better yet, why do you have one?"

"Um... it's for Trixie?" Jake half-lied. 'Cause it technically was Trixie's comb from about two years before, when she had this humongous afro atop her head. Because both Jake and Trixie knew that his parents would never allow him to get a 'fro, they figured that the most opportune time to get one would be over this road trip, when he would have no parents to 'bring him down' and disallow his new choice in hairstyle. Of course, Fu and Grandpa would still be there... but they'd get used to it- especially considering that Fu once had one himself.

At around this time, Jake began to wonder to himself if Trixie had lice. 'Cause that would blow more than... you know what, never mind that.

Anyway, before I get too off topic, let's get back to... the afro comb, yes. Sounds like a Seinfeld episode, doesn't it?

"Hm... okay, but as long as it's Trixie's...," Mr. Long concluded. "I guess it's okay. But let me tell you, mister- if I find out that you were using the comb, you'll be grounded quicker than you can say 'Shake dat laffy taffy.'"

"Dad... promise me you'll never say that again."

"I ain't frontin' no promises, homie J," Mr. Long said... gangsta-like.

"Uh... word?" said Jake.

"Hey! There will be none of that talk in this house!" Mr. Long yelled.

"Wait... what the h- you just..."

"Here's your afro comb" Haley interrupted, skipping into the bathroom gleefully (I mean, wouldn't you if your older brother was leaving for a while?) and handing the comb to Jake, "I was using it to try and unstick my piano keys after YOU spilled your Sprite on it!"

"Hey, what can I say? Beethoven and Sprite don't mix!" said Jake half-defensively.

Haley and Mr. Long left hastily, and Jake trotted to his bedroom, where the rest of his things were already packed.

Ironically, the moment he walked inside, his cell phone rang.

"Hello?" Jake asked after rushing over to the phone and almost missing the call.

"Jake, it's me," came a voice on the other end.

"Who's 'me.' Be specific."

The voice sighed. "It's Ben Affleck."

"Ben Affeck! Whoa... how did you get my cell phone number?"

"It's Spud, dammit!"

"Spud? Well, why didn't you say it was you? Man, you sound different... what's up?"

"Well," Spud started, "I'm just nervous, that's all. I guess I really don't know what to pack."

"Nervous? Of packing?"

"Nah... dude, I've never been out of the state of New York before."

Silence on the other end of the phone.

"It's not that big a deal, Spud... it's all still America..."

"...minus the smog," Spud added.

"You'd miss it?"

"I dunno... I just can't picture a world with clean air. Only in the movies."

"Whatever, dude," sighed Jake. "Look, you need to pack clothes, a toothbrush... soap, shampoo... something to do... eh, that's really it."

"Do we need accelerant?"

Yet another silence on the end of the phone.

"What?"

"Well, you never know when you need a good fire..."

"Spud...," Jake stated in partial disbelief, "I'm gonna speak for Gramps when I say... no. Safety issues."

"What, you don't trust me?" Spud questioned.

"Not with a flammable object, I don't."

"Whatever. How bout Sludge Mummies 2? I got that Spring Break, remember?"

"Unfortunately. Apparently, you made Trixie watch it with you ten times."

"Eleven."

"Dude, I'm hanging up! Pack what you think is best, a'ight? I've got my own things to do."

On that note, Jake DID hang up, and sat there in silence for a few moments, before finally gathering his gear and heading downstairs. It was 8:30. The 'bus' left in thirty minutes.

(End)

Have you ever had a day where you kept hearing the same song over and over, so much that you get it stuck in you head, then it goes away for a few seconds, until the song resurfaces somewhere in the outside world?

This "phenomenon" was occurring in Jake Long's life that particular morning. Like... you know when Mr. Long began singing (or... rapping, I guess) the Laffy Taffy song? Well... then the song came on the radio inside their house. THEN, as Jake was walking to Grandpa's house, the guy inside the ice cream truck (or, van... really- is an ice cream truck really a truck, or a van?) was playing it. And once he reached the shop, guess who was singing it there?

No, not Grandpa. Wouldn't that be hilarious, though? I mean, really...

Nah, it was Trixie. THAT made more sense, of course. Maybe that's stereotyping, though. You be the judge.

So here it was. Quarter 'til nine, and everyone was there... well, scratch that, there was no Spud.

"Where could he be?" Grandpa asked from the driver's seat of the RV. He was already inside and ready to go. How unfortunate. (For Spud)

"Well... he called me about twenty minutes ago, and he hadn't even began packing, so..."

"I guess he will not be going then! We leave now! Get on!"

"But Gramps..."

"NOW! I want to make the highway before noon!"

Jake and Trixie sighed. Wow... looks like they really would have to leave Spud...

They walked sadly up the two-step stairs and into the RV.

They heard the engine roar to life.

Well, technically, it wasn't really a roar. More of a whirr. I mean, show me a camper that roars when it starts, and I'll eat my Sprite bottle. Anywho...

Jake stared toward the front of the camper, and then realized something.

"Um... no one here has their driver's license, do they?"

Silence.

"Great. Just great, guys. Dammit, what are we supposed to do now?"

"Well, Fu has his dog license..."

"ENOUGH WITH THE DOG LICENSE STUFF; YOU PULLED THAT LAST TIME!"

"Maybe I can be of some assistance..."

The voice was unfamiliar, yet familiar at the same time. As in- it wasn't a voice that they necessarily heard in person, but they HAD heard it.

"Um, Gramps... why is James Earl Jones in our camper?" asked Jake.

"Voice of Mufasa on Lion King, duh," Fu chimed in,. "We're all Disney characters here... we all owe each other something."

"Oh... I never thought of it that way...," said Jake.

"Yes, well," James Earl Jones said, "I'm only taking you all to the RV Park in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Then, some other totally unrelated celebrity will drive you to your next spot. It's like the Underground Railroad. Wait, no it's not. Wait... it is. Ah, never mind. Give me the wheel."

Grandpa relinquished the driver's seat, and James sat down and turned on the radio. "I hope you don 't mind if we listen to CNN Radio here.

"No, we don't mind, but... why?" Fu asked.

"THIS IS CNN," James Earl Jones' voice blared through the speakers.

"That's why."

"Wow... how much money do you make every time they play that?"

"Does it matter?"

"Eh, no..."

"Alright, then. We need to roll if we want to get into Harrisburg before sundown. Let's move!"

He put the RV into gear, and slammed the accelerator to the floor.

BAM!

"What happened?" screamed James.

"Dude... you put it in reverse!" Jake yelled. "You ran into the back of the garage!"

"That's not all he ran into..." Trixie added.

"NO! Not my cardboard cut-out of Lindsey Lohan!" Fu exclaimed.

"Too bad! We're leaving!" James Earl Jones threw it into drive, and the camper lurched forward this time, and out the garage door.

But lo, James then slammed on the brakes.

"WHAT NOW?"

"It's Spud!" Trixie said, pointing at the boy that had stood in front of the camper, preventing it from leaving. Kinda like that guy who stood in front of those tanks in Tiananmen Square. Man, he's my hero...

The camper door was thrown open by Spud, who seemed both out of breath and in complete horror. "HURRY! GET US OUT OF HERE!"

"Spud, what's..."

"I just saw Dick Cheney out on the street! Do you want to be shot?"

"Hell no!" James Earl Jones yelled. He floored it in the right direction this time, and the camper screeched out of the garage and onto the road.

And as the RV reached the city limits and prepared to board the highway, it was said that you could hear the faintest sound of a shotgun in Central Park. Let's hope it had something to do with Jack Nicholson. Really...

(End)

So here they were an hour later.

Grandpa and Fu were asleep in the back bedroom.

James Earl Jones was bored and had resorted to counting the number of times he heard his voice on CNN.

Spud was watching Sludge Mummies 2. And, of course, Trixie was watching it with him. She claims it beat listening to CNN.

Jake was actually getting a dose of three noises- the two old timers' snoring, some Commie reporter on CNN, and Sludge Mummies 2. How on earth was he keeping his sanity?

I don't know, but this was becoming the most boring road trip. And we can't have that, can we? So I decided to make something happen.

They had to get off the highway for a few minutes because of a detour, so they pulled off into a town called Coconut. Weird name. But not nearly as weird as what happened next.

BAM!

"Dammit, Mr. Jones... what'd you run into this time?"

"Nothing!"

"Holy shit...," Jake's eyes widened as he watched...

"The freaking left-middle tire just blew off!"

See, this RV had six wheels... two in front, two in middle, and two in back. And for reasons unbeknownst to even myself, one of them flew off.

"FORE!" James Earl Jones yelled as the tire went careening towards a group of pedestrians on the sidewalk.

It first smashed into a car. A Hummer, to be exact.

"Man, I hope they had just saved 15 percent on their car insurance by switching to Geico...," Spud added.

It bounced off the Hummer... and hit someone.

But not just anyone. THE one.

"...that guy that got hit; he was Chuck Norris, wasn't he?" Trixie asked Jake.

"...yeah, I think it is."

"Goody."

"I just hit Chuck Norris? DAMN!" the driver screamed, and once again floored the RV.

"We only have five tires!" Spud yelled.

And once he said this, the camper began to lean to the left...

"Shit. Everyone, go shift all the weight to the right!"

"Alright!" everyone agreed. The three teens, Grandpa, and Fu stood opposite where the tire had blown off- about right above the right side tire.

Jake stared out the window.

"Um... Chuck Norris is chasing us."

"So?"

"Well... he's catching up."

"We need more weight!" James yelled. "Quick, begin piling all the luggage on the right side!"

"Man... where's Michael Moore when you need him?" asked Spud.

"Right here."

"Mr. Moore?" Spud stared at the huge man that had somehow appeared right beside him.

"Nah, it's me," came Jake's voice. Put simply, it was a costume. "I got this for Halloween. It's got all his body weight and everything."

"Wow... that makes no sense!"

"Glad to hear it."

"It's working!"

It WAS working. The camper had begun to even out, and now, it seemed like they were pulling away from Chuck Norris...

"Uh, Mr. Jones? How far do we have to go? I dunno how much longer we can hold this..."

"Seven more hours. I'd suggest that you all take a long nap... but stay there. Chuck Norris does not slow easily."

"So we noticed."

(End)

And so, now we join the merry bunch seven hours later. Everyone was sound asleep- except for James Earl Jones, who had officially counted his voice clip on CNN 60 times since they had left New York. Grandpa had actually became a dragon to provide more balance, and it had helped. Besides the slight lean, you could barely notice that the camper was missing a wheel.

It's probably illegal, though. So it was definitely a good thing when the Harrisburg RV Park came into view. They were also about out of gas. And butter. So they had to use margarine. That doesn't matter, though. ...or does it?

"We're here, everyone!" James Earl Jones called from the driver's seat. Slowly, everyone awoke.

So as soon as James had brought the RV to a complete stop, everyone rushed out of it. You see, the bathroom broke down somewhere along the New York state border.

But, you know what sucks?

All that weight holding the camper straight was now gone.

So you know what that means...

BAM! The camper came falling, James Earl Jones and all.

"Thanks, guys," he coughed, climbing out of the camper.

They were already gone, so... talk about a lost cause.

Anyway, it took about ten minutes before all of them were out of the bathroom. After that, it was time to look for a new tire.

But that could take a while.

So thus went the entire group, down the dirt road to the other campers... where more surprises than... well, non-surprises would face them.

Perhaps it was almost fitting, as their figures became smaller and smaller as they ventured down the road, that this possibility would be realized, as a dark, shadow-like figure appeared behind a tree on the side of the road, watching patiently, waiting to strike...

END CHAPTER

Aight! Finally updated. And now that we're on the road, this should start to get good next chapter. So... read and review! Bye!

YFWE