The trio had gotten on Figueroa, and turned left onto Main. Peach Creek was a little town, and Main Street ran only for about three miles, before turning back into Highway 502 and heading out into the country. Getting up to speed, the van began to shudder, and at fifty miles an hour, Ed skittered across the carpeted floor like a runaway jackhammer.

"Make it stop, Eddy!" The lump tried to grab the bed to stable himself, but only succeeded in pulling the covers off.

Eddy gave Double D a dirty look. "I thought you fixed this thing, sockhead."

Double D clutched his hands in his lap, trying to look civil. "Eddy, don't you recall purchasing used tires, despite the protest of both your father and I?"

"Yeah, what about 'em?" Eddy pulled out to pass, blowing by the slower traffic.. In a double yellow zone.

"It seems that they're in need of balancing!... though, there's very little tread left to balance."

"Then why didn't ya balance 'em before ya put 'em on?"

"Eddy, come now. There was only so much I could do with the provisions provided! If you'd just save the money to take the van to a tire shop, I'm sure they would offer you a reasonable deal."

The driver always feels he must defend his car's honor. Eddy was no different.

"I ain't payin' no shop to touch my van! Only I work on her!"

"Eddy, may I remind you that Rolf and I swapped in the new drivetrain?"

Eddy gritted his teeth. "Yeah, but… I'm talkin' about the important stuff?"

Edd grinned smugly at his handiwork. "Isn't an engine and transmission "important?""

"Double D, if this is about the money owed, I promise I'll- Hey, look, we're here!"

Now in what small towns consider 'downtown', they pulled into the parking lot of a burger joint. Instead of hitting the drive-in, Eddy swung her into a parking spot near the dumpster. He drew dangerously near to an old Coupe Deville on the passenger side, but didn't hit… They'd have a tough time getting back in, though. By his standards, good enough!

Eddy flung open his door and hopped out. "Okay, boys, I'll be right back. You don't get in trouble, okay? And don't eat my speakers, Lumpy."

Ed, who'd been eyeing the subwoofer, blushed and looked away. Edd, however, was not amused.

"Eddy, this is hardly the time to stop for lunch."

"Lunch? Ha! We ain't gettin' lunch. My guy works here!"

Double D blinked. "What kind of master forger works at Burger Trench? Surely can find better."

"Not for five bucks!" Eddy snickered, "I'm totally screwin' him over! He owes me bad, after this stint we did workin' at the orchards last summer.. And, lucky for us, he's a pro at makin' driver's licenses. A real artichoke!"

Edd blinked. "Artisan, Eddy."

Ed, who was busy bouncing on the waterbed, paused briefly, confused. "...Who is Anne?"

Eddy ran his fingers through his hair, dusted himself off and put on his poker face. "Don't worry, Double D, he's the best. In a few minutes, we'll be walkin' outta here two years older, with the ID to prove it!"

The two watched as their short companion strolled over to the service entrance. He glanced side-to side, he found no-one around, and knocked.

After a few moments, the door cracked. A lone eye surveyed the parking lot.

A cracking, teenage voice drifted out. "...Who's there?"

"It's Eddy, open up."

"...I'm sorry, sir, but customers aren't allowed to use-"

Eddy glowered at him and put his hands on his hips. "Come on! Y'know, from the orchard last summer?"

The voice paused suddenly, as if recollecting; the door squeaked open a bit more, the creature behind observing Eddy. "..Ohhh, yeah! Didn't you fake heatstroke and go home early?"

Eddy scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets. He slouched, and turned to find Double D and Ed snickering beside the van.

"Just open the door already, sheesh!"

The door creaked open, revealing a fat, pimply white teen in his dorky Burger Trench uniform- blue visor hat, blue shirt, brown khaki shorts. Bewildered by the van, he scratched his head of brown hair, then looked back to Eddy. His nametag read 'SCOOT' in cheap Comic Sans.

His face betrayed no emotion, just indifference and a lack of sleep- Both results of his career in retail.

Scoot jerked his thumb at the two beside the van. "..Who're those guys?"

Eddy smiled, trying to gain favor. "Uh.. They're just my pals, Scoot! This is Ed.."

A dorky wave. "Hullo!"

"...And Double D!"

Double D stepped forward and a hand extended to shake. "Greetings, erm… Scoot!" He smiled warmly, attempting to be polite. "It certainly is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

Scoot shook his hand limply and let his arms dangle at his sides. "It's, uh… Scott, actually. They messed up my nametag, and.. Never got me a replacement."

Double D's smile became strained. "Yes, I...see. How unfortunate."

Eddy began to shove him back toward the van, laughing. "Oh, good old Double D! What a character, let's give it up!" When they were safely away from Scoot, he narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. "What the hell are you doin?"

"I'm only answering his question, Eddy, he asked for my name!"

"Just let me conduct business, will ya?"

Edd rolled his eyes. "Oh, very well, but if your man Scott there decides he's uncomfortable with the concept of constancy, then don't complain to me!"

Eddy left the indignant Double D to mosey back to Scoot, who waited patiently.

"So," he squeaked, "What can I do for you?"

A police car cruised by on the main drag, and Eddy flinched slightly, tipping his nonexistent hat to them. By the time Scoot turned to look, they were already gone.

Eddy leaned in to whisper to him. He could smell the grease from the fryers. "..You still make those IDs, right?"

"Yeah, but minimum wage went up, so I haven't done one in a while.. You buyin'?"

Eddy produced his wallet, flashing a few bills. "...Maybe I am.. I need booze for a party tonight."

Scoot stared vacantly at the money, sneezed, then looked blankly to Eddy.

"This is five bucks."

Eddy frowned and folded his arms. "...So what?"

"It costs me twenty to get the materials..."

Grumbling, Eddy produced his wallet and began to fork out more dough. "Fine, I'll give you twenty-five."

Scoot, eyes widening slightly at the money, began to stuff it back in Eddy's wallet. Trying to keep eye contact at the same time, cash and bills spilled all over the payment.

Eddy was furious. "What are you tryin' to do, attract hobos?!"

"I gotta work all day today; I ain't got time to make 'em.."

Scoot was grabbed by his colar, as Eddy hopped on his stomach and began to shake him. "You backstabbin' son of a bitch! After all I did for you, you're gonna hang us out to dry like this?!"

The fast-food worker was still quite a bit larger than Eddy, and simply plucked him off, setting him gently on the ground. "Eddy, you gave me a ride home once and I bought you lunch. I think I've settled my debts."

Eddy huffed indignantly. "Whatever, thanks for nothin'... You ain't nothin' without me, Scoot!"

Scoot's deadpan expression hardly changed. "I'm my own man, Eddy."

A voice like thunder threw the service door off its hinges, and Scoot whirled around, flinching. His face went from sub-zero zen to panic attack in about half a second at the sound of his angry boss.

"UNDERWOOD! HOW LONG'S IT TAKE TO SMOKE A CIGARETTE? GET BACK TO WORK!"

"C-coming, Mr. Antonucci!" And, thus, he hurried off, leaving Eddy and company dejected and hopeless.

Ten minutes later, they were back in the van, cruising out of town to the east. They were heading into a basin of sunflower fields and farms, with the foothills of the mountains beyond. Ed had his head stuck out the passenger window, tongue flapping in the breeze while Double D and Eddy discussed the next course of action.

"Now that your "guy" is out of the question," Double D announced amiably , "what say we return home, and procure something legal to drink? I know of some nice herbal tea, and some crackerjack flavors of Crystal Light, sure to-"

"Crystal Light?!" Eddy cocked back his head and laughed. The van swerved slightly, and Ed's tongue smacked into a passing telephone pole. "God, you're so lame! And who said anything about goin' home? I know a place we can find all the booze we need."

Eddward frowned, and shook his head. "I refuse."

Eddy's smile was gone in an instant, replaced with confusion. "..What?"

"I know what you're suggesting, and I won't participate."

"Oh, fine, be a stick-in-the-mud. All I need is Lumpy, and we'll clean the place out!"

Ed, now hopping on the waterbed, concurred. "Cleanliness is next to gaudiness, Eddy!"

"Yeah, whatever.. We're comin' up on it now, so play it cool and follow my lead."

"It" was a small, ramshackle filling station along the highway. Under a full blue sky, against the backdrop of the mountains, lay 'Emmet's Seed and Feed', a low, boxy wooden shape among the farmer's fields. Two pumps out front, with exorbitant prices, a small case labeled 'VHS RENTALS' on the porch, and a short-sighted, elderly clerk- the titular Emmet.

Eddy had learned of Emmet Zeats from his older brother. Apparently, even in Bro's day, the white-haired old fellow hadn't been too quick. But, now, he had reflexes of a particularly speedy sloth, and the sight of a Mexican cave-fish. When Eddy had gotten drunk in high school, he'd always come to Emmet's for a chaser. He'd only stopped after a charge of shoplifting- when a deputy sheriff walked in the store while he was doing his thing, literally bumping into him during the escape.

The van chattered across the gravel lot, and parked at the pumps. A burly man in a trucker's cap began to wash the windshield, as Eddy got out and walked to the door. A moment later, the rear doors swung forth, and Ed rolled out onto the ground, having shifted during the ride.

Eddy turned back to face Double D. "...You comin', sockhead?"

Double D crossed his arms and harrumphed contemptuously', turning away.

Eddy furrowed his brow, and motioned for Ed to come along.

They pushed open the door to find the store as it had always been- dusty, creaky, and full of odd canned goods. Hank Williams Senior crooned from a tinny speaker mounted somewhere above their heads, while Emmet himself sat behind the counter, staring vacantly outward with a slight smile.

It was he door-chime that alerted him, and he waved to nobody in particular. "Come on in! Door's open!... ain't it?"

Ed was pleased to meet such a jovial fellow. He opened his mouth for a greeting, before being slapped by Eddy.

"Keep it down," he whispered." Ed nodded in agreement, as he suddenly understood the gravity of the situation,

The two began to comb the isles, while Emmet rambled on.

"Nice weather, eh? Y'know, I was just hearin', it's gonna rain t'night... Did'ja hear 'bout Palmer's thresher? Tweekers stole the wire right outta her!... If I could get my hands on 'em, I'd strangle 'em!..."

Eddy went along the refrigerated aisle, blindly grabbing while checking for Emmet. Ed, meanwhile, crashed through the store, stuffing all he could into his coat. All the while, Emmet's monologue droned on and on.

"..work like mules, those ones, but I don't know what they're prayin' to.. They say they're Protestant, but you can never tell these days."

They reconvened by the door, and Eddy was delighted to find his buddy's jacket dragging the ground; as he walked, bottles clattered and clinked. Ed's toothy grin was an indicator of his immense pride at the acquisitions, and Eddy was so overjoyed he mirrored it.

"How'd I do, Eddy?"

Eddy couldn't help but explode with laughter. "You sure were thorough, that's for sure!"

That was their mistake.

Emmet finally realized what was going on. Slowly, he spun himself around to look at his monitors. No, the Ed-boys hadn't checked for cameras, nor did they take into account their gross underestimate of the old man's common sense. After so many lootings from everyone from local kids to the Lemon Brook Lumpers, he had installed a security system…

And now he saw clearly.

"..Hh….Hey, BUBBA!" he hollered horsely, "We got SHOPLIFTERS! Come quick!"

Eddy's optimism disappeared, and he shot for the door. "We've been made, lumpy! We gotta scram!" Ed went dashing after him, the coat dragging across the linoleum floor and down the steps. The immense treasure kicked up gravel as they made for the van, piling in.

Emmet pushed the silent alarm. In reality, this did not call the police; it was merely linked to a buzzer in the outhouse nearby, where Bubba- his attendant- lay, asleep on the pot. Jarred awake, Bubba grabbed his conveniently-placed machete, and came charging out with his pants between his legs. He waved the knife above his head and screamed, like some parody of a Vandal warrior; Double D, looking up from a book by Dr. Bohr, was mortified at this sight.

"Eddy, hurry!"

"I'm tryin', I'm tryin'! Lumpy ain't gonna-"

At last, they managed to shove the coat-tails of Ed's jacket- which was fit to burst- into the van. Eddy dived in the back, while Double D slid over to the driver's side, turning the key.

The van cranked, but did not start.

"EDDY!"

Double D locked the doors just in time for Bubba to reach them. Cranking and cranking, the Eds prayed the old van would start, while the hefty man tried to break out the glass.

Suddenly, the realization hit Eddy.

"Double D, pump the gas!"

Eddward did, and the van fired with a road. Slamming it into drive, he punched it, and peeled out. The van spewed gravel all over Bubba, knocking him onto his back and shattering the station's storefront windows. The van went thundering away, leaving a half-blind old man, an empty liquor store, and a hillbilly with no pants on, choking on exhaust and rage.

A few miles further out, Double D pulled the van off the road at a turnout, parking it behind a billboard.

"That was some raid, Eddy!" he announced with an air of sarcasm, "Tell me, do you think they've taken down our plate number? Or, perhaps they're simply looking for THE ONLY PURPLE CAMPER-VAN WITH ORANGE FLAMES IN THE COUNTY?! Really, I don't condone petty larceny, but can't we commit it with a more forgettable automobile?!" He sighed, going limp in his bucket seat. "It matters not, for the police are already tracing our very movements…"

Eddy grinned and shrugged. "What, the cops? Oh, don't worry! That old guy? He ain't even got a phone! Even if he did, there's no service out here."

"Eddy, what about the land-line?"

Eddy chose to ignore that, and instead turned to Ed. "..Alright, knucklehead, let's see what's in the coat!"

"Sure thing, chief!" The grinning Ed turned his coat inside-out, and the van rocked as the entirety of its contents dropped on the bed. Frankly, there were less bottles than there were cereal boxes, canned goods and motor oil… What little Eddy could find that was good to drink was either Mexican specialty soda, chocolate milk or vegetable oil.

Ed was completely oblivious to this, and smirked proudly. "Are we gonna get tore up, or what?"

Eddy was dismayed, and began to search among the pile. "Starch? Baking soda? RUBBING ALCOHOL?! How are we gonna give this to Kevin?! You lunkhead, you took everything but the beer!"

"B-but, Eddy, what about your bags?"

Eddy backed off, no longer slapping his friend, and dived into the shopping bags, searching fervently.

But, alas. He had procured a bottle of Mexican Coke, two cans of light beer, and twenty gallons worth of Lipton iced tea.

"What th-...Aw, come on!"