The Drinker You Smoke, The Player You Ed

by TrailerFilth

It's the summer after graduation, and the kids are riding high. The day after his parents leave on their vacations, Kevin decides to throw a swank-ass party. However, mom and dad have stolen all his booze! Rather than face the humiliation of throwing a BYOB party, he recruits the Eds to help him. Will they find quality hooch before 6:30 PM? Probably not!

5. Chapter 5

The four lay in a bush, watching the blue unmarked. Ed stuck out, surveying the terrain. You see, Double D, genius that he is, happened to find some copper tubing and two lenses. In about five minutes, he had a working spyglass!

"Yup," Ed confirmed, "They're cops."

Roy tugged his coatsleeve. "Can I have the lenses to my glasses back now? I can't see three feet in front'a me.."

Double D let out a whimper. "It's the end of the line, gentlemen. We haven't a chance…"

Ed gave Sockhead's well-... sock-head a pat."Aw, c'mon, Double D, it's only one car… and nobody's even in it! See?"

Eddy, who had begun reading an article titled, "How To Represent Yourself in Court" on his phone, looked up abruptly. "Then, where are they..?"

"Combing the woods for us, no doubt…" Double D curled up and began to rock himself.

"Y'know, Eddward, if you weren't so scared, I'd've thought you set me up." Roy growled, and snatched the spyglass back, trying to disassemble it. He couldn't see jack without his glasses.

"If anyone set us up," Eddy suggested, "It'd be those dirty Kanker bitches… They got a grudge with us that goes way back."

Roy popped a lense loose, and began to wrestle to get it back in his frame. "Yeah… but, they wouldn't set you to jail. They care too much about you guys."

"Care? They slammed a door on Sockhead's foot, how's that for caring?"

"It looks like a diving fin," Ed agreed, giving Double D's loafer a poke, "They are mean ones, that is for sure-tain!"

Roy snarled as his second lense fell in the mud. "They ain't that mean; I mean, I've lived next to 'em for three years, I should know! You live with a person, you mow their lawn, you… really get a feel for 'em, you know?... A-and, you realize, like… It's all relative! Y'know?"

Parnelli had refused to look them in the eye while making his little speech, and sort of shrunk away into himself. If he felt he'd said too much, then he was probably right, as the Eds were all eyeing him differently; as if he'd said, "Hey, boys! Let's go blow up a courthouse!", or something to that effect.

"The difference between you and us," Eddy hissed, "Is you didn't have 'em breakin' into your house once a week in the summer…"

Roy didn't respond at first, looking away and mumbling something. At last, he'd repaired his glasses and began to wipe them clean with an equally-dirty shirttail. "...Alright, so they are that mean. But, if they wanted to get at you, they'd key your car, or leave flaming dogshit on your front stoop, or… or jump you, or something. They wouldn't call the cops." He brought his specs to his face, only to be met by an even blurrier sight, and groaned.

Ed, who was still watching the blue Plymouth for movement, scratched his stubbly chin. "Then, I don't geddit… Who would call the cops on us?"

Double D croaked through a hitching breath. "Isn't it obvious…? The one person we've been a thorn in the side of for years… Harassing, taking advantage of, looting repeatedly…"

Eddy blinked, taking only a second to process this remark. "...that kid Scoot?"

A muddied hand drug over Edd's face. "No, Eddy, Em-"

A twig snapped nearby, and Sockhead clapped a hand over his mouth with a gasp. Eddy and Roy, who'd been sitting up, hit the dirt, trying to stay low in the shrubbery. Ed, a little too slow to notice, had to be pulled down to join them, and he landed with a whump that shook the ground.

Another rustle came nearby, a little farther away, and none dared to breathe. The air was charged with unspoken tension. Roy gestured discreetly to the Eds to get their attention, and breathed a message.

"They're close..."

Edd hiccupped and clutched his chest, rasping harsh. Ed came close and his lower lip trembled, eyes growing wide.

"What's wrong, Double D?!"

This was met with a loud 'SHHHH' from Eddy and Roy each.

"I.. I think I'm having a heart attack…"

The noise had alerted them, and the rustling grew closer. A grumbling could be heard now, distinctly female.

"Don't be a pussy, sockhead.." Eddy drew close, looking Edd over. To be frank, his buddy didn't look too hot. Profuse sweating, trembling, breathing coming fast and shallow. No, it didn't look like a heart attack- It looked more like a panic attack.

"I think he needs help, Eddy…" Ed murmured, so as not to alert their pursuers. This was appreciated by all.

Double D hacked and choked, eyes bugged out wide. "I… I don't want to go… to jail... n-not… again.."

Feeling uncomfortable, Eddy tried to comfort his friend with a pat on the back. Touching another guy like this was new to him, and in that euphemism lay the problem. Surely, given the circumstances, Roy and Ed wouldn't think of him any less for comforting a friend, but if this got out, it'd have been headline news at school.

But they weren't in school anymore, were they? They were free. Free to do what they pleased with themselves, free from the social group that held them together through school years. Free to leave Peach Creek and do what they wanted with their lives. Rumors be damned. Double D was in trouble, and it wasn't like they could get his counselor on the phone. No bars at all, and to move would mean a ride out of the park in the back of a squad car.

Mustering some courage, Eddy put an arm around Double D, and tried to reassure him.

"Hey… Hey, Double D, don't worry, man!" He propped up a small smile. "Hey, they won't get us..!"

Double D looked up, tears streaking a face filthy from their stay in the bush. "Yes… Yes, they will.."

"Nah, man!... They're here for me and Ed!... You weren't the one who stole the stuff, right?... You stayed in the van!"

"I.. I did, didn't I…?" Nevermind the possible charge as an accomplice. In his current state, Sockhead did not need to hear it- And perhaps he knew it. But, he felt a little better nevertheless.. "And… And what ab-bout… you… two…?"

Eddy tried to put on a brave face. "Don't worry, man, I've been to jail before!... It's like a bad hotel, I could hack it!... Better yet, me an' Lumpy'd just dig ourselves out! Right, Ed..?"

Ed grinned wide and nodded enthusiastically. He was cut short by an approaching shuffle, only about a foot from them. But, Sockhead, gazing up at Eddy with a brave smile, didn't hear.

"N-no… Certainly… not, my… good man.." He whistled this message, through a locked throat- practically through his teeth. "..I-if one of us is t-to be c-caught… then it shall be… all.. Of us… A h-house divided cannot stand.. A-and, after all we've… been through, I'd…. dare say we'd be f-fools...to… split up now…."

"We'll be the jailbirds three," Ed concurred, "Eddy'll be the tough one, who beats other guys up… and you'll be the smart one, who plans our escape to Necron-99, and I'll be the funny one with the song and dance number in the third act!"

All three snickered. What a lark, what a yuk, what a fucking predicament to be stuck in. Cornered in the woods, facing misdemeanors and maybe a year in the can- For Edd, his second brush with the law; for Eddy, his third. God, what they'd do to him. But, what would they do to Roy? That is, if they found his still.

And Roy sensed that too; it was either try to leave and get caught in a shoplifting case, or let them comb the woods, find the burnt house, and discover his still- a contraption that had become his prime hobby after the street racing scene got broken up by the cops last Spring..

"Gah, this is ridiculous," he growled, and produced a small blade. "I'm gonna go take a look."

Eddy broke from the group hug to look him over dubiously. "That's a pocket-knife."

"Yeah, well, it beats what you're carrying!"

"I ain't carryin' a knife."

"Exactly… You just stay put, and I'm gonna try and find a way out…"

There was no noise from outside now; whoever had been following them was right outside, waiting. She had heard them, and was poised to investigate. Her ears could hear their whispers from a mile away, some desperate kids it sounded like. But, when a pale, lanky shape in glasses stuck its face out of the bush, she flattened herself to the ground, glaring back with eyes filled with fear and malice.

"...So," Eddy breathed, "Are they there…?"

"Outta sight," Roy mumbled breathlessly; that wasn't a good enough answer for Double D, who began to wrestle his way out of his friends, moaning defeat.

"WE SURRENDER, WE SURRENDER, GOD IN HEAVEN, WE ARE SORRY!"

Startled, she slashed Roy in the face five times, and he let out a blood-curdling wail that sent the birds overhead into flight. The loud noise had scared the everloving shit out of her, and now a second shape loomed over her. Weird things, otherworldly things were happening here- things she wanted no part of. And so, she turned and fled into the bushes, dashing as fast as she could away from these mad monsters.

The Eds righted themselves and turned to Roy, who was holding his face in his hands and hissing. They had missed the whole thing.

"God… fuckin' Jesus, Mary and Joseph!... Rotten anteater shit! It got me in the face, man!..." Red streaks ran amid the kid's acne, dripping down his goatee. Slash-marks across his face from little razor-sharp claws.

Double D turned to face him, and recoiled with a gasp. "Good Lord, what happened to you?"

He sucked in breath, groaning. "You chicken-shits, it wasn't a cop!..."

Eddy gave him a purplexed glance. "It wasn't?"

"Hell no, would a cop do this?!"

"Maniac Cop would," Ed reasoned.

"Well, it wasn't Maniac Cop! It was a bobcat!"

Double D was slowly catching his breath. "...A bobcat…?"

"Yeah, Vincent, a bobcat! Lynx rufus! And your little pity-party scared the bejesus out of it!... Jeez, man, this really hurts…!"

Eddy breathed a sigh of relief. "Whooh! That God for that; I thought I was gettin' thrown in a cell tonight for sure…"

"Well, you ain't outta the woods yet," Roy sneered.

Eddy took it seriously. ".. Yeah, no kidding."

Double D gestured to the blue unmarked cruiser, still visible through the trees. "These lawmen are probably still out and about.. They could still be looking for us. Why, I-..."

And then a peculiar thought hit him.

"...Roy, are you sure that's an unmarked cruiser?"

"Sure," he grumbled, trying to wipe a streak of blood off the inside of his glasses, "Who else owns a base Plymouth Fury, other than old folks?" However, Ed snatched them away from him, and began to reassemble his contraption. "Hey, man, what gives?"

Carefully, Edd scanned the car, looking for signs of its officiality, and he let out a great sigh. It was as if all the tension in Sockhead's body suddenly ran out of him, and he slumped to the floor. He'd dropped the spyglass first, and under the weight of his torso, flattened the copper exoskeleton of it. With a tinkle of broken glass, Roy's lenses were obliterated.

Eddy lurched forward, and grabbed Double D's coat. "S-sockhead?... Double D, what's up?!"

"Wire wheels," Dee mumbled."

"...What?"

"Police cruisers don't have wire wheels… They're not… on the fleet model... Furies…" He let out a last, pathetic hiccup, and closed his eyes in a dead faint.

The two who were still conscious turned to Roy, as if to confirm. Under their blurry scrutiny, the kid shrank back, tugging at his collar.

"Well, ah," he stammered, "He's right... " He would have hated to admit it, but under the circumstances, he was elated. "I… might'a jumped the gun when I said you were bein' followed… Maybe it's just some grandma, visitin' the park..?"

And Eddy joined his friend on the floor- exhausted, all the energy run out of him. But, thankfully not down his legs.

He awoke to the sound of long-dead rockstars, in a lush palm treeline. Flamingos waded in the sea, with a setting sun dramatically in the distance. It was an island paradise like you'd see on the television- Some Hawaii 5-0 intro stuff; almost mythic, probably never real in the first place.

"...B-...Buddy Holly…?"

Roy was looming over him, a spare pair of glasses adorning his face, and Eddy regained his senses. He stood up straight, and found he was inside the mobile home. These lurid images were a wallpaper that screamed Jimmy Buffet. The carpet was a neon purple shag that his socks sunk into.

"What'd you do t'my shoes…?"

"I didn't do a thing," he insisted, "But Mr. Perfectionist put 'em by the door when he woke up. That was about a half hour ago.."

And, as if on cue, Double D came rushing down a hall, Ed in tow. "Eddy, thank heavens you're alright!.. I'd dare say I have a concussion from that fall I took.." He put a skinny hand to his little buddy's jawline, looking into his eyes. "Are you alright? How do you feel? How many fingers am I-"

Eddy shook him off, grumbling. "I'm fine, I'm fine, sheesh… what time's it, anyways?"

"Ooh! Ooh! I got this one!" Ed produced from his pocket a battered, beaten and abused flip-phone, and swiped his thumb to open it up. It was covered in fruit-stickers, for some reason not worth elaborating upon. "It is currently Six-One-Five-Pem! Am I slick or what?"

Eddy's adrenaline surged. "SIX-FIFTEEN?! We gotta get this show on the road!"

Double D stammered a rebuttal "B-but… all that camaraderie! I thought we agreed we didn't need to impress them! That, all the friends we needed were each other!"

"I never said that."

"But… But, it was implied! My Lord, the… the passion, the… the camaraderie! Does that mean anything to you?"

"No thanks," shouted Ed, presenting his driver's license, "I'm straight!"

Eddy gave him a glare. "Sockhead, when I make a promise, I see it through. You know that!"

"Not necessarily, you usually ask for favors, promise to repay them, and feign ignorance when confronted as to why you haven't!"

"Yeah, well… well, not anymore!"

Edd rubbed his head; he had ice on it, Eddy had just noticed. "But, what about my concussion…?"

"Don't worry about it, Double D! Take some advil and drink it off! This'll be the night of our lives!" He turned to Roy, who flinched under such an intense look from such a little, bulldoggish kinda guy as Eddy. "You! Where's your well?"

"Around by the back of the park," he reported.

"Can you show us?"

He nodded. "Yeah, of course.. Just bring your van around, I don't want people seein' this."

Eddy shook his hand tight. "You got it, stretch! C'mon boys, let's get this show on the road!"

In his haste, he stumbled over a coffee table, barking his shin with a yelp. But, he didn't stop moving, and just wriggled himself through the carpet until he could get up and stand again. He shot for the door, putting his shoes on the wrong feet, and threw the flimsy tin thing open, taking off like a shot with Ed galloping along behind, and Double D, tottering under the weight of his ice, bringing up the rear. More leisurely, Roy strolled out, closing the door behind them, and headed down the dirt in the opposite direction.

The trio exploded out into the open, dashing like mad for the Van. Lee, Marie and May could see them approaching, dressed in their starchy church clothes, and watched with a subdued placidity they hardly revealed.

"Y'think they still got feelin's?" Marie wondered aloud.

"Yeah," Lee grunted, "Least, Eddy's got feelin's f'me. You stick 'ta Double D next time."

Marie cracked a knuckle. "Ain't you ever gonna get over that?"

"Not any time soon."

"Good! Just like I won't forget about how you slept with that moldy-ass teddy bear 'til you were fifteen!"

"That was May's bear," she snarled, "Don't go startin' shit, Marie!"

May sighed, caught up in her own little world. "D'you think Ed's screenplays will make it big…? He wrote this story once, where this guy and this vampire girl meet, and…"

But the boys had nearly forgotten about the Kanker Sisters- because, when they came stampeding up the drive, they were confronted by the blue Plymouth.

Whether or not had been empty before, it wasn't now. Its headlights pinned them to the road, and its engine roared into life. A spotlight affixed to the driver's side- obscured from their view- shone into the depths of their souls, casting them in a white beacon like an alien tractor-beam.

A window rolled down, and some unseen entity hollered at them above the roar of the engine.

"Awright, hold it right thar!"

They screamed some tritone like a train, and ran scurrying back from whence they came, abandoning the van and the girls as the unmarked charged after them, kicking mud all over the Kankers and their trailer.

Lee's blood boiled. "...What's 'dis crap?"

"They're running from us again," sobbed May, "Just like prom!"

"Are you two blind?" Marie howled tempestuously, "Somebody's goin' after them! And I dunno about you two, but I ain't seen a car chase in like three years!" Forgetting civility or the range of motion she lacked, she leapt off the front stoop and went cannonballing after them. "I'm gonna go watch!"

"Marie, don't leave me here!" May took off in chase.

"This ought t'be good." And so did Lee.

Double D's lungs ached from running, his foot hurt from being slammed in a door. His icebag kept slipping off his head, and his shorts kept threatening to slip down. He was coming apart at the seams, and he began to drag behind.. He could hear the whoosh of the Plymouth's big, ducted radiator fan as its massive grille hovered less than a foot behind him.

"I'm a lost cause, fellows!" he wailed at the top of his lungs, "Go on without me! Save yoursel-"

But, Ed had a better idea. The big lug slung his scrawny friend over his back, and broke into an inhuman gallop on all fours, scooping up Eddy, who too was fading fast. As they bore down on Roy, his pupils grew huge and dilated at the sight of his odd chase, and he tried to drop the jug he was holding and run- Though Ed snatched him up too, and grabbed the two huge containers in his teeth. How's that for superhuman?!

Roy's mouth worked silently as he gestured to the car, then to the Eds, then specifically to Eddy, who was riding Ed like a horse while he in turn bounced along in back of him, holding Double D bridal style. "Wh...WHERE THE HELL'S THE VAN?!"

"Change of plan, buddy-boy!" Eddy let loose a wild howl of laughter. "We're takin' your car!"

"But, my plates! The-... What if they catch me carrying moonshine?!"

"You own… the fastest car… in the County," Double D wheezed, "If not… the most haphazardly… constructed…. They shan't catch us… if they had wings!"

"But, it ain't the fastest!" he protested, "It ain't even fastest in town! I get walked by everybody!"

"Then let's hope your driving's good!" Eddy grinned wide, and offered him a hand, which he gladly took. "LUMPY, get us a short-cut!"

Roaring, Ed dashed into a yard and squeezed them between to trailers. The Fury skidded sideways, coming to rest blocking the narrow road. Bickering amongst each other, the two occupants attempted to turn around, but backed the boat of a car through somebody's picket fence, and had to face an angry old hag in a bathrobe as she hurled dishes at their trunk. Meanwhile, Ed leapt onto a trampoline, which shot them right into the rooftops of the park. He dashed like a madman, leaping over the road and giving the Kankers below a wave and a barrel-roll.

Lee had had just about enough. "Hey… Hey, you get back 'ere an' court us like gennlemen! What about our deal? What about chivalry?! Eddy, when I get my hands on you, I swear I'm gonna…"

His friends on his back shrieked like schoolgirls as this mad ride played out, and were thanking their respective gods when he finally skidded to a halt in Roy's yard, uprooting three flamingos and depositing them next to the Chevelle. His job done, Ed opened his jaw wide, letting the two plastic kegs tumble out, and snapped it shut with a ferocious noise.

"...End 'a the line," he mumbled, and righted himself, dropping the three riders off.

Eddy was first to get up.

"QUICK! THE KEYS!"

Roy fumbled in his pocket for them, only to find there were none. "AaAaAaH, shit! They're inside!"

The three hollered back in unison the obvious. "THEN GO GET 'EM!"

"Alright, alright!... It's unlocked, everybody get in!"

Eddy skittered through an open window; Double D gingerly opened the passenger-side door to let Ed in, but Ed picked him up and threw in into the backseat, pitching him the two jugs with two tremendous grunts, before piling in next to Eddy and slamming the door so hard it rocked the car. Elsewhere in the park, they could hear tires kicking up gravel and arguing, and knew the Plymouth was still trying for them.

Roy tumbled down the steps, nearly tripping himself as he tap-danced his way to the turf. The three were shouting incoherently for him to get in, when heavy winds rolled in. The wind was picking up dirt and dust, sending it swirling through the trailers like a Saharan sandstorm. But, through the dust they saw four saucer suns- the eyes of The Man's fury- The man's Plymouth Fury, a gargantuan, pompous car driven by cops and those who saluted cops on the freeway.

Roy slid across the hood and fell on his face, opening up his cuts again with a yelp. Getting to his feet, he tried to follow Eddy's lead, but ran into the pane of glass, failing to shatter it- That's right, the window didn't roll down on that side. The Fury's headlights grew ever-nearer, prowling through the dust. Its searchlight probed the yards of the trailers, like the Martian heat-ray from War of The Worlds. All the while Roy struggled to get in, finding the door was locked. Finally, with Eddy yanking the skull-shaped knob of the doorlock right off, he threw open the door, slid behind the wheel, and keyed the motor.

For a few seconds, all breath was held. The Chevelle cranked and cranked, the starter whining and whining. Then, suddenly, it caught. The exhaust barked, the engine sputtered, and grew into a sound like rolling thunder, lightning crashing as it revved. Roy slammed it into gear, and the big back tires threw gravel all over, the car launching hard with a lunge backwards. They went sliding sideways and took out the community mailboxes before the steering straightened, and they rocketed right down the main gravel promenade, through this apocalyptic storm straight out of Dune. A chicken from somebody's yard flew up and over the hood of the Chevy, and Ed guffawed, seemingly unaware of the danger. They hit a dip in the road and the car left the ground for a split-second, landing hand and throwing the boys down in their seats.

Eddy, who hadn't bucked up- typical- had been sent into the headliner with a grunt. "JESUS CHRIST, CAN YOU DRIVE ANY FUCKIN' FASTER?!"

"We're in a car chase, Scarsella! The idea's to, like, get away from the bad guys!"

"Parnelli," Edd shrieked, "If you'd be so foolish as to hit a telephone pole and kill us all, I will personally see to it that you don't go to Heaven- if there is such a thing!"

"Like you got the golden key t'the Crapper yourself! I know about your little dirty bomb scheme!"

"It was a DIORAMA of a POWER PLANT!"

Ed called out, drowning the two out completely. "They're right behind us!"

Indeed, the Fury hadn't been shaken. The blue sedan, now caked with dust, was bombing up the driveway behind them, bucking and scraping and ploughing through mud. They saw not the men inside, but only the highbeams and glinting grill, growing ever-nearer.

"Why aren't we losin' 'em?!" Eddy wailed, "They're still right on us!"

"We gotta get on the pavement," Roy called over, "The slicks aren't getting any traction!"

The bumper of the Fury made contact with them, and the Chevelle slid sideways, the Eds screaming. Their back bumper clipped a tree, and sent them sliding the other way. Roy was barely able to correct steering before they sideswiped the Park 'n flush sign, sending it tumbling down, the Fury barely making it before the metal signage hit the ground with a dull thud. This didn't deter their pursuers, and blue sedan screamed up behind at Mach 2 and rammed again, harder.

"IT IS MANIAC COP!" Eddy howled, "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!"

All three embraced as the Fury gave them another jolt. They all went airborne as the Chevelle hit another dip, and sailed a clean twelve feet before landing on the street. All the Eds lay sprawled in a heap in the backseat as the car began to pick up speed, beginning to pull away from their automotive assailants. Jeez, that didn't sounds as good as I thought it would.

"H-...Ha!... So long, slick!" Eddy shouted out the rear window. He gave the middle finger, blew raspberries, and did whatever he damn well felt to the cops, because they were on their way out. Then, Roy put the car into a drift, and Ed had to snatch him by his beltloops to keep him from tumbling out the open passenger window.

The Chevelle kinked left, and shot down an alleyway, knocking over every trash can along the way. The cops behind had mashed the pedal to the floor to keep up, and were doing better than eighty miles an hour when they made the turn. The big car's brake drums smoked red hot and the suspension swayed, but they overshot the alley and stopped in the middle of a four-way intersection, amid a chorus of honking horns. The driver nailed the gas and put the car around in a massive burnout. Meanwhile, the yellow Malibu was put through a dizzying maze of back-alleys, suburban streets, main roads and thoroughfares until they hit Figueroa again. The Fury was no longer in sight, and all four breathed a sigh of relief. If all was well, the Fury had gotten lost somewhere in the houses, and was probably cruising around with its searchlight on, looking for them in the countless garages and grassy side-streets.

"Okay," Eddy panted, "Alright… We lost 'em. Now what?"

Roy glanced in the rear-view, thrumming the tiny racing steering wheel he'd insisted on putting on his car. "Ah, we, uh… We park up somewhere and wait this out…"

"Park up? But, what about the party?"

Roy gave him a glance, the car swerving. "Man, we were just in a police chase, and you're still worried about that party? If I get caught with this stuff, then I'm going to jail for-... for-... bootlegging, or something!"

Eddy glowered in his seat, as the car pulled into a convenience store parking lot, and drove around back. Roy shut the motor off, and let his head on the steering-wheel, sniffling a little.

"We're all screwed, man!... Not just you and your buddies… We better start pourin' this shit out, 'cause when we all go home tonight? They'll be talkin' to our parents about how we evaded custody!.."

Double D produced a handkerchief, and Roy snatched it away, blowing into it loud. In some odd way, he was past fretting over the punishment, and now wondered about Parnelli. For whatever reason, he thought of others, even before himself! Why else would he have stuck with Eddy, after all the scams and snowjobs had gotten him were exile from the neighborhood and stern stickynotes from his parents? An eye went to the moonshine, lying on the floor by Ed's feet. A shame for it to go to waste, really- a man's handiwork, his craft. Whiskey was a romantic thing, he supposed- in the vein of all great Robin Hood heroes.

And then an idea struck him.

"Say, fellows! I know where we are!"

Eddy didn't move. "Yeah, no shit, Sockhead. We're behind the Supa Save on Figueroa and Rethink."

"We're only five blocks away from our houses, are we not?" A grin was growing on his pale little face, and Ed mimicked it, wide and goofy.

"You guys, maybe, but they'll catch me for sure if I go home." Roy sobbed loud, and laid on the horn button for a solid three seconds before noticing. "Ah-... s-sorry.. The point is, those guys probably got backup on the way… The moment we try and get outta here, they'll nail our balls to the wall…"

Double D, feeling bolder, but his hand on Roy and Eddy's shoulders. Both flinched, both looked up at him."Oh, nonsense!... Roy, did you not brag incessantly about your skill as a mechanic? Is this car's performance not mythic? For instance, how fast can you run a quarter mile?"

"Like… low fourteens, if I'm honest…"

Sockhead, feeling gutsy, grabbed the key in the ignition and gingerly turned it. Starting with a huff, the Chevelle began to idle, loud and lopsided.

"Well, according to the surveys I'd taken in Senior Year, testing the accuracy of the odometer of my classmates' automobiles, we are approximately…. A quarter-mile from the party. Taking into account the various stopsigns and suburban hazards, could you make this trip in, say, thirty seconds?"

Roy looked away, rubbing his goatee. "..Well, yeah, but.. What if they pick us up on the way? If they find us, we'll still have the shine on us…"

Eddy had a little brain-blast of his own. "Not if the guys at the party drink it!"

He reached for a high-five, and Edd took it, wincing only slightly at the sting to his palm. "Exactly!... Thus, destroying the evidence… assuming they don't find the still, of course."

Roy's head spun. "Now, hold on a minute!... What if they cruise down the block and spot my car in front'a this Kevin guy's house? What if they find me when I get home?!"

"Already covered, buddy!" Ed foghorned, slapping Roy on the back with a hollow thud, "My parents are at my aunt's for the week! You can crash at Ice Station Ed, and put your car in the garage!"

The lanky Parnelli kid rubbed the small of his back, nodding. "And if the cops break up the party..?"

Eddy leered at him. "... Then Kevin gets caught with the moonshine!"

For a beat, silence, and then soft laughter. He was warming up to them."Yeah… Yeah, that might work… But, what about afterwards? What if they called for backup? What if-"

Eddy was feeling enthusiastic, and cut him off. "Oh, we'll burn those bridges when we get to 'em. Take a chance, Roy! For trailer-trash, you really don't take many risks…"

"H-hey, man, I just don't wanna go to jail!" There was a hint of tension in that voice. A little defensive, was he? "But, I'll do it.. Just- Just know, whatever you guys did to bring 'em here, I'll rat you right the hell out if this goes wrong!"

Double D met his gaze levelly. "We'd do just the same to you."

"How about you just get us over there already?" Eddy slipped a twenty his way, and Roy gladly took it.

Ed dashed ahead, leaning around the corner. Easing back, he motioned for the others, and the Chevelle rolled out into the sun. Its cream yellow point was caked with dirt up to the windows, but the paint still shined underneath the mud and dust. Lumpy piled back in, and they rolled to the curb, stopping. Roy hesitated, his grip tightening on the wheel.

It was all clear. Time to go.

He eased out into traffic, turning right.

Eddy scoffed. "Nice drivin', gentle touch, how about you-"

They heard the clunk as his wingtip hit the floor. The engine faltered for a split-second and the tires turned to smoke. The car rocked back on the rear axle, throwing them all back, and the nose raised skyward. The power of the start damn near lifted the front wheels off the ground, that's what they all swore at the party later. Regardless, the revs climbed, the engine's roar turning into a scream, and the houses and sideway turned to a blur. Double D held tight as the Chevy tore through an intersection, Roy letting off only a little.

"W-GOOD LORD MAN, OBEY THE SPEED LIMIT!" The irony of this, after all they'd been through, was lost on the boys.

Roy's teeth were showing in a madman's grin, his knuckles blue on the wheel. "TIME ME, VINCENT!"

"Wh-WHAT?" The sound of the exhaust was deafening, and Edd put his hands to his ears. Eddy had finally fastened his seatbelt and put a hand over his face as they nearly clipped a Honda in the second intersection. Ed couldn't look away, he couldn't process it all, it was just a blur.

Meanwhile, Roy rambled on and on to himself; counting, counting what?

"One.. two… three..."

Through another stop sign; this intersection was empty.

"Four, five.."

Everything a blur, light speed, critical mass, Mach 7 on a journey to the son, a viking funeral for a small block, they hit another intersection, they couldn't see a thing.

"Six…..seven…"

It was seven.

Most of Kevin's guests were there. He'd invited anyone and everyone he could find. Old friends, his fathers' work buddies' kids, military brats, the rich kids from the private development cross town- Even some high schoolers from Lemon Brook had come, mingling freely with their Peach Creek rivals free of malice. It was as if once one had graduated, the old school grudges started to slip away. After all, it seemed so silly now, and he couldn't help but give the Lumpers credit for some of those dynamite plays that'd kicked the Cobblers' asses.

But, Kevin's calm demeanor belied his impatience. The "Refreshments" he'd managed were a metric shit-ton of chips and some Mexican soda somebody had left on the curb. Hot-dogs and burgers sizzled, a little weed was blazed in the backyard, but no alcohol at all. He'd considered texting Eddy, but decided against it.

They wanna play that shit? Fine. I ain't gonna chase after them.

He'd been out back, gabbing with a Lumpers linebacker, when Nazz picked her way through the crowd- She was calm, but there was an air of urgency in her walk.

"..Hey… Hey, Kev?"

Kevin opened his arms, hoping she'd snuggle up and show the Lumper how close they were. "Hey, babe! What's up?"

She kept glancing toward the gate, which, now that he noticed, was in the process of being pounded in by some brute force. "We got a problem…"

"God dammit, what now?" He practically threw his Coke all over the Lumper, and stormed his way over, throwing it open. From the street, out spilled three Kankers, looking like they'd gone to Sunday mass at the bottom of a sinkhole.

"W...What th'hell're you three doin' here?!"

Marie grabbed his arm and pulled herself up; Kevin recoiled at her touch, it was oily and dirty, caked with a thousand oil-changes. "Don't be stupid," she chirped, "The Eds invited us!"

"The Eds?" His brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms. "They ain't here."

"That's bullshit, shovel-head." Lee stepped forward, rolling up the sleeve of her ruined blouse. "They took off with that Parnelli freak, on their way 'ta your party. Either they wrecked out on the way, or they're here." No mention of the car chase, he didn't need to hear about that.

Shovel-chin couldn't think too fast, or he'd get a headache. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "The kid with the Malibu?"

"D'same."

"What's he got t'do with this? They were s'pposed t'get beer, and they're out draggin' with some trailer-trash prick?"

May waved a clenched fist, practically shrieking. "You watch'er mouth, snapback, we're trailer-trash!"

"An' proud of it," agreed Marie.

Lee took a step forward. "You wanna make somethin' of it?"

This scene had begun to draw a crowd, a steady murmur began to rise as they surrounded the Kankers. Kevin was backed against a wall of eyes. A physical barrier, a social barrier. He couldn't run away, he couldn't hit 'em. Phones were out, they were recording. What would happen?

But, above the growing chant of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" They heard the sound of a big motor- a V8, it sounded like- groaning as it eased off the gas, fast-approaching and loud. All eyes turned to the Cul-de-sac as a yellow '72 Chevy covered Holley stickers came careening to a halt, brakes whining, in the middle of the street. The passenger door flung open, and out scrambled Ed, Edd and Eddy, scampering over to the house as the car rolled up the street to Ed's house and into the driveway without even stopping. They were filthy, beaten, covered in mud and twigs and leaves. Eddy looked like he had a black eye forming, Ed's coat was torn in three places. Double D had an ice-bag bigger than his head strapped to his skull. It seemed they'd been through a bit to get the goods.

The crowd gazed in bewildered awe as Ed produced from his coat two five-gallon jugs of a clear liquid, and presented them to Kevin.

"The refreshments have arrived!" he proclaimed.

Some pointdexter from Seawall Junior High idled up, looking Ed over. "Now, whadd'ya think you're try'na do, mister?... That ain't beer!... Hey, that looks like, creekwater! Am I right, fellas?"

A few murmured in agreement, and Kevin uttered a low grumble.

The pointdexter began to circle the trio, gesturing with his arms.

"I didn't lie to my parents, steal eighty bucks, take the bus out here and rent an AirBnB to drink a bunch of grody malarkey like that!.. I came here t'piss myself an' pass out in somebody's pool!"

Eddy met the irate customer with his usual suave swagger- something he mainly used on girls, but could conjure up to close a deal. He gave the guy a gentle sock to the shoulder, laughed and put his arm around him, leading him to the jug. "Kid, kid, please. This ain't beer."

"No, shit," agreed Lee, "Ain't you idiots ever seen a batch of moonshine before?"

Silence greeted this.

"Moonshine?" Nazz pondered aloud, "Like.. like, whiskey?"

"The very same!" Double D nodded to confirm this, stepping between Eddy and the nerd. "My good man, this is some of the best Peach Creek has to offer! Sure to become the new focal point of every gathering imaginable! A more delightful drink has yet to be invented, as none surpass it in its flavor… and potency!"

A few of the crowd were smiling now, an excited buzz of talk in the air; they were winning them.

Ed held out a jug, and Eddy took it; the shit was heavy, and he strained to hold it, before Ed simply took it back again, unphased. "My man, this is some of the best hooch you'll ever try.. So what if it looks a little rough? Taste it!"

The Pointdexter, in over his head, gingerly craned his neck over the bottle, opened the gigantic wine cork that'd been keeping it shut, and sniffed. The smell of alcohol made him reel, and he staggered back, face flushing red. "N-n-no thanks, I'm good… I'm good…" And he scampered back into the awestruck crowd.

Eddy chuckled. "A lightweight, folks, that's what our buddy there is.. Would any of you tougher guys like a taste?"

He'd expected Rolf to appear; Rolf's liver was fortified like Montecassino. Drinking tainted liquor wasn't just a bragging right for him, it was a hobby. So, when Jimmy stepped forward in a plain-looking polo shirt and with an apprehensive Sarah at his side, Eddy was impressed.

"I'll try it!"

The crowd rippled in shock, a gasp going out among some. Jimmy looked to Kevin for reassurance, and, surprisingly, he gave a thumbs-up.

"Go for it, Fluffy!"

Ed tipped the jug, and Jimmy took a little sip, swallowing with a gulp. He twitched slightly, and fell into Sarah's arms with a swoon. All piled around, desperate to see what was next, as Ed's little sis shook him silly, trying to get any response out of the guy. Roy, who was making his way over after parking his car, couldn't see into the knot of people, and wondered what had happened. Some eyes were on the Eds, narrowing. Not all the kids here knew Jimmy and his weak stomach. What did they think?

At last, he raised his head weakly, a twitching smile on his lips.

"J-Jimmy?" Sarah stammered, "Are you alright….?"

A long pause.

A pause for eternity.

And, then, a giggle!

"It's wonderful, Sarah!"

The crowd howled, and the partygoers clammorred for a sip of the brew. Ed had to hold the jugs over his head, as the three picked their way into the backyard.

"People, people," called Kevin, practically leading this procession through the throngs of partygoers, "There's enough for everybody!"

Drink flowed, music cranked, spirits grew higher and higher on that afternoon. Old friends recollected, shared memories of summers past, and talked of days yet to come. The Eds had earned their favor, but forgotten it in the festivities. The Kankers mingled among a wider variety of men then they'd seen in their life. Roy Parnelli stood to the side talking cars with a few out-of-towners, and was suggested a new junkyard that specialized in old General Motors rides. All was right in the world. Nobody worried what would become of the van, or what would happen if the police came- And they never did. This was golden youth, fleeting and mythical. This was the shindig they'd remember forever. For some, this was the peak, the pinnacle. For others more fortunate, it was the beginning of greater things.

The party went on for hours, into the night. Some left, some stayed, but all had been touched, all had been moved.

All had partaken in the Eds' magic elixir.

EPILOGUE.

Ed awoke safe in his bed, tucked in by his little sister. He had drank damn near two gallons of the stuff and never passed out, only going home when he got tired. He rolled over to find that May, still sleeping, lay wrapped in his arms, and he recalled dancing with her like they had at prom night. His initial desire was to disappear through his window and never be seen again, but he found a gentle beauty in her lying there, and instead sat still, watching and saying nothing.

Edd came to consciousness in a chilly beach-towel in Kevin's yard with a throbbing headache. He'd slept next to Nazz, and inched away silently as not to wake her. He had no idea what had gone on between them, but his clothes were no less filthy or marred then they had been at the start of the evening, so he figured he'd gotten out alright. Even so, he planned to visit the Emergency Room that afternoon, hoping to confirm he hadn't caught the syph, or worse. This was his first time in the sheets with anyone, and he sincerely hoped he hadn't caught something. Germs were a nasty thing.

Eddy found himself face down on a sidewalk with a lampshade on his head. He checked his watch, it was seven in the morning. A dew shone on the grass, and the sun cast long shadows over the roofs of suburbia. A chrome thing glinted in the bottom-right corner of his vision. He felt horrible, nauseous, a great pressure on his temples, barely enough strength to get up. Slowly but surely, he brought himself to his feet- unsteady, after a night of drinking he barely remembered. He blinked, and after a moment, realized that the shiny thing was the sun, glinting off the hood of that same blue Plymouth Fury that had chased them. It sat on the curb maybe two feet away from him, parked and deserted, and for a moment he pondered what it was doing there, still too tired to understand.

A force grabbed him from behind and wheeled him around. A tanned, middle-aged man in a t-shirt and old Wranglers with exceptionally rough hands gripped him by the shoulders, and shook him three times. Eddy fought to keep the puke from coming up, and felt it gag in his throat. His lethargic blood started to race.

"H-hey, what's-"

"Are you Eddy Scarsella?!" the man barked.

"I... "

"Are you Eddy Scarsella?!"

Eddy tried to look away, his heart thudding. Truth be told, this guy's voice was like broken glass on his frontal lobe. "Yeah, I-..."

"You gonna pay 'fer what'chou did 'ta us!" The man kneed him, and he actually did puke- all over the man's dirty Wranglers, too. "Aw, shit, lookit what'chou did!"

"Serves you right," he mumbled, "Sneakin' up on a guy like me?.. Dirty move, cop, dirty move!"

The man narrowed his eyes, refraining from hitting again so as not to make a bigger mess. "What th'hell're you talkin' about, boy?"

"You wanna… drag us t'jail, huh?" Eddy was feeling stronger now, and stuck out his fists. He was ready to be cuffed. "Well, read me my rights!... Tell me what I'm facin'!"

"I ain't no cop, boy," the man clarified, giving him another sock that sent him sprawling. Luckily, he fell in the grass, and his head didn't hit the concrete. "You giddup, an' you talk t'me like a man!"

Eddy tried his best to comply, but all he could get to were his knees.

"What the hell're you supposed t'be…?" He mustered a laugh, but it sounded more like a wheezing exhale, and he threw up again. The redneck took a step back, and all he sprayed on was the concrete.

A second shape appeared now, blurry at first but growing clearer. Short, round, hobbling. Wearing a flannel shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. Jeans so faded they could be white.

Emmet Zeats hit Eddy with a cane.

"Y-yeah, that's 'im, Burt... That's th'punk…"

The redneck crossed his arms, muttering in disgust. "He puked all over me, grampaw…"

Emmet found this funny, and gave a chuckle. "D'oh, suggit up. Ye'r washable." He squinted through his glasses- thick, thicker than Roy's tenfold- at the miserable pile of drunken merriment kneeling before him. "Y-you're… You're Eddy Scarsella, ain't'chou…?"

Eddy mustered a nod. "Uh-huh."

"Ye, I figured… Y'think you're smart, Eddy…? Runnin' from us all night…?"

It was all becoming very clear now. The Fury wasn't a cop car, it was an ex-cop car. Something Sockhead had said registered with him now. The one person we've been a thorn in the side of for years… Harassing, taking advantage of, looting repeatedly… Emmet and Burt Zeats had been their pursuers.

"N-no, sir…"

The bald curmudgeon hissed. "Yeah, I bet'chou thought you were!... Yer buddy losin' us in them tract houses, that was smart… But, we knew you'd come'ome ee-ventually… I still got yer address fr'm when y'r no-good brother was on payroll wimme… Lazy bastard tried t'steal everything t'weren't nailed down… "

Eddy felt the need to reason with him, he had him by the short and friskies for sure. In this state, the younger one could kill him, just stomp his guts out in the middle of the street- Or, worse, they'd call the cops, and lock the three of them up for shoplifting, in addition to various ATF charges they'd place on Roy for his homemade brew.

"L-look, Mr. Zeats? There was this… big party, and-"

"And y'needed beer?" Burt scoffed, pushing him back. Eddy fell on his back in the grass, both of them leering down at him.

"I ain't stupid," said Emmet, leaning heavily on his walking stick, "That's what all'a ya come rob me f'r. Beer, it's always beer! Y'all practically run on th'stuff! Didn't count'n y'r idiot buddy swipin' th'bakin' goods instead, eh?"

Eddy whimpered, covering his face. He tensed, waiting for an impact. "What're y'gonna do to me…?" And he cried, cried like a little girl in front of the older fellas. Burt looked away, so as not to witness this sappy excuse for a man.

"First've all, git up…" Emmet ordered.

Eddy obeyed, raising on woozy sea legs.

"Now, what'chou pulled'ere is serious stuff… I got a family member in th'hospital. Bubba needs stitches- a big chunk'a gravel got'im in'na forehead. I wonder how that happened?"

Eddy shuffled his feet.

"So, here's what'cher gonna do… I done wrote me a list'a th'damages 'fer the in-surance comp'ny, an' they'll cover it. But, you an' yer buddies are gonna cover Bubba's hospiddle stay, 'cause we ain't got good medical."

Eddy gave them a hard glare. "And if I don't?"

"And if you don't," replied Burt with a snarl, "We report all this t'th'Sheriff's Office. I bet you'd love t'hear from them, huh Scarsella?"

He'd heard awful things about those guys from his bro. They were the worst law enforcement to run into. They had dogs, big dogs, that they'd sic on you if you were too freaky. They'd beat you up, steal your stash and never report it. They'd been subject to six corruption probes by the state, and none of them found a thing.

"I.. I ain't got the money, though…"

"Then you'll work 'fer th'money," Emmet suggested, "You come in ev'ry month with a fixed amount 'til we all squar'd away. Let's say, five hunnert…?"

"F-five hundred?!"

Burt loomed, producing brass knuckles. "Or, maybe you'd like to see the inside'a Mainline Pen?"

Eddy was more afraid than he'd admit, but he'd be defiant to the end. He'd spit in their faces, pick a fight with him, struggle against the deputies as they dragged him away. But his slow, weary mind though not of himself. He thought of his friends.

What would become of Double D, already subject to so much controversy? What would become of Ed, so simple he'd hardly understood where he was? Why would they need to suffer for his mistake?"

"Alright," he conceded, "Alright, I give… I'll get you your money…"

"Good," grunted Burt, turning away and strolling to the car, "Y'damn well better."

"You jus' keep'n touch," Emmet added, "An' don't go back on our deal, or you'll be in d'jailhouse then!.. Oh, an' Eddy…?"

"What?"

"Say hi t'Terry 'fer me.."

The big doors slammed shut, the motor turned over, and the Plymouth looped around, heading away. Eddy began a stagger home, trying to regain a shred of dignity after being beaten by rednecks in the street while only wearing his skivvies, when a hulking out-of-towner in a purple jersey approached him.

"H-hey, man, are you Eddy Scarsella?"
"Yeah…."

"I'm Wynn Dixon, Junior class president at Lemon Brook High?" He offered a jovial smile, but it faltered. Even he could see the shape this guy was in. "We played football t'gether in middle school… remember?"

The Lumpers. God, Eddy remembered that. The Lumpers made The Zeats family and the Sheriff's Department look like a game of minigolf. "Y-yeah," he muttered, I remember.."

Dixon pumped Eddy's hand, which jiggled limply. "Well, nice to see you again, man! I heard you and your buddies brought the moonshine?"

"Yeah, that was us…"

"Well, I've got this party next weekend, and I was wondering if you could get us some?"

"I dunno, man, I… got a… lotta homework…." Nevermind that school was out; even Eddy didn't understand at that point.

"Really…?" An obviously disheartened Dixon began to reach for his wallet, producing a fifty. I can pay ya, if y'like!"

Money, greenbacks, cheddar, cash! It rejuvenated Eddie Scarsella, electrified him! Well, at least it stimulated his putrid brain, pickled from all that white lightning, into semi-coherent thought!

"S-sure," he agreed, taking the fifty, "But, it's seventy a jug, an' you don't… discuss this on my home phone… Y-you call me, and.. We'll talk in person, capiche?"

Wynn thought it over, and nodded, satisfied. "Yeah, alright… Hey, you take care of yourself, okay, man?"

"Yeah, yeah…"

Wynn gave a cackle of glee. "Alright!... Man, I'm tellin' all my friends about you!"

And so, the baller stumbled off to find his car, while Eddy combed the bushes for his shirt and pants. This was all piecing together. A problem, a solution. But, it was dangerous. What if real police came after them? What if Roy didn't agree? What if there was a hitch? What if the money dried up, and he was forced to pick peaches for another summer?

He found his phone, lying in a vase on Kevin's front porch. It was half buried in the dirt and had ten percent battery left. Grasping, he held it in his hand, looking at the contacts. What great new paths had opened up for him and his friends!

And he began to type.

MEET ME MY HOUSE 2 HRS.

BRING PARNELLI.

BIG NEWS.

THE END!

Author's note:

I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it for you. This is the first fanfic I have completed in around six years now, and went through a seven-month hiatus. I picked it up on Christmas Eve 2018 and decided to write again, as this story seemed too cool to leave unfinished. In the past couple of days, I've written a few dozen pages, a monumental undertaking for me. I chalk it all down to self-discipline, as it was all about getting off my duff and actually starting. To begin was the tough part; to keep writing was easier and easier. I'm glad that you've all been so receptive to this fic, and I feel like my hard work is really paying off.

This fic is dedicated to F.N., for all his help in me becoming a better storyteller. Without you, I couldn't be as passionate about my craft as I am today. Thanks, man. Hope to see you soon!