There was a few small groups of zombies wandering Crystal Cove. Shaggy didn't care, he was on a mission. When he came up to be beach he kicked his shoes off and rolled his pants up to his knees. Feeling the sand between his toes he cracked a small smile before he made his way towards a rockier part of the beach.
As he walked he listened to the waves crashing on the shore and breathed in the salty air. Overhead he heard a seagull. What a rare sound nowadays. He walked up on to the line where sea met land and felt the sand become slick and sticky underfoot. Then he waited.
He didn't have to wait long. He saw a wave break a few feet away and braced himself. The cold foamy water rushing past his knees made Shaggy jolt. And as the water pulled away it revealed what he had come to find: a collection of stones washed up on the beach.
Shaggy new that he'd have to work quickly, before another wave came and replaced these stones with others. He looked around, scanning carefully until something caught his eye.
He scrambled towards it and snatched it up just as the tide had started to pull it back to sea. He felt the sand underneath him pull away as he sunk slightly into the muddy shore. He wavered a bit, then regained his balance. His feet firmly planted, he looked down at the stone.
It had the appearance of several pebbles cemented together. (There was a name for that... igneous? ...no that wasn't it.) the stone was weighty in his hand, and among the grey a few flecks of pale blue were also present.
This would be Fred's gravestone.
Shaggy pocketed the stone and waited for the next wave. It came quickly, and left a perfect pink rock at Shaggy's feet.
"Like, Daphne woulda loved you." He told the indifferent stone, slipping it into his pocket.
That left only Velma. Shaggy combed through a knot in his hair with his fingers. What would Velma want for a gravestone?
Shaggy couldn't imagine Velma would have cared much about her grave. 'What do I care?' He could almost hear her voice in his head. 'I'm dead aren't I? Just throw my body into a ditch.'
Shaggy grimaced. He didn't have Velma's body to throw into a ditch. Even if he did, he wanted to do more for her. He wanted to honor her somehow, even if it was more for his benefit than hers.
Shaggy felt something odd come over him. A powerful mix of guilt of nostalgia. God, he missed Velma. He sunk down to sit in the muddy sand and hugged his knees to his chest, staring at the horizon with a melancholic sigh.
He didn't blame Velma for leaving him alone. She hadn't had a say in it. But it still stung like rubbing alcohol in a cut. When Daphne Left Crystal Cove, Velma and Shaggy had a few long months of shared solitude. They leaned on each other— needed each other— to make sense of the world as it fell apart around them. If it hadn't been for her, he would have fallen apart with it.
He'd never get to thank her for what she'd done for him.
Shaggy rolled back and stared up at the blue sky above.
As the tide around him pulled away from the land, Shaggy felt himself being pulled along with it. He let it happen, floating on his back for a good while until there was a few feet of water between him and the sea floor.
He floated there, rocking gently, he could almost fall asleep.
He wasn't sure, but he thought he felt one of the stones slip out of his pocket. He felt the front of his pants and sure enough Daphne's had slipped away.
Shaggy hastily flipped over onto his stomach and dove down beneath the waves. The water was murky with sand and stung his eyes, leaving him groping around blindly for the pale pink stone.
He knew deep down that it was inconsequential—whether he found it or not— but he also knew he wasn't going to find anything else quite that perfect for Daphne. His hand landed on something roughly the right shape and size. The tension in his face softened with relief as the pulled his closed first above the water. He looked down at the contents of his hand and saw... just a simple grey rock.
Shaggy sighed. The pink stone must have been swept up by the tides already. He swung his arm back, preparing to toss the grey rock back into the sea, but before he could something about it caught his eye.
There was a hole straight through the rock. Not one that was drilled or chipped in. The hole had been eroded through the rock over— Shaggy was guessing— centuries.
"Huh" shaggy said as he turned it in his hand, "like what are the odds of that?"
Hearing his words, he froze. What were the odds? Velma would know. She always knew that kind of thing. With a small smile to himself he slipped that rock into the same pocket as Fred's. (He didn't quite trust he other one anymore.) and waded back to land.
As Shaggy stood up he wrung water out of his shirt. He shaded his eyes from the sun and began to walk back towards the entrance of he beach where he'd left his shoes.
He was still bummed about losing that pink stone. He knew wouldn't find something quite like that again. Maybe he'd stop by the gift shop in The Broken Spine. There was a small crate for rose quartz for sale there. (Three dollars a piece.) Somehow, it wasn't quite the same to Shaggy, but it would have to do.
As he kept walking along the beach, he foot suddenly fell on something hard and sharp.
"Zoinks!" He cried, hopping precariously on one foot, "what was that?"
He turned around to see what he has just stepped on. And laughed when he saw that damned pink rock.
"You're like, doing this to mess with you aren't you?"
The rock did nothing. Of course it didn't. It was a rock.
With three stones in his pocket now, Shaggy slipped on his shoes and walked back home with an odd relief in his chest.
It was time to plan a funeral.