ELEVEN
"Can we stop for dinner soon?" Zee asked, "I'm kind of hungry now."
"Who else wants to eat?" Elwood asked the rest of his entourage. All their hands went up. "Okay, we'll stop at the next place," he said. He turned to Jake. "You need anything to eat?"
"I no longer need any physical food," Jake said. He looked a bit disappointed. "That's the worst part of being dead," he explained, "Never being able to eat. I miss the fried chickens and pepper steaks."
"How about I order some in your honor then, Jake?" Rocky asked with a smile.
"If you'd like to," Jake shrugged.
Elwood turned on the radio. "You up for dinner?" he asked the band.
"Nope," Murphy told him, "You stop and eat; we'll go to the safe house."
"As you wish," Elwood disconnected. He noticed a glowing sign to his right denoting a restaurant. "Here we are," he said, turning in. Then he noticed the name on the sign: BOB'S COUNTRY KITCHEN. He abruptly stopped short. "Why'd this have to be the first place?" he asked out loud.
"So what's the difference?" Zee asked, unfamiliar with the Brothers' past run-ins with Bob.
"You wouldn't know," Elwood said quickly.
"I'm starving!" Katrina spoke up. Elwood shrugged. "Well, we lucked out last time, I guess we'll be OK again."
"Just so as long as we don't have to do any more puffball diseases," Mack told him, "That one kind of made me feel a little low."
"You won't have to," Jake said, "If worst comes to worst, I'll just generate a synergy that'll make them see us as something else."
"You stay here, Armstrong," Elwood told the dog as he got out, "We'll get you some bones after we're done. The dog licked his face, apparently having subsided on even less than bones under Suntzman's thumb.
The Country Kitchen was fairly crowded for the early evening. "How many?" the waitress asked them.
"Nine, smo—non-smoking," Elwood said, noticing the kids closely.
"This way," the waitress herded them to the nearest large table. "We'll be with you in a minute," she told them.
"I know what I want," Elwood said, tossing his menu aside.
"Let me guess, dry white toast," Keith said with a smile.
"How'd you know that?" Elwood was amazed.
"Oh. I've had enough contacts to know your eating habits," Keith said.
There was a loud fanfare from the newly constructed stage section of the Country Kitchen, and Bob himself walked out on the stage. "Evening folks," he announced over the microphone, "I'm Bob and I hope you're enjoying your meals. Right now, for your entertainment, we'd like to present for your listening pleasure, the best country and western band out there, my old friend, direct from Nashville, put your hands together for the Good Old Boys!"
Elwood dove instinctively under the table as his old nemeses strode out on stage. Lead singer Tucker McElroy took the mike. "Thanks Bob," he told his pal, "Like he said, we're the Good Old Boys, and we've got a great show for you tonight, and we'll start off with the recording that just landed us seven Country Music Awards, the most for one song."
"Sound a little high and mighty, don't they?" Jake asked out loud, "Well I can fix that." He waved his finger, and Tucker, instead of singing his hit song, started crooning "I Will Survive"—in Gloria Gaynor's voice. The other Good Old Boys stopped playing and stared at their leader in total shock. Tucker, oblivious to this, started high kicking all over the stage, belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs. Boos started coming out the audience, who didn't like disco, and the beer bottles started flying. Bob ran over to his friend and started shaking him. "Tucker, get a hold of yourself!" he could be heard saying.
There was a loud ruckus from outside the restaurant. The doors slammed open as about a dozen unshaven and uncouth-looking bikers wearing black leather jackets inscribed BLACK DIAMOND RIDERS plowed their way in. "Hey babe, give us all beer, as much as you got," the huge leader of the group leered at the first waitress they came across. "Move over!" he ordered a nice all-American looking family, who promptly jumped up and gave them the whole table. "Come on boys, let's clear this place out," he told his associates as they plopped down next to him.
"Boy, they're not too pleasing, "Zee commented.
"No kidding," Rocky was on his feet, burning with a tremendous rage that Elwood had never seen before. "Their my old gang," his cellmate said darkly, "The guys who set me up and ruined my life." He started to get up. Cabel grabbed his arm. "Violence is not warranted in this case," he tried to warn his fellow Brother.
"This is further than you think, Cabel," Rocky pushed him aside. He tapped the head biker on the shoulder. "Mad Dog McMurdo, remember me?" he asked him roughly.
The head biker turned to face him. "Can't say I remember," he said.
"Maybe this will jog your memory!" Rocky delivered a hard right hook to his face. The other bikers jumped up, fists balled. "Rocky Topton," Mad Dog remembered now, "Funny to see you out again. How's life in Joliet treating you?"
"You set me up you slug!" Rocky took another swing. Cabel again interceded. "Gentlemen, what we need here is brotherly love and peace," he said melodiously.
"Shut up, retard!" Mad Dog slugged him in the face. He turned to Rocky and said, "If you think you scare me, you're dead wrong."
"You should be scared, because the cops are on their way and..." Rocky started to bellow.
"Okay Rock, I think you need to save room for the dessert," Elwood interrupted, dragging Rocky back to his table.
"What's going on over here!?" Bob demanded, storming over, "Fighting ain't allowed in the Country Kitchen!"
"I told them that," Cabel said, getting to his feet.
"Wait a minute," Bob eyed Elwood closely, "I've seen you before."
"Uh, I get that a lot," Elwood said quickly.
"IT'S THEM BLUES BROTHERS!" came Tucker's voice from the stage. The singer was pointing straight at his enemies, looking possessed. "Aha!" Bob shouted, pointing an accusatory finger in Elwood's face, "I knew I knew you! You still owe me that three hundred dollars for beer twenty years ago!"
"Well now's not the time, Bob, we're kinda broke right now," Elwood said quickly. He started taking steps backwards.
"Oh no you don't, I want it now!" Bob stepped toward him.
"Check please," Elwood yelled to the waitress. He waved for the others to follow him out. On the way out, he grabbed a fried chicken off an old man's plate. "It's for my dog," he explained hastily.
"Come back here you petty thieves!" Bob yelled running after them. The Brothers piled into the Bluesmobile. Elwood tossed the chicken into the back seat to Armstrong. "Here's your meal," he told his pet.
"Great, now I don't even get to eat!' Zee growled as Bob yanked hard on the locked door.
"We'll find another place," Elwood started the old police car and pulled out onto the road again.
The Good Old Boys emerged from the restaurant. "Need our help, Bob?" Tucker asked his friend.
"Sure, Tucker, get your rifles and ax handles ready," Bob said, "We're going to hunt them down." As he and the country singers ran back into the country kitchen, the Black Diamond Riders came out and jumped on their bikes. "If Rocky talks, we could be in trouble," Mad Dog told his associates, "So let's wipe 'em out so he don't talk. After 'em, boys!"
"YEAH!!" his fellow bikers roared. They revved up their bikes and zoomed off after the Bluesmobile.
"So you've got a grudge with those guys?" Mack asked Rocky as the Bluesmobile tore down the highway at almost eighty miles an hour.
"Those pigs sent me up the river!" Rocky growled, still looking infuriated, "It was fine the first couple of years riding with them, but once they started raping and pillaging through towns like there was no tomorrow, I told them I'd had enough, and they framed me for murder! I swore I'd get back at them, and if goodie two shoes back here hadn't stopped me...!"
"Violence wasn't warranted in this case," Cabel reiterated.
"Yeah, well tell me when...!" Rocky was cut off as gunfire ripped into the back of the Bluesmobile. The Black Diamond Riders were firing off sawed-off shotguns and were gaining ground. More shotgun blasts were coming from the distance, where the Good Old Boys' Winnebago was coming on strong. "Any escape ideas, Elwood?" Mack asked him.
"I'm thinkin'," Elwood made a hard left turn, "Right now I need some space between me and them."
But space wasn't forthcoming, as some of the bikers were now drawing alongside the old police car and slashing at it with sabers and their rifle butts. One of them smashed open the left passenger side window. Katrina and Keith slouched down as the saber came slicing in.
"WATCH THE TRAIN!!" Zee shouted, pointing at the road ahead of them. A train was crossing it not more than a hundred feet ahead. At the last second Elwood swerved hard to the right and drove parallel to the train, the bikers and Good Old Boys still hot on their trail.
"Well Elwood, have you done your thinking?" Jake's natural brother pressed him. Elwood noticed several baggage ramps alongside of the train. "Yep, and I got an idea now," he said, "It's somethin' I saw Buick Chase do in a movie once."
"I think you mean Chevy Chase, Elwood,": Keith corrected him.
"Whatever," Elwood took a good look at the train. He saw an open boxcar coming from about a quarter mile away.. He had to time it exactly right. Swerving toward the woods to his right, he swung back around, ducking to avoid the shotgun blasts coming through his windshield, and accelerated toward the nearest ramp. The Bluesmobile roared up it and rocketed through the open boxcar just in time, landing safely on the other side of the tracks. "YES!" Keith pumped his fists in excitement, "I've waited my whole life to do something like that!"
"Have you?" Zee asked weakly. There was now a wet spot in his pants.
On the old side of the tracks, Mad Dog waved for his men to follow him. "Come on boys!" he shouted in encouragement, "If those nuts can do that, so can we!" The Black Diamond Riders roared toward the next ramp down the tracks, tried to make the same jump through the boxcar, and failed miserably, slamming hard into the side of the car. "Just like in the movies!" one of the bikers grumbled as the train carried them down the tracks.
"No matter," Mad Dog barked, "We'll keep following them. We can't let Rocky spill everything to the cops, or we'll all get chaired!"
Behind them, the Winnebago skidded to a halt. "I ain't trying that," Tucker said, pointing to the bikes sticking out of the car.
"Good," Bob agreed, "I don't want another mishap like last time with you and that stupid gas pedal."
"That wasn't my fault for the last time, Bob!" Tucker shouted.
"All right, it wasn't your fault," Bob said quickly. He looked out at the train, which seemed a mile long. "Go back to the crossing," he told his buddy, "Once this thing goes by, we'll see if we can find where they're going."
"Can we stop for dinner soon?" Zee asked, "I'm kind of hungry now."
"Who else wants to eat?" Elwood asked the rest of his entourage. All their hands went up. "Okay, we'll stop at the next place," he said. He turned to Jake. "You need anything to eat?"
"I no longer need any physical food," Jake said. He looked a bit disappointed. "That's the worst part of being dead," he explained, "Never being able to eat. I miss the fried chickens and pepper steaks."
"How about I order some in your honor then, Jake?" Rocky asked with a smile.
"If you'd like to," Jake shrugged.
Elwood turned on the radio. "You up for dinner?" he asked the band.
"Nope," Murphy told him, "You stop and eat; we'll go to the safe house."
"As you wish," Elwood disconnected. He noticed a glowing sign to his right denoting a restaurant. "Here we are," he said, turning in. Then he noticed the name on the sign: BOB'S COUNTRY KITCHEN. He abruptly stopped short. "Why'd this have to be the first place?" he asked out loud.
"So what's the difference?" Zee asked, unfamiliar with the Brothers' past run-ins with Bob.
"You wouldn't know," Elwood said quickly.
"I'm starving!" Katrina spoke up. Elwood shrugged. "Well, we lucked out last time, I guess we'll be OK again."
"Just so as long as we don't have to do any more puffball diseases," Mack told him, "That one kind of made me feel a little low."
"You won't have to," Jake said, "If worst comes to worst, I'll just generate a synergy that'll make them see us as something else."
"You stay here, Armstrong," Elwood told the dog as he got out, "We'll get you some bones after we're done. The dog licked his face, apparently having subsided on even less than bones under Suntzman's thumb.
The Country Kitchen was fairly crowded for the early evening. "How many?" the waitress asked them.
"Nine, smo—non-smoking," Elwood said, noticing the kids closely.
"This way," the waitress herded them to the nearest large table. "We'll be with you in a minute," she told them.
"I know what I want," Elwood said, tossing his menu aside.
"Let me guess, dry white toast," Keith said with a smile.
"How'd you know that?" Elwood was amazed.
"Oh. I've had enough contacts to know your eating habits," Keith said.
There was a loud fanfare from the newly constructed stage section of the Country Kitchen, and Bob himself walked out on the stage. "Evening folks," he announced over the microphone, "I'm Bob and I hope you're enjoying your meals. Right now, for your entertainment, we'd like to present for your listening pleasure, the best country and western band out there, my old friend, direct from Nashville, put your hands together for the Good Old Boys!"
Elwood dove instinctively under the table as his old nemeses strode out on stage. Lead singer Tucker McElroy took the mike. "Thanks Bob," he told his pal, "Like he said, we're the Good Old Boys, and we've got a great show for you tonight, and we'll start off with the recording that just landed us seven Country Music Awards, the most for one song."
"Sound a little high and mighty, don't they?" Jake asked out loud, "Well I can fix that." He waved his finger, and Tucker, instead of singing his hit song, started crooning "I Will Survive"—in Gloria Gaynor's voice. The other Good Old Boys stopped playing and stared at their leader in total shock. Tucker, oblivious to this, started high kicking all over the stage, belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs. Boos started coming out the audience, who didn't like disco, and the beer bottles started flying. Bob ran over to his friend and started shaking him. "Tucker, get a hold of yourself!" he could be heard saying.
There was a loud ruckus from outside the restaurant. The doors slammed open as about a dozen unshaven and uncouth-looking bikers wearing black leather jackets inscribed BLACK DIAMOND RIDERS plowed their way in. "Hey babe, give us all beer, as much as you got," the huge leader of the group leered at the first waitress they came across. "Move over!" he ordered a nice all-American looking family, who promptly jumped up and gave them the whole table. "Come on boys, let's clear this place out," he told his associates as they plopped down next to him.
"Boy, they're not too pleasing, "Zee commented.
"No kidding," Rocky was on his feet, burning with a tremendous rage that Elwood had never seen before. "Their my old gang," his cellmate said darkly, "The guys who set me up and ruined my life." He started to get up. Cabel grabbed his arm. "Violence is not warranted in this case," he tried to warn his fellow Brother.
"This is further than you think, Cabel," Rocky pushed him aside. He tapped the head biker on the shoulder. "Mad Dog McMurdo, remember me?" he asked him roughly.
The head biker turned to face him. "Can't say I remember," he said.
"Maybe this will jog your memory!" Rocky delivered a hard right hook to his face. The other bikers jumped up, fists balled. "Rocky Topton," Mad Dog remembered now, "Funny to see you out again. How's life in Joliet treating you?"
"You set me up you slug!" Rocky took another swing. Cabel again interceded. "Gentlemen, what we need here is brotherly love and peace," he said melodiously.
"Shut up, retard!" Mad Dog slugged him in the face. He turned to Rocky and said, "If you think you scare me, you're dead wrong."
"You should be scared, because the cops are on their way and..." Rocky started to bellow.
"Okay Rock, I think you need to save room for the dessert," Elwood interrupted, dragging Rocky back to his table.
"What's going on over here!?" Bob demanded, storming over, "Fighting ain't allowed in the Country Kitchen!"
"I told them that," Cabel said, getting to his feet.
"Wait a minute," Bob eyed Elwood closely, "I've seen you before."
"Uh, I get that a lot," Elwood said quickly.
"IT'S THEM BLUES BROTHERS!" came Tucker's voice from the stage. The singer was pointing straight at his enemies, looking possessed. "Aha!" Bob shouted, pointing an accusatory finger in Elwood's face, "I knew I knew you! You still owe me that three hundred dollars for beer twenty years ago!"
"Well now's not the time, Bob, we're kinda broke right now," Elwood said quickly. He started taking steps backwards.
"Oh no you don't, I want it now!" Bob stepped toward him.
"Check please," Elwood yelled to the waitress. He waved for the others to follow him out. On the way out, he grabbed a fried chicken off an old man's plate. "It's for my dog," he explained hastily.
"Come back here you petty thieves!" Bob yelled running after them. The Brothers piled into the Bluesmobile. Elwood tossed the chicken into the back seat to Armstrong. "Here's your meal," he told his pet.
"Great, now I don't even get to eat!' Zee growled as Bob yanked hard on the locked door.
"We'll find another place," Elwood started the old police car and pulled out onto the road again.
The Good Old Boys emerged from the restaurant. "Need our help, Bob?" Tucker asked his friend.
"Sure, Tucker, get your rifles and ax handles ready," Bob said, "We're going to hunt them down." As he and the country singers ran back into the country kitchen, the Black Diamond Riders came out and jumped on their bikes. "If Rocky talks, we could be in trouble," Mad Dog told his associates, "So let's wipe 'em out so he don't talk. After 'em, boys!"
"YEAH!!" his fellow bikers roared. They revved up their bikes and zoomed off after the Bluesmobile.
"So you've got a grudge with those guys?" Mack asked Rocky as the Bluesmobile tore down the highway at almost eighty miles an hour.
"Those pigs sent me up the river!" Rocky growled, still looking infuriated, "It was fine the first couple of years riding with them, but once they started raping and pillaging through towns like there was no tomorrow, I told them I'd had enough, and they framed me for murder! I swore I'd get back at them, and if goodie two shoes back here hadn't stopped me...!"
"Violence wasn't warranted in this case," Cabel reiterated.
"Yeah, well tell me when...!" Rocky was cut off as gunfire ripped into the back of the Bluesmobile. The Black Diamond Riders were firing off sawed-off shotguns and were gaining ground. More shotgun blasts were coming from the distance, where the Good Old Boys' Winnebago was coming on strong. "Any escape ideas, Elwood?" Mack asked him.
"I'm thinkin'," Elwood made a hard left turn, "Right now I need some space between me and them."
But space wasn't forthcoming, as some of the bikers were now drawing alongside the old police car and slashing at it with sabers and their rifle butts. One of them smashed open the left passenger side window. Katrina and Keith slouched down as the saber came slicing in.
"WATCH THE TRAIN!!" Zee shouted, pointing at the road ahead of them. A train was crossing it not more than a hundred feet ahead. At the last second Elwood swerved hard to the right and drove parallel to the train, the bikers and Good Old Boys still hot on their trail.
"Well Elwood, have you done your thinking?" Jake's natural brother pressed him. Elwood noticed several baggage ramps alongside of the train. "Yep, and I got an idea now," he said, "It's somethin' I saw Buick Chase do in a movie once."
"I think you mean Chevy Chase, Elwood,": Keith corrected him.
"Whatever," Elwood took a good look at the train. He saw an open boxcar coming from about a quarter mile away.. He had to time it exactly right. Swerving toward the woods to his right, he swung back around, ducking to avoid the shotgun blasts coming through his windshield, and accelerated toward the nearest ramp. The Bluesmobile roared up it and rocketed through the open boxcar just in time, landing safely on the other side of the tracks. "YES!" Keith pumped his fists in excitement, "I've waited my whole life to do something like that!"
"Have you?" Zee asked weakly. There was now a wet spot in his pants.
On the old side of the tracks, Mad Dog waved for his men to follow him. "Come on boys!" he shouted in encouragement, "If those nuts can do that, so can we!" The Black Diamond Riders roared toward the next ramp down the tracks, tried to make the same jump through the boxcar, and failed miserably, slamming hard into the side of the car. "Just like in the movies!" one of the bikers grumbled as the train carried them down the tracks.
"No matter," Mad Dog barked, "We'll keep following them. We can't let Rocky spill everything to the cops, or we'll all get chaired!"
Behind them, the Winnebago skidded to a halt. "I ain't trying that," Tucker said, pointing to the bikes sticking out of the car.
"Good," Bob agreed, "I don't want another mishap like last time with you and that stupid gas pedal."
"That wasn't my fault for the last time, Bob!" Tucker shouted.
"All right, it wasn't your fault," Bob said quickly. He looked out at the train, which seemed a mile long. "Go back to the crossing," he told his buddy, "Once this thing goes by, we'll see if we can find where they're going."