AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not much to say this time, for once. Oh, except for the fact that this will probably be the last chapter featuring a lot of mentions to motorsports figures of the early 1980s.

Legal Disclaimer and Crap: I don't own the Raccoons…Instead of repeating that, I'd like to take the moment to pose something to you. What if the Raccoons were to be revived in the modern era? It would certainly be very interesting to see the differences between the original series and a new series set in the present day. Of course, they'd have to recast some of the voices: Bert's voice actor, Len Carlson, and Cedric's voice actor, Marvin Goldhar, have both gone to the great forest in the sky since the show has ended. I'm not sure if Ralph's voice actor, Bob Dermer, and Cyril's voice actor, Michael Magee, are even still doing voice acting anymore (I wasn't able to find anything that indicated they still were). So my question is, if a modern revival were made, who would you want to be cast as the new voices for the characters? Personally, for Bert, I'd have to nominate Dan Castellaneta, who is most famous for voicing Homer Simpson and numerous other characters from the Simpsons (though I'll also never forget him for playing Earthworm Jim in the wacky, but unfortunately short-lived cartoon series based on the classic videogame). Just as long as he doesn't use his Barney Gumble voice for Bert (I actually imagined Bert speaking with Barney Gumble's voice. It was…jarring, to say the least). As for the others…I'm not too sure.

But anyways…

CHAPTER 4: Nothing At All

After a few minutes, I managed to get back to my dorm. I hoped Bert wouldn't be too upset at my rather lengthy absence. As a matter of fact, Bert didn't even notice me come in at first: it'd seemed he'd gotten tired of waiting for me, and now he had his guitar hooked up and was practicing some songs. Bert just could not seem to pick a personal favorite genre of music; it had been glam rock during the latter days of elementary school, and punk rock in high school. Now he was into several genres, but most of all, he'd taken in interest in heavy metal and the finger-flashing guitar "gods" of the past decade, among them Ritchie Quackmore, Jimmy Crane, Jeff Cluck, and Eddie Van Hooten. He had developed quite a taste for groups such as Blue Oyster Cult, Steel Airship, Deep Blue, Van Hooten and Double Rainbow. I personally had little interest in metal music at all; I thought it was much too loud for my taste. He'd later develop an interest in fur metal, which featured bands such as Twisted Brother, Def Leopard, and Whitesnake-but I'd rather not share my opinion on them…

Bert was playing a song I well recognized, an old song that was a hit when I was a really young kit that had been performed by a British group called the Kooks. However, the version he was playing was obviously inspired by the cover that Van Hooten had done that was now considerably more well known. I personally didn't care much for their cover version at all, but Bert did; although he was not doing a very good job at playing the song.

After a while Bert eventually noticed I'd come back, so he put his guitar down. "There ya are, Ralphie!" He said. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I went to the café, remember?"

"Yeah, but you usually aren't gone that long. You were gone…almost an hour and a half?"

I looked at the clock on our wall. Indeed, that was about how long I'd been gone.

"Sorry, Bert, I lost track of the time, I guess."

Bert, however, wasn't having any of that. "No, Ralph, that's not like you at all. What happened? Did the place catch on fire? Was there a fight? Did a car crash through the wall?"

Bert was just speculating, but I answered, truthfully, "No, Bert, I met someone."

"Met someone, eh? Who?"

"Ah…a girl."

"A girl? Hah, well good for you, Ralphie! So you've got a girlfriend now?"

"No, not exactly. I…uh…I sort of spilled my coffee on her."

Bert shook his hand. "Ralphie, Ralphie, Ralphie…what are we gonna do about you…"

"But she was pretty nice about it. We ended up talking for a while, and it seems like we're friends now."

"Hah, good for you Ralph!" Bert slapped me on the back.

"Hey, don't do that!"

"Sorry, Ralph. But I was right, wasn't I? I told you things would get better in college!"

"It certainly seems that way." I'd hoped he'd been right when he told me that nearly a year ago, and it looked like he was. For once.

"So, Ralph, what's her name?"

"Uh…Melissa Mulligan."

"Is she the daughter of that bartender?"

"Bartender, what bartender?" She hadn't told me anything about her father being a bartender.

"You don't know? The one who opened up the new bar about a year and a half ago."

Now I remembered. "Oh. That same one that you and a bunch of our high school classmates were prank calling last year, I'm assuming?"

"Yeah, that's the one!" You see, right around the time we hit high school, prank calls had started to become a quite popular activity. Bert and some of my other, rather mischievous classmates would call stores, bars, and even businessmen like Cyril Sneer asking if their refrigerator was running or asking if someone who happened to have a name that was actually very crude was there. I didn't really see the appeal in it at all, but Bert seemed to.

"So that's her father?" I asked.

"Yeah. At least, I think so…"

I would have never taken her to be the daughter of a guy running a second home for the forest's alcoholics.

"So, Ralph," Bert asked, "do you think you have a shot with her?"

That was rather sudden.

"Uh, Bert, I think it is way too early to be even thinking about that, don't you?" Bert was thinking way too many steps ahead.

"I don't Ralph; it sounds to me like she's interested in you."

"Bert, I barely even know Melissa. I just met her. I think that's far too soon to be thinking that far ahead." Sometimes I didn't know about Bert…

"Not if she's interested in ya!"

Oh boy.

"It was you who told me I shouldn't be in a hurry to look for a girlfriend, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was, but, c'mon Ralph. If she's interested in you, you can't pass the opportunity up!"

I really didn't want to discuss this anymore than we already had.

"Bert, enough, please."

Bert didn't get the hint.

"If she wanted you to go out with her, would ya turn her down?"

That was not a question I wanted to answer at this stage.

"Uh…I…um…" I said, my face glowing red with embarrassment, "I..uh…I suppose not?"

"See, Ralphie? You two were made for each other!"

I just shook my head.

Soon Bert calmed down and we were watching the local news. Then, we got a phone call.

It was Cedric, from Indianapolis. I took it that meant that the race had already ended.

Bert picked up the phone. I could overhear their conversation:

"Hello?"

"Hi, Bert! This is Cedric!"

"Hey Cedric! So how was Indianapolis?"

"It was great, Bert. There's a great atmosphere around here. I got to visit Gasoline Alley, and meet most of the drivers. I got a bunch of autographs."

"Really, you did? Of who?"

"Oh, most of the drivers! I have Bobby and Al Brunser, Rick Shears, Danny Owlgais, A. J. Frog, Gordy Johncluck, Mario Hendretti, Johnny Wolverford, well, I have all their autographs. I also have all of the rookie drivers' autographs."

Bert then asked excitedly, "Do you have…?"

"Yes, Bert! I have Tom Sneva's autograph. He really was a nice guy! Did you know he was a high school math teacher before he drove at Indy?"

Bert was overjoyed. "Wow-ee! Tom Sneva's autograph! I can't wait to see it!"

Cedric said, "Oh, I'll be sure to show it to you during the summer."

"Wow, I can hardly wait!"

Bert then asked, "So, Cedric, how was the race?"

"It was a good one, Bert. Wish you could have been here-it was very competitive!"

"Did Tom Sneva win?" Of course Bert would ask that.

"You'll have to watch and find out, Bert-I don't want to give away what happened."

"C'mon Cedric, you can at least tell me who won!"

"I can't tell you that, but I can tell you the finish was very controversial!"

I overheard that part loud and clear. Controversial finish? My news writer instincts were kicking in-that would make a good story for Evergreen U's paper (although we were a small college, we did have a paper that I worked on). Usually we only reported local happenings around the Evergreen Forest or stuff that was going on around campus, but sometimes we'd report bigger events, such as world news and sporting events.

"Well, I can hardly wait to watch it! Say Cedric, what happened to your pop's driver, Howlsmer or whatever. Did he do well? Is he rookie of the year?"

"Well, that I can answer Bert-let me just say that Pop wasn't too happy with the outcome!"

So it was exactly as I thought. Sneer Racing had dropped out of the Indy 500. How many laps they'd lasted was the only thing I didn't know yet.

"Haha! I'm glad you had a good time, Cedric!"

"Yes, maybe if Pop does this again next year, I might be able to get you and Ralph tickets."

Bert nearly had a heart attack upon hearing that.

"You-you mean-I might get to meet…Tom…Sneva?"

"It's possible, Bert!"

"Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!"

Personally, I didn't want to see the race in person myself, but if I were offered a ticket, I don't honestly think I would have passed it up.

"So, if I may ask Bert, what have you and Ralph been up to since the last time I called?"

"Oh, me and Ralphie boy have been doing great. Hey, guess what, Cedric?"

I was hoping he wasn't about to tell Cedric what I thought he might tell him.

"What's that?" I heard Cedric ask.

"Cedric, Ralph's got a girlfriend!" I groaned. There weren't many things I didn't like about Bert, but this was something I did not like-he had a tendency to start running his mouth when he got excited about something.

"Gee, really, Bert? That's great! I knew all that hard work Ralph does would pay dividends for him someday!"

Why did Bert have to do this? Why? I slapped my face with my paw. I should have never brought this up with him.

"I told him he could do it Cedric. I knew he'd find the right one someday!"

Ugh.

"Well, tell Ralph I wish him and his newfound love the best of luck, and I can't wait to see them this summer!"

"Oh, I will, Cedric. He's right here, actually."

"Well, that's good. I'll catch you later Bert, I've got to go catch the plane with my Pop soon to head back to UBC!"

"Bye, Cedric." Bert hung up the phone.

I was scowling at Bert as he looked at me.

Bert gulped. "You heard all that, didn't ya?"

"I did, Bert. As a matter of fact, I heard every word of it."

"You're upset now, aren't you?" Bert looked a little nervous.

"A little, yes." I said.

"Gee, uh, I'm sorry Ralph…"

I sighed. I couldn't stay upset at him for too long, even if he had embarrassed me; I knew he hadn't intended to do that.

"It's okay Bert. But please, if you don't mind, you shouldn't be telling everybody that Melissa and I are going out. I don't even know if that'll end up happening. Plus, things like that get around, and I'm sure it'll get back to her sooner or later."

"Okay, you got it, pal."

Soon, it was dark and it was almost time for the race to come on.

"Oh boy!" Bert exclaimed. "It's almost time!"

"Yeah, Bert." I said, gathering together a pen and a notepad to write down notes about the race for the article I'd be writing about it.

"But first…" Bert said, chuckling to himself, "A little pre-race entertainment."

I didn't understand. "What do you mean, pre-race entertainmen-" Much to my surprise, Bert picked up the phone again.

"Bert, you're not going to…?"

He was, however. He was dialing the local bar-the very same one that I now knew Melissa's father ran (There were actually two bars in the Evergreen Forest, and Bert knew the numbers of both of them). He'd done this before and he was about to do it again.

"Bert, no, don't call that place…"

It was too late.

I heard the gruff voice of Mr. Mulligan answer.

"Hello, this is Mike's Beer Emporium," answered Mr. Mulligan (his first name was Mike), "home of the best beer around the Evergreen Forest. How may I help you?"

Bert quickly spoke: "Ah, I'm trying to find a friend of mine who I believe is there. His name's Jacques."

I realized exactly what dirty name he was going to use right away. He'd used this before on the other bar.

"Jacques, you say?" asked Mr. Mulligan.

"Yeah. His last name is Strappe."

"Okay. I'll see if I can find him for you. Ah…is there a Jacques Strappe here? Jacques Strappe? Folks, I'm trying to find me a Jacques Strappe here, has anybody seen a Jacques Strappe?"

I could hear the whole bar burst into laughter, my own father was probably among them.

The voice of one of the patrons could be heard, "You ever try looking in a sporting goods store?"

"Wait a minute. You said you were looking for a Jacques Strappe…oh." Mr. Mulligan said, not happy at all, realizing he'd been had.

"You dirty little snot-nosed prick! Listen to me here, bub, if I ever find out who you are, I'm gonna take a screwdriver and twist your eyeballs out of your eye-sockets! Then I'm gonna shove them up your rear end so you can get a first-hand look of me kicking your ass! And then, I'll cut your chest cavity open and slice your heart up into little pieces!"

Bert was laughing, hard. I wasn't. Why did he have to do that?

"Now don't call me again, buddy!" I heard the phone hang up.

Bert was crying tears of mirth. "So, Ralph. What'd ya think?"

"Delightful, Bert," I said sarcastically. "By the way, you are aware that was Mr. Mulligan's bar, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah." Bert said, sheepishly. "That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"What do you think?"

"Sorry, Ralph," Bert apologized. "Didn't know that would bother you."

"Bert, I thought I'd just like to remind you that we have a paper due for Professor Leffler due this Wednesday. You haven't started on it, have you?" Professor Leffler was the only class we had together at all. He taught a history class.

"Uh oh..." Bert said, realizing something. "I haven't even started on mine..."

"I already finished mine last week. I take it you'll want help again?"

He looked at me. "Well, if you don't mind, buddy..."

I sighed. "Sure, why not. I'll help you do your research. But remember, you have to type it up in your own words, Bert. Rememeber?"

"I got ya Ralphie. Loud and clear."

"Good, then."

Then it was time for the race to come on TV. Even though I'd picked A. J. Frog to win the race, it didn't really matter to me who won-so long as nobody got hurt. The very first year we'd watched the race, there had been a bad crash at the start that injured one driver and hurt severa of thel fans, and another crash later on that caused fatal injuries to another driver, Swede Savagely.

It would have been nice to have a Canadian driver in the field to cheer for, though. Sadly, there were none entered in the race. The field was made mostly up of drivers from the US, a handful of Australians, and one driver from Mexico.

Bobby Brunser, Mike Rosely, and A. J. Frog were on the front row as they took the green flag, and at the start, Brunser got ahead, as Tom Sneva, Rick Shears, and Mario Hendretti, all top-ranked drivers, were fighting to move up from their starting spots in the middle of the field.

Rosely quickly dropped out after only fifteen laps or so, and soon after, Johnny Wolverford, the defending winner of the race, took the lead. But just a few laps after he took the lead his car slowed as well, and he stopped on the track and brought out the yellow flag for the first time. Brunser got the lead back, but shortly afterward, Don Bittington crashed and brought another caution period. The new leader was now none other than…Tom Sneva, who rocketed out front on the restart and had a massive lead on second place Gordon Smelly, a skunk racer in his second career start at this speedway. Rick Shears soon moved his way into second.

"Go Tom! Go! You can do it!" Bert cheered wildly.

That day it looked like he did have the fastest car, but when it came time for pit stops, both Sneva and Shears had problems: Sneva stalled his car on his pit stop and went numerous laps behind (he'd eventually drop out of the race altogether with a parts failure), while Shears' car burst into flames abruptly behind him and he was out of the race altogether.

Just moments later, what I'd hoped I wouldn't happened…happened. There was a horrifying accident on the track. Danny Owlgais, an owl racer from the tropical islands of Hawaii called the "Flying Hawaiian" by some, lost control of his car and crashed horribly. I won't even bother describing this accident, because the memory still sticks in my mind to this day. Let's just say, it looked like he had not survived the accident. I almost threw up when they showed the…aftermath of the crash.

"Bert," I said, covering my eyes. "Please, change the channel, if you don't mind. I don't want to watch anymore of this."

"Gee..." Bert said, not sure what had happened. "I hope that guy's alright…"

Bert later told me they showed a few replays of the accident, but I couldn't bear to watch the race anymore until they were past the halfway point. By then, it was a battle between Gordy Johncluck, Bobby Brunser, Mario Hendretti, and a rookie driver from Mexico, an armadillo by the name of Josele Garza.

Halfway through the race, Pete Howlsmer and Sneer Racing were still running, but with maybe sixty laps to go, Howlsmer lost control of his car and backed it into the wall. He would finish exactly where he started, in twenty-fourth. Needless to say, Cyril Sneer was interviewed on TV by the television crew, and he…was not happy to say the least.

"No! This is an outrage!" He was shouting to the reporter, directly into the microphone. "I thought we had a better car than this. How could we end up losing so badly? How could this happen? Someone ripped me off!" As I'd expected we would, both Bert and I ended up chuckling over his interview.

Two more quick crashes happened, wiping out contenders Josele Garza and Gordon Smelly. This left just Brunser, Johncluck, and Hendretti in contention, but Brunser did something rather questionable…he passed about fifteen cars coming out of the pits; something the broadcasters openly said was a "No-no". We wondered if he'd get in trouble for that.

Johncluck eventually went out of the race when his car stopped running, and Brunser would end up winning over Hendretti…or did he? The broadcast team told us that Hendretti would be filing a protest against Brunser to have his win taken away for his…erm…stunt. As for A. J. Frog? He had a rough race and finished in thirteenth place, numerous laps behind.

"Boy, Ralph. That was quite some race, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Do you think they'll take the win away from Brunser?"

"I don't know, Bert. I'd say the chances are…fifty-fifty, perhaps."

We then went to bed that night.

As I said earlier, it was a day I'd never forget. The day I met my future wife. (Though I certainly did not know that at the time). And a day Bert would never forget either: the day of an Indianapolis 500.

Soon, however, summer would be upon us again…

END CHAPTER 4

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the last chapter featuring actual sporting events playing a semi-starring role, so if that did not catch your interest any, the next chapter will be better (I always will be saying that, it seems.) If anyone wants to know the real names of all of the drivers, then I will gladly message their real names.

Yes, Bert's prank call is straight out of a first-season episode of The Simpsons. However, Bart Simpson is hardly the originator of these prank phone call names. They were around at least a decade previously, and as far as I know first started frequently being used in the mid-1970s.

And for those who don't know, Gasoline Alley is the name of the garage area at Indianapolis.

In the next chapter, Melissa's father is properly introduced, and we also get to see some of Ralph's, Melissa's, and Bert's summer...

Continue reading and reviewing, as always.