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Travels With a Space Cadet; RAE fiction
Topic Started: Mar 8 2015, 08:49 PM (1,049 Views)
RetroGirl
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Okay, I should probably preface this story by saying that the opening scene was a response to a writing challenge. A member of the old Showbiz board challenged me to write a convincing "fight" between Dook and Beach Bear. So, there it is.

It's the story of the RAE's transition from The WolfPack 5, with a bunch of in-references. Let me know when you spot them.

********

Travels with a Space Cadet
By RetroGirl




Beach Bear relaxed in his seat and hummed happily to the radio as he drove down the winding Louisiana backroad. It had been several years since he had seen his pal, Dook, and he was looking forward to the reunion. He had no idea if Dook felt the same, since the silly hound hadn't seen fit to install a telephone in that sorry excuse for a house boat he lived on. At any rate, Beach was optimistic that his own mission would be successful. Ever since he heard about the breakup of Dook's band, he knew what the drummer's next gig would be, and he was determined to make the contact, even if Dook Larue was going out of his way to be difficult to locate.

As he steered the van around a particularly sharp curve, Beach Bear could hear the sounds of the river lapping against the rocks and knew he was close. Suddenly, a loud yelp of pain pierced the stillness of the swampland, causing the bear to pull his van abruptly into the roadside weeds. He turned off the engine and listened intently. Harsh, angry voices, punctuated by Dook's distinctive growls and yelps, could be heard coming from the direction of the river.

"Awww, man," Beach muttered to himself as he unbuckled his seat belt. "Why can't that pooch ever stay out of trouble?"

Beach Bear eased out of the van and softly closed the door. Quietly he made his way through the woods, following the sounds of the voices until he came to a clearing. Concealing himself behind an ancient cypress, he surveyed the scene before him.

Dook's houseboat could be seen in the distance, tied up at a makeshift pier littered with fishing gear. Standing on the river's edge were three motley looking teenage humans, who apparently rode motorcycles to find their way into Dook's little piece of heaven. Dook was nowhere to be seen.

"Come on out, you freak!" the pimpliest kid yelled.

"Yeah! We don't want your kind around here!" his chubby friend croaked.

"G-Go away!" Dook's voice trembled a little from inside the boat. Beach Bear peered in that direction, but still couldn't see his buddy.

"I ain't hurtin' you boys!" Dook whimpered, making Beach Bear worry that he had been hurt in some melee.

The boys laughed harshly. "That's okay, Bowser! We'll do the hurtin'!"

The boys pulled up the dried brush, and taking out cigarette lighters, set it on fire. As they ignited the brush on the shore, Beach decided to take matters into his own paws. Stepping silently into the clearing, he waited to be noticed.

"There, you ugly mutt!" the biggest of the boys laughed. But as he stepped back to survey the damage, he ran straight into a wall of white fur. Beach Bear languidly dropped a paw on top of the kid's head and swiveled him around to face him.

"See, the problem is, that ugly mutt is my friend."

The kid gulped and the bear could see the other boys standing slack-jawed behind their leader.

"I think you should leave," Beach Bear added, softly. Then, drawing himself up to his full height, he smiled broadly, baring all of his gleaming white teeth in a pseudo-friendly smile.

"Now!!" he emphasized, as a gentle shove propelled the teen toward his motorcycle.

Suddenly the other boys sprang to life. They scrambled through the brush and, fumbling with their bikes, finally managed to get them upright and started. As they roared off down the road, Beach Bear found a pail in the litter of things around the pier and doused the smoldering brush with the swampy water.

"Dook?" he said, softly so as not to alarm his friend. "It's me. Beach Bear."

Not getting an answer, he made his way across the pier and stepped gingerly into the boat.

"Dook?"

He pushed open the cabin door and cautiously entered. Through the dimness, he could barely see Dook's living quarters. The built-in houseboat furnishings were made even more cramped by Dook's collection of strange and unusual personal items. As Beach Bear moved toward the center of the room, his foot contacted a bass drum, making a loud thump. As he was about to let out an unflattering comment, a ball of snarling brown fur launched itself from the corner and became attached to his arm.

"Dook!" Beach Bear yelled. "Stop! It's me!"

But his friend was in full territorial mode, teeth bared and glistening in the dim light. Luckily, fur was all he had been able to contact so far, so Beach Bear grabbed the dog with his free hand. Pulling him away, he tossed him down to the floor. Finding a light switch, he flipped it on and sternly faced his friend, who was on his haunches, ready to launch another attack.

"Dook! Down boy! Sit!"

The bear's words finally registered and Dook pulled up in mid launch, causing him to crash in a crazy heap onto the sofa. Dazed, he sat up and blinked confusedly at his friend.

"Beach? Is that you?"

Beach laughed. "Yeah, man. That's what I've been trying to tell you."

Dook laughed and launched himself at his friend, this time in a frenzy of hugs and backslaps. Suddenly, Dook pulled away and stood frowning at the bear.

"What's the matter? Did those delinquents hurt you?"

His friend maintained a stony silence, crossing his arms and pursing his lips.

"Dook?"

Dook tapped his foot in annoyance before finally speaking. "Sit? SIT? You did NOT just tell me to s-sit!"

Beach Bear roared with laughter and collapsed on the sofa. As his friend plopped on the chair, his ears twitching, Beach Bear was sure that his mission was now well underway. He had found his pal, the future drummer of the Rock-afire Explosion, and nothing could go wrong, now!

******

As the stars began to twinkle through the trees, Beach Bear stretched himself out on the deck of the boat and rubbed his belly.

"Man, that was some spread."

Dook, being the good Southern hound that he was, had not spared the fixin's. Even Beach Bear's refined palate had found plenty of tasty treats in his friend's hospitable offering. Now, with the pleasant lethargy that comes from full stomachs and good company, the friends settled into the evening and listened to the cicadas droning all around. The bear propped up against the cabin wall as Dook stretched out on the rooftop.

"Aren't they pretty, Beach?" Dook muttered in a dreamy voice.

"Yeah… What?"

"The stars. Aren't they pretty?"

"Oh yeah. Very beautiful. All hazy and blue, sort of like a Van Gogh painting. Very post-impressionist."

Dook frowned in puzzlement, then sat up and peered out toward the swamps in the direction Beach Bear was looking.

"Nah. That's not post-depression. That's just swamp gas."

He sighed as he rolled back onto the roof, his gaze fixed upward at the distant lights. "I'm going there someday."

"To the swamp?"

"Uh, no. To the stars. Outer space."

Beach Bear chuckled to himself. Dook had moments when it seemed he was completely disconnected from reality. He often had to be refocused and this singular trait frequently got him labeled a dimwit. But Beach Bear knew better. Dook Larue was just a dreamer.

"It's quiet up there, you know?" Dook continued. "I think I'd like that."

"Sez the drummer."

Dook paused to consider the contradiction. "Oh. Yeah."

They sat for a while in the growing dark, listening to the water lapping on the rocks as the tree frogs chirruped in the distance.

"Speaking of drumming," the bear finally ventured, "while you're waiting for NASA to call, well… you're naturally going to need a job."

"Yeah. That's why I play some… some clubs. You know?"

"Hmmm. Clubs are good. But, you know, it takes a lot of cash for interplanetary travel. You're going to need a steady gig."

"Yeah. Maybe so."

The silence of the evening grew heavy as the two friends began to drift into drowsiness.

"Beach?" Dook yawned as he curled up in a ball and closed his eyes. "You know of a steady gig?"

The bear smiled to himself. "Yeah. I think I do"

And with that the friends surrendered to their fatigue, and the overly eventful evening finally closed with a whisper.


*******


Fatz glared at the stage decorator as he rearranged the trees on the main stage. This was the fourth time the skinny little guy had moved that same flippin' tree, and the whole process was beginning to get on the gorilla's nerves.

"It's lookin' awful nice up there, Fatz," Billy Bob ventured.

"Yeah. It'll look great once that kid gets his paws off of it. Hope it sounds great, too."

"It will. We've been practicing for months, now. We're good! Well, we will be when we get a new drummer."

Fatz grunted. ShowBiz had opened their first restaurant with his former band, the Wolf Pack 5. But with the success of the new concept came the need to step things up, and the gang were now under pressure to create a whole new entertainment experience for their diners. After renaming themselves The Rock-afire Explosion, Fatz called in a favor from his friend, Billy Bob, who, with his sidekick, Loony Bird, was proving to be a valuable addition to the team. They first met when their respective bands were doing the state fair and amusement park circuit, and despite their differing styles and temperaments, had hit it off rather well. The young and talented Mitzi Mozzerella rounded out the band. Some relative of the Wolfman, named Rolfe, was also going to be joining them with a comedy act. Fatz wasn't crazy about comedians, but management felt it would provide needed variety.

They had been pushing pretty hard to keep the Antioch show running while rehearsing for this new show in Florida. Everyone was stretched a little thin, but Fatz didn't realize just how thin until the day they rehearsed Fleetwood Mac's Don't Stop. Dingo, the drummer, had turned in a spectacularly lifeless performance that day, and Fatz found himself a bit exasperated with him. Apparently the little guy wasn't up to the pressure, because he quit just a month before the opening of their second store in Jacksonville. Now, Fatz Geronimo found himself with a revamped band, a new stage show, and marching without a beat, so to speak.

"Any word from Beach Bear?" Mitzi asked as she dropped her school bag on the floor and settled into a chair with a fashion magazine.

"None since last night. He was heading out into the countryside to find that buddy of his."

Just then, the door of the dining room burst open and a grey wolf strode in, a duffle bag in one hand. Stopping just inside the door, he paused to glance over the stage set up.

"Well. Here I am, everyone. Your long wait is finally over."

"No one's waiting for you, Rolfe! You big idiot!" a voice inside the duffle croaked.

Fatz snorted. "Great. Our comedian is here."

Rolfe moved toward the little group, still eyeing the stage, his gaze stopping on the large Rock-afire Explosion sign at center. "Ah, wait. There appears to be some discrepancy, here. Where's my spot?"

Fatz pointed to the club set at stage right. The wolf's eyes opened wide. "Oh, no. That will never do. I was under the distinct impression that I would be the headliner."

"Rolfe!" the voice from the bag screamed, "The only headlines you're capable of relate to the arrest records in the newspapers!"

Rolfe snorted. Turning on his heels he headed for the door. "I need to talk to the management! This really isn't going to work."

As he disappeared from the room, Fatz groaned.

"Comics!" he muttered, through clenched teeth.

Just then, a loud crash jarred everyone from their seats. Fatz looked in the direction of the main stage, where all of the trees had just toppled backward onto the floor.

"Ah. Sorry about that!" the skinny kid yelped, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to right them.

With a groan, Fatz slumped back down in his chair and dropped his face in his hands. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse. He only hoped Beach Bear was having better luck than he was.

Edited by RetroGirl, Mar 8 2015, 08:59 PM.
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PaulKTF
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Awesome story, Cindy!
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RetroGirl
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Beach Bear startled awake to the sound of the boat's engines coming to a full roar. Dazed, he pulled himself to his feet, staggered toward the cabin and reached to open the door. A sudden bump caused him to lurch gracelessly into room. Blinking, he located Dook near the window, his furry paws on the wheel of the boat.

"Dook, I don't want to seem like an alarmist, but this boat's moving."

Dook turned and blinked at his friend.

"Um. Yeah. I need a new suit," he said, as if this should be obvious.

"Okay. You couldn't get that in New Orleans?"

Dook shook his head, his ears flicking. "Nope. I saw one in Galveston I liked. Gonna go get it."

Beach Bears eyes widened. "Ah, you know, we really didn't get to talk much about that gig, but I probably should tell you... It' s in Florida."

Dook didn't answer, his attention preoccupied with steering the boat through the marshes and out into the open water.

"Dook. We're going the wrong way."

"Not if you want a really snazzy suit."

Beach Bear sighed with resignation and dropped onto the sofa. Rummaging around, he found a box of day old doughnuts. As he munched on the last chocolate one, he couldn't help but think that Fatz would not be happy. At all.

*****

Fatz was not happy. At all.

"See, here's the thing," he explained to the upper management flunky on the telephone. "We had this show pretty well worked out when Dingo quit. We open in two weeks. I don't have a drummer and my lead guitarist is AWOL. I can't add stuff in at the last minute."

"Fatz, I understand your concern." The voice on the other end tried to be placating. "But, we think Rolfe's act will work better if it's integrated into your show."

"He's a comedian!" Fatz complained, as if that was reason enough not to include him.

"And the kids will love it."

Fatz growled his annoyance.

"Just make it work, Fatz!" With that, the conversation was ended. As Fatz hung up the phone, he gave Rolfe DeWolf a cool stare through narrowed eyes.

"Okay. Here's the deal. We'll break the show up into segments. Give you more stage time. If you know a song, you can sing along, but we reserve the right to turn off your mic if your singing sucks swamp water."

Rolfe tilted his head in thought. "Take it, you dummy!" the furry puppet on his arm groused. "It's the best deal you've ever had!"

"Well, all right," Rolfe said. "But, I want a decent amount of time for my segments."

"Fine," Fatz muttered.

As Rolfe took his puppet, Earl, to the stage for a practice routine, Fatz left the dining room and began looking around for Billy Bob. He found the bear and Looney Bird checking out the games.

"Playing Skee-Ball?" Fatz asked.

"Looney's always wanted to try it," Billy Bob explained.

"Yeah! It looks fun!" the bird added.

"So, try it!" Fatz handed Looney one of the smooth balls. The bird grabbed it in one wing and began to whirl around for a wind up.

"No, Looney! You roll it!" Billy Bob yelled. But it was too late. Looney launched the ball toward the board. It bounced off the backboard, causing Fatz and Billy Bob to duck as it ricocheted across the room, finally crashing into the video games behind them. Fatz cringed at the sound of broken glass.

"That's coming out of your paycheck," he admonished, as he turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Billy Bob asked.

"To my room. I need an aspirin."

******
The trip to Galveston proved fairly uneventful, but had chewed up two days of valuable time. Beach Bear wasn't sure if his many mentions of the impending show in Jacksonville were registering with his unfocused friend. Every time the subject came up, Dook launched into a lengthy description of the snazzy suit he planned to buy in Galveston. Beach Bear knew Fatz would be pacing the floor, working himself into a frenzy over the lost rehearsal time, but decided to be all Zen about the situation and go with the flow. It really was the best way, where Dook was concerned. He found an old guitar tucked into the corner of the boat's cabin, and the two friends spent their days singing and playing some of their favorite songs. Of course, it helped that many of those songs were also on the set list for Jacksonville. Some rehearsal was better than no rehearsal, the bear figured.

On arrival, Dook immediately jumped off the boat and set off at a mild trot.

"Okay, so where are we going?" Beach Bear asked.

"Downtown."

"Where downtown?"

"Swifty Joe's."

"Address?"

There was a moment's pause. "Um. Downtown."

After stopping at five service stations and consulting three phone directories, the two finally arrived at Swifty Joe's Clothing Emporium.

"Th-there it is!" Dook breathed, enraptured at the window display.

Beach Bear blinked. "That's it?"

Dook nodded. "Snazzy, huh?"

Beach Bear squinted at the ugly green plaid shirt jacket and green pants. It all looked vaguely familiar. Dingo favored that same look, and Beach Bear never really liked it.

"I think that's the same material my seat covers are made of, man. Are you sure you want that suit?"

Dook shrugged. "I could look at some others."

An hour and a half later, they were finally out of the door of Swifty Joe's with the green plaid safely boxed up and paid for. Finding a friendly looking deli, they slipped in to get something to eat. As Dook pondered if he wanted sweet tea to drink, Beach Bear found a public phone.

"Beach Bear! Where are you?" Fatz roared on the other end.

"Galveston." The silence on the line told him Fatz was struggling for composure. "But, hey! On the positive side, we now have a drummer. I think."

"You think?"

"Yeah. Well, sometimes it's hard to tell."

"Look, you get that boy back here as soon as you can! We've got to get some rehearsal time in!"

"I'll see what I can do."

"What?"

"I mean, we'll get there as soon as we can."

"That's better. And if you know anyone who needs an comedy act, I'm willing to make a trade."

"Huh?"

"Never mind! Just get here!"

*****
Redirecting Dook proved to be harder than Beach Bear thought it would be. Apparently, he had a lot of friends in Galveston, and wanted to visit them all. When they finally got back to the boat, an exhausted Beach Bear dropped down on the sofa, rubbed his feet, and pondered the fact that he was no closer to getting Dook to Jacksonville than he was three days ago.

"Say, Dook," he ventured, as they settled down for the evening. "Since we need to get to Jacksonville pretty soon, what do you say we leave the boat in the marina here, pack a few things, and take a plane?"

Dook smiled as he fluffed his pillow. "I'm really glad I got that plaid suit. Looks good, huh?"

"Yeah. It's snazzy. So, what do you think?"

"I like it. It's snazzy."

"No, I mean about taking a plane out of here tomorrow."

"Whatever you want to do, Beach."

Beach Bear heaved a sigh of relief. At least now they'd be headed in the right direction. As he turned off the light, Dook stretched and let out a loud puppy yawn before curling up on the bed.

"Yessir, Beach," he murmured in the dark. "That's one snazzy suit."
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AD Machine
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Eagle Scout
Nice! Beutiful!
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RetroGirl
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"Excuse me!" Rolfe intoned to the tech booth. "But, I think you've gotten the lighting cue wrong again! Move that spotlight back over here!"

"Your time's up, Rolfe!" Fatz grunted from behind his keyboard. "Your flea-bitten act is over and we're going to do our number now!"

"You know, I have to admire your nerve," Rolfe snickered. "I've never heard Do You Love Me played on an organ and a cigar-box banjo."

"It's a keyboard!" Fatz protested.

"And really, it's not a cigar-box banjo," Billy Bob pointed out. "It's a cigar-box guitar!"

"Ooh. I stand corrected!"

"And, there's the fact that we're missing a few members," Fatz continued. "But that's okay. I'll just sit here waiting for you to tell some jokes that aren't 50 years old."

"Fine. And I'm dying to see the 'Explosion' in the 'Rock-afire Explosion.' " Rolfe chucked at his own cleverness. "Get it, Earl?"

"I get it, Rolfe!" the puppet snarked. "You'd better be careful, or you're gonna get it!"

Fatz looked over at Billy Bob, patiently waiting at stage left. "Can we keep the little guy and ditch the wolf?" he asked.

"I don't think that will work, Fatz," Billy Bob said, wearily. The tension of putting together a crippled show with only a week and a half to go, was beginning to get to everyone.

Mitzi sighed. "Has anyone heard from Beach Bear?"

"Yeah. He's got the little drummer dog on an airplane headed for Jacksonville," Fatz informed her. "Hopefully, things will come together, now."

"Good." Mitzi's voice sounded relieved. "Because this whole scene is really getting lame!"

"Speaking of lame, have you met my partner?" Earl barked from stage right.

"See," Fatz said to Billy Bob. "I like him."

"I'm just afraid they're a package deal, Fatz."

Fatz glared at the wolf and sighed. "That's what I was afraid of."

****

Dook had enjoyed the air trip from Galveston way too much. Claiming the window seat, he was bouncing with joy most of the way in to Atlanta. Their fellow passengers thought the whole thing endearing at first, but 20 minutes into the flight their indulgence of Dook's constant prattle quickly wore off. After an hour's layover, where they ate and bought a few souvenirs, the two band mates were now on the runway again, waiting to depart for Jacksonville.

"This is almost like being in space, huh Beach?"

"Pretty close there, Dook."

'Yeah. One day I'll get to go even higher."

Beach Bear sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. A little over an hour and they would finally be in Jacksonville.

"Delta passengers, this is your captain speaking. Please give me your attention."

"Don't say it, don't say it…." Beach Bear chanted under his breath.

"We appear to have a slight problem…"

"Don't say it, don't say it…."

"The National weather service has issued a severe storm warning for this area…"

"Don't say it…."

"All flights out of Atlanta have been grounded."

"He said it!" Beach Bear threw up a paw in exasperation.

"Please prepare to de-plane."

Dook tugged disappointedly at his little flat cap. "Aw. I was really looking forward to that."

As they retrieved their carry on luggage from the overhead bins, Beach Bear was careful to avoid crushing the old guitar he'd strapped to his duffle. Smiling, he tried to remain optimistic.

"It's no big deal, my friend. The storm will pass and we'll just catch a later flight."

As they emerged into the airport, Dook glanced around at the crowds of stranded flyers starting to form in the lobby.

"So… ah, so what do you want to do in the meantime, Beach?"

Beach Bear shrugged. "Long layovers are always good rehearsal time," he mused. "But we won't be here that long."

Dook nodded. "Nah. We won't be here that long."

*****
"Well, the weather forecast is for severe storms in Atlanta for the next two days." Billy Bob was keeping an eye on the weather reports for Fatz, since the gorilla had as much on his plate as he could possibly handle. "Looks like Beach Bear isn't going to be flying out of there any time soon."

Fatz groaned. "You know, If I didn't know better, I'd think Chuck E Cheese was behind all this. Does that sound paranoid?"

"Well, you know what they say: You're not paranoid if they're really out to get you."

Fatz smiled wanly at his friend's attempt to make light of the situation. "So, tell me again why they don't just catch a bus. I mean, it's a five hour drive, but at least they'd be here and not there!"

"Buses aren't running this way. Remember? The flooding caused landslides over the highway."

"Oh, yeah. We just can't catch a break, can we?"

"Don't worry, Fatz. Once the weather lifts, I'm sure they'll be right down."

"Yep. And that will give us exactly five days of rehearsal with the new guy," Fatz muttered. "Five days. Boy, I hope he's good!"

*****

"Do Unchained Melody again!" a young woman pleaded. Dook repositioned the garbage can he was using as a drum and launched into a heartfelt rendition of the classic, with Beach Bear supporting him deftly on the guitar. As the last note faded, the crowd in the lobby applauded warmly.

"You guys are good," one of their newly made fans said. "You should be playing in a club or a restaurant somewhere."

"Yes, we should," Beach Bear nodded, the unintentional truth of the statement not escaping him.

As the crowd began to break up a little, Dook smiled at his friend. "If… you know… if we do the Beatles medley again, I'll have enough money."

Beach Bear frowned in puzzlement. "Enough money. For what?"

Dook picked up his cap from the floor and rattled the change inside. "For that model airplane in the gift shop."

Beach Bear's mouth dropped open. "You mean you've been playing for tips this whole time?"

"N-not the whole time. Just since this morning."

Beach Bear looked at the sizable amount of change in the dog's cap. "Wow. Wish I had thought of it."

Dook smiled and tinkled the coins in his cap. "Latte?"

"Don't mind if I do!" Beach Bear clapped his friend on the back as they headed in the direction of the coffee shop. "Then maybe we can rehearse… I mean 'play'… that Beatles medley again."

*****
Billy Bob entered the restaurant ready to rehearse his skit with Looney Bird, but the sight of Fatz' face nearly made him turn around and go back. Fatz was on the house phone, and it was obvious the news was not good.

"Yes, I do realize that we are only one week away from opening," he said.

"Look, Fatz," the voice on the other end said. "This opening is important to this company. We plan to open as many as 200 of these family entertainment centers all across the region. It's important that the Jacksonville location be successful if we're going to achieve that goal."

"I understand. And we're going to give you the highest quality entertainment possible."

"So, you've got a full band now?"

Fatz hesitated momentarily. "Yes. We have a full band."

"Good. And, everyone's been rehearsing?"

"I hope so."

"What's that?"

"I said, 'you know so.'"

There was a momentary silence on the other end. "We do have some concerns, Fatz. So that's why we're coming down there."

"What? When?"

We'll be down there a few days before opening night. That way, if we need to shift the focus of the show, we can."

"Shift the focus of the show? To what?"

"Other entertainment options. We'll come down there in four days. And we expect to see a full stage show when we do."

Fatz stared at the phone for a few seconds before hanging up. "Other entertainment options, huh?" he muttered.

The gorilla stood up and headed for the dining room where Rolfe was rehearsing. Billy Bob ran ahead, positioning himself in the door to block his path.

"Now Fatz," Billy Bob cautioned. He had a good idea where this was headed. "Violence never solves anything!"

"Who said anything 'bout violence? I'm just gonna have a friendly little talk with our 'entertainment options'."

"Fatz…"

Fats shrugged in resignation. "Okay. But keep that comic away from me."

"Will do!"

"And get a message to Beach Bear. He needs to get himself down here, now!"
Edited by RetroGirl, Mar 16 2015, 12:32 PM.
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Beach Bear rolled over on the narrow seat and stretched, almost landing in the floor in the process. He was beginning to regret his decision to save money by not getting a motel room. Most of the stranded passengers were waiting for the airline to offer housing, but so far that wasn't happening. Sitting up on the hard bench, he tried to work the kinks out of his neck.

"Wow. I sure will be glad to see my bed again. What about you, Dook?"

When there was no answer, the bear alerted and scanned the room, looking for his traveling partner. It was very early in the morning and the lobby was still filled with stranded travelers in various makeshift cots and beds. But, there was no sign of Dook.

"If you're looking for your friend, he said he was going out." The drowsy looking man smiled as he balanced his morning coffee and sticky bun on one knee.

"Out?" Beach Bear tried to hide the twinge of concern he suddenly felt. "Out where?"

"To look at the planes, or something."

Beach Bear groaned as he pulled himself from the bench and walked to the window. Atlanta International Airport was at a complete standstill, with every airliner standing in inches of water as the rains continued to pound. Add to that the frequent lightening strikes, and the tarmac was a dangerous place to be. Beach Bear walked up and down the line of plate glass windows, searching for a glimpse of his friend. Not immediately seeing him, he began to get concerned. This was one big airport.

"Say," Beach Bear signaled to a couple of passing security guards, "I'm sort of worried that my friend might have gone outside."

"Maybe," the older of the two, whose ID read Gus, commented. "Though it's raining cats and dogs out there."

"What's your friend look like?" the younger man, Steve, asked.

"A dog."

"Okay then. Well, they sell umbrellas in the gift shop."

"No. I don't think you're getting my drift. I think my friend took himself for a walk out on the runway."

"Not possible" Gus insisted. "All of the doors to the runways are completely secured."

"That's good."

"Well, there is that one door that the maintenance guys keep propping open," Steve commented.

"Yeah, I know! I keep writing them up on that, but no one does anything."

"Me too. You know, if we had it automated…"

"Excuse me," Beach Bear interrupted. "Where is this door?"

"Behind the coffee shop."

Beach Bear took off at a quick trot toward the coffee shop, the security guards right behind him. "I'm telling you," he said, "If there was a door open, Dook would find it!"

Arriving at the coffee shop, they quickly found the door, propped open by an empty styrofoam cup. Gus quickly radioed runway security to keep an eye out for Dook, but Beach Bear was getting impatient. With Gus and Steve close behind, he pushed out into the howling wind and rain.

"Dook!" they all called as the wind-whipped rain stung their faces. They were soon joined in the search by runway security, but after 15 minutes without a result, it became obvious this tactic wasn't going to work. Making their way back to the terminal, the security guards unlocked the nearest door and ran inside to escape the harsh weather. Beach Bear hesitated for a moment in the doorway.

"Dook! Where are you?" he called into the howling wind.

"Right here, Beach."

Beach Bear turned to see his friend standing behind him, a paper bag in his paws. "Wow. You're wet," the dog commented.

"That's because I went out in the rain looking for you."

"Why'd you do that?"

"Because they said you went out."

"I did. To the gift shop."

"They said you went out to look at the planes!"

"I did. I decided on this one." Dook carefully pulled the model plane from the bag and proudly displayed it for all to see.

"Isn't it a beauty?"

"Yeah. Great."

Beach Bear glanced up to see the annoyance written on the faces of the security guards. "Sorry about that, fellows."

"S'okay," Gus grudgingly said. "Just glad your friend's all right."

"Go by the customer service desk," Steve recommended as they trudged off. "They'll give you a towel."

Beach Bear looked down at the puddle he was standing in. His heavy fur was soaked through, and the air conditioning in the building was giving him a chill. He shuddered.

Dook pulled out the remainder of his pocket change. "Coffee?" he suggested.

Beach Bear nodded glumly, and they set off for the coffee shop by way of the customer service desk.

*****

Fatz admired himself in the mirror. With everything going haywire leading up to the Jacksonville opening, at least this one thing was right. The costumes were fabulous!

"I'm tellin' you what, this is one fine jacket!" he said, as Edith, the costume lady, made the final adjustments to the shoulders of the gold tuxedo.

"Every costume I make is designed to capture the essence of the performer," she commented, obviously pleased at the compliment.

"Then I must be one classy gorilla!" Fatz laughed.

Billy Bob was glad to see him in better spirits. "So," he said, smoothing a wrinkle out of his own striped overalls, "I guess I'm uptown country?"

Edith smiled. "You're our happy host, right? So I updated your costume to include the colors of the restaurant and to reflect the mood you will want to set. It's a very happy costume."

"Oh. Right! Yeah, I can see that!"

Edith pulled a hanger off of the costume rack. "Now, where is Beach Bear?"

"On his way," Fatz said. "From Atlanta. We think."

"That's what his telegram said," Billy Bob confirmed. "They've cleared some of the roads. The buses still aren't running but he's getting a ride with a trucker."

"Well," Edith said. "I was wanting to see if the blue in these board shorts brought out the blue in his eyes. It's too late for changes now, so he's stuck with them."

Billy Bob eyed the bright blue hawaiian shorts and lei Edith was holding. "Those are nice, Edith. Beach Bear will like them."

"Okay. Mitzi has her costume, so I guess my work is done here!" Edith gathered up her gear and left the two performers to manage on their own.

"What about the new drummer? Billy Bob asked.

"Edith can make something for him later," Fatz said, still admiring his reflection "Besides, we don't even know if he'll work out."

"Beach Bear seems pretty confident in him."

"True. And Beach Bear knows his stuff. But, enough about him. Take a look at that fine lookin' gorilla!"

*****

"The life I love is makin' music with my friends, and I can't wait to get on the road again!"

The windshield wipers beat time with the music and Beach Bear pulled his blanket closer, pressing his face against the cool window as Dook and Bubba sang along with Bubba's eight track of travelin' tunes. He didn't mind On the Road Again so much, but was going to draw the line on the fifth time around on Convoy He was about to doze off when another fit of sneezing and coughing overtook him. Dook handed him a box of tissue, which he gratefully accepted.

"That's one bad cold your buddy has there," Bubba commented.

"He went out in the rain to look at the planes."

"I did not." Beach Bear's voice was raspy and his nose was stopped up. "I went out in the rain because I thought you went out in the rain to look at the planes. There's a difference."

Beach Bear was nursing a bad cold, but was still optimistic about getting to Jacksonville in time for the opening when he got Billy Bob's wire about management's little visit. With their time cut down to four days, it became imperative that they take whatever means opened up to them. With some of the backroads cleared from the flash floods, truckers were taking alternate routes to get their deliveries in. So now Beach Bear and Dook found themselves riding along with Bubba McCoy in his produce truck as he took a load of peaches to the Sunshine State.

"Say, I got a joke for you," Dook said.

"Shoot, little buddy!" Bubba enthused.

"Ah, What… what, um, so this morning I saw a duckdoo."

"What's a duckdoo?"

"Quack-Quack!"

Beach Bear groaned at the joke, but Bubba was roaring with laughter and gave Dook a friendly punch in the arm.

"That's a good one! I like you, Dook!"

They had been on the road for a couple of hours now. Bubba estimated eight hours to Jacksonville on the back roads for part of the trip. After a good night's rest, that would still give them three days to get Dook rehearsed up for the opening. Dook knew the music and three days would be plenty of time to get him integrated into the band. Now if Beach Bear could just get rid of his cold. They were only another half hour into the trip when things started to go wrong.

"Uh-Oh," Bubba muttered under his breath as he squinted through the rain soaked windshield.

The comment penetrated the hazy fog of Beach Bear's cold and he sat up in his seat. "What? What uh-oh?"

"This don't look right. Are you sure we took the right turn back there, Dook?"

Dook glanced down at the map spread across his legs. "Uh, yeah! Turn right, right?"

Beach Bear glanced over at the map. With a sigh, he turned it right side up. "Left, Dook. Left. We were supposed to turn left toward Macon. We're going toward Columbus."

"Oh. I never was good with maps."

Bubba laughed, taking it all in stride. "Hey, that's okay, partner. It's all part of the adventure of the road!"

Ordinarily Beach Bear would completely agree. But, he'd had all the adventure he could take for one trip and was eager to get back home. At least he could take comfort in the fact that they were only one hour behind schedule.

Of course, that was before the tire blew.
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Bubba trudged back through the mud to the front of the truck and tapped on the window. Dook leaned across the driver's seat and rolled it down.

"I'm having a little trouble getting the jack in place," he said. "The ground's too soft from the rains. Maybe if one of you could help lift the bumper…"

"Oh! I'll do it!" Dook offered.

"Well, I was thinking of someone a little bigger. And stronger." Seeing Dook's disappointment, Bubba added, "But you can start the truck back up."

Beach Bear groaned, opened the passenger door into the pouring rain and staggered to the back of the truck.

"When I tell you to, pull up on the bumper," Bubba instructed.

Beach Bear gave it all he had, and after much slipping and falling in the mud, they were able to get the jack in place to change the tire. Bubba stood back and surveyed the result.

"Yep. It's stuck," he proclaimed.

"What?"

"It's stuck in the mud. We're gonna need to give it a push out of this hole."

Beach Bear sighed as Bubba went around to talk to Dook. "Now, Dook… when I give a shout, you start 'er up and ease it out of that mud hole. Gentle like, ok?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah! I can do that!"

Bubba returned to the back of the truck and he and Beach Bear positioned themselves, ready to give it a push.

"Okay, Dook…"

Bubba started to remind him to pull out easy, but Dook didn't need any more encouragement. Instantaneously, the wheels began to spin violently, hurling the grey, clay mud everywhere.

"Easy, Dook!" Bubba shouted, as he and Beach Bear put their shoulders into it. As Dook backed off the gas and eased the truck into gear, they were able to push it out of the mud and back onto solid pavement. Bubba shook his head as he looked at the mud covered polar bear.

"Next stop, Stella's," the trucker announced. "And a shower."

As if to emphasize the need, an explosive backfire blew a shower of mud and exhaust soot on both of them. Beach Bear fought off a fit of coughing as he made his way back to the front of the truck. He was seriously considering asking for a raise.

***

Stella's truck stop/diner/motel was one of those establishments they use in Hollywood to stage slasher and UFO abduction movies. It was on a lonely stretch of the back road with hardly any traffic except for lone truckers and late night travelers going to places unknown. It was said that Stella had seen it all in her many years of operating this place, but the sight of a grey, mud soaked fur ball with duffle in hand, startled even her.

"What the…" her gaze traveled over to Bubba, who was standing near by.

"There's a polar bear under all that mud," Bubba explained.

"Well, who knew. Listen honey, the showers are in the back. I'll get you some clean towels."

After rummaging around for towels and soap, she sent Bubba and Beach Bear to clean up while Dook settled into a booth and perused the menu. After ordering eggs and bacon with black coffee, he sat patiently drumming his paws along with the songs on the jukebox, until his newly freshened friends finally slid into the seat across from him.

Dook looked up from his coffee and his jaw dropped in surprise. "Uh. Wow."

"I know, I know," Beach Bear mused. "I scrubbed and scrubbed, but it just wouldn't come out."

"Are…are you going grey, already?"

"No Dook. It's the mud and soot. It's stained my fur."

"'Cuz you look grey."

"I am grey."

"Not white."

"No."

"Not like a polar bear. And you sound funny."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious." Beach Bear was a little testier than usual. "You've made my day."

"Well, listen you two," Bubba said, as he glanced through the menu. "We can keep truckin' through the night and get to Jacksonville in the morning, or we can get a room or two here, get an early start, and make it by mid afternoon. Don't make no never mind to me. I'm leaving it up to you."

Beach Bear suspected that, if Fatz were answering for them, he would want them to travel all night. But, with his cold still nagging at him and his muscles aching from pushing the truck, a soft, warm bed anywhere sounded very good. Besides, he wouldn't be in any shape to rehearse before tomorrow evening, anyway.

"I vote for bed," he snuffled.

"Okay. Stay over it is, then."

The two ordered their dinners and ate heartily of the greasy, but tasty diner fare. As the night grew darker the storm began to fade to a slow shower that made soothing tapping noises on the windows of the diner. Beach Bear found his eyes growing heavier by the minute.

"Okay, so that's one meal and a room for Bubba, right?" Stella had suddenly appeared at the table with notebook and pencil in hand.

"Yep. Just put it on my tab."

"And two meals and two rooms for your friends?" Beach Bear nodded as Stella handed him an invoice.

"Sorry about that, honey. But, I'm going to need that in advance."

The bear and the dog rummaged through their luggage, pooling all of their available money. After hiring Bubba's services, there wasn't much left.

"You're a little short, there, sweetie." Stella was patient, but firm.

"Okay, we'll just go with one room," Beach Bear reluctantly decided.

"Still ten dollars short."

Beach Bear sighed. Picking up his guitar, he nabbed the cap off of Dook's head and plopped it upside down on the table.

"Beatles medley in G, Dook. You take the lead."

*****
Morning came much too early for the travelers. It was the first time they had spent the night in a bed since leaving Galveston, and even the protruding springs and Dook's snoring couldn't keep Beach Bear from enjoying a full night's sleep. They awoke to Bubba pounding on the door, and blinked at the sunlight filtering through the grimy windows. Beach Bear's cold still had a solid hold on him, and his fur still looked like it belonged on a wolf, but the sight of sunlight and the fact that their journey was nearly over put the bear into a much better frame of mind than he was in the night before. They were eagerly piling into Bubba's truck, ready to take the last leg of their journey, when Stella rushed up to them, a paper bag in hand.

"Here. Some sandwiches to take with you."

Beach Bear reluctantly waved them away. "We're fresh out of money, Stella. But, thanks anyway."

"No, no. They're on me. The way you two sang last night… well, it just brought back so many memories." Stella dabbed her eyes, turning away in embarrassment. "Here. Take them!"

Beach Bear accepted the bag, thanking her for her kindness. As they drove out of the parking lot, Dook sniffed around inside.

"Mmmm! Egg salad. And… grilled cheese!"

"That was very generous of her."

Dook closed the bag and set it on the seat beside them. "It… it was 'Unchained Melody' that warmed her up. It always gets to the girls."

Beach Bear smiled as they picked up speed toward the highway and Dook hung his head out of the window. Finally, they were on their way to Jacksonville.

****

"Put 'em back, Rolfe!"

"Facts are facts," Rolfe insisted, somewhat defensively. "If you can't produce a full band in two days, I'm going to be headlining this little event. And, so far, it's not looking good for you."

Fatz nearly had a meltdown when he came into the showroom and found Rolfe moving his props to the center stage. Billy Bob and Mitzi were doing their best to calm their leader, but Rolfe had just about pushed him too far this time.

"Look, you mangy, flea-bitten has-been! This group can out perform you even with two members missing!"

Rolfe shook his head. "It doesn't matter. The contract is for a full five piece band. I count… three."

"Well, maybe you should count again," Billy Bob said, cheerily. Everyone followed his gaze to the back of the room. There, in the doorway, stood Beach Bear with the promised drummer by his side.

"Beach Bear!" Mitzi cheered. "At least, I think it's Beach Bear. Wait, is that Beach Bear?"

"It's me, Mitzi," Beach Bear assured her as he advanced into the room. Leaving Rolfe sputtering, the band ran to greet him.

"I don't know. Doesn't look like Beach Bear," Mitzi hesitated.

"Doesn't sound like Beach Bear," Looney commented.

"Oh, Looney! He's just got a cold," Billy Bob explained. "And, well, his fur is grey because… because…."

"Because I fell in the mud."

"Because he fell in the mud!" Billy Bob finished. "You fell in the mud?"

"Yeah, and… and... he went out in the rain to look at the planes," Dook added.

Beach Bear sighed. "Once more. I went out in the rain because I thought you went out in the rain to look at the planes."

"Yeah, that!"

"Folks, meet Dook LaRue. The best darn drummer I know."

Fatz crossed his arms and gave Dook the once-over. "Are you that good, boy?"

Dook shrugged. "I'm okay. Hey, did you see the Skee-Ball? I'd like to play that."

"It's fun!" Looney chirped.

"Come on, LaRue. Let's see what you can do," Fatz said, trying to get the conversation back on course.

"Okay. But, um, did you know you have to roll the ball? If you throw it, stuff breaks."

"Not Skee-Ball, Dook," Beach Bear explained. "Fatz wants you to play drums for us."

"Oh. Okay. I like drums, too."

The band moved to their places and Dook settled onto the stool, readjusting the drums as if he'd always been on that stage.

"What do you want to play?" he asked, smiling at his new band mates.

Fatz considered. He didn't have time to waffle around. He wanted to challenge the new guy, right away, to see what he was made of. With Dingo's spectacular failure in mind, he made his choice.

"Don't Stop."

"Well. Okay, but what do you want to play?"

"Don't Stop."

"I won't. Got a song in mind?"

"Don't Stop!"

"Gotta start first."

"What a space cadet!" Rolfe laughed.

"Why, thank you," Dook smiled. "But, um… what do you want to play?"

Fatz groaned, and putting his head in his hands, glanced back at Beach Bear. "This boy's gonna drive me crazy, ain't he?"

Beach Bear chuckled. "Probably. But the music will be worth it. Allow me… Dook!"

"Yeah Beach?"

"Fleetwood Mac song: Don't Stop. You take the second verse. Everyone on the chorus and the last verse."

"Got it!"

Fatz set out the opening chords on the piano, gradually increasing the volume. The guitars joined in and Dook's drums began to build the intensity until, with a vibrant crescendo, the instruments crashed into Beach Bear's hoarse, but satisfying, opening verse:

If you wake up and don't want to smile
If it takes just a little while
Open your eyes and look at the day
You'll see things in a different way

Don't stop thinking about tomorrow
Don't stop, it'll soon be here
It'll be better than before
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone.


As his guitar rang out in the interlude, Beach Bear gave his friend an encouraging nod for the second verse, but there was no need. Dook was completely in his element and his mellow voice sang out, loud and clear.

Why not think about times to come
And not about the things that you've done
If your life was bad to you
Just think what tomorrow will do

Don't stop thinking about tomorrow
Don't stop, it'll soon be here
It'll be better than before
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone.


Settling into the instrumental section, Beach Bear let his guitar wail out in the solo as Dook kept the rhythm strong and steady. With a smile, he could see that the whole band was feeling the same excitement and pure joy of creative synchronicity that he was feeling. When it all comes together like this, nothing in the world is better. As the solo passage ended, they all joined with enthusiasm in the last verse.

All I want is to see you smile
If it takes just a little while
I know you don't believe that it's true
I never meant any harm to you.

Don't stop thinking about tomorrow
Don't stop, it'll soon be here
It'll be better than before
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone.

Don't you look back,
Don't you look back.


As the last notes of the song faded away, the band erupted in exuberant shouts of joy and applause.

"Wow!" Mitzi said. "That was awesome!"

Eagerly, they awaited their leader's reaction. Fatz quietly turned to look at Dook, who was smiling at them all.

"Son. Welcome to the band."

Dook nodded. "Oh! Cool! Um...I'm in a band now?"

Fatz gave Beach Bear a puzzled look. "You didn't tell him?"

Beach Bear frowned. "I thought I did. Dook?"

"Yeah, Beach?"

"You remember, I told you about that steady gig?"

"Yeah!"

"This is it."

"Oh!" Dook paused to consider this new bit of information. "Cool! Cuz I bought a new suit for it, and everything."

Fatz shot Beach Bear a confused look. "It's okay," the bear replied. "We're good."

Fatz chuckled. "If you say so, Beach Bear. If you say so."

Throughout the number, Rolfe had been shifting in his seat, obviously disconcerted by the new developments. "Well, Rolfe!" Fatz gloated. "Looks like you're back on the side stage!"

Rolfe jumped up and paced the room. "Okay, you've got your band members," he conceded. "But you'll never be show ready in two days."

"You know," Fatz said, "five minutes ago I would have agreed with you. But now? Did you hear that? That was one heck of an explosion of sound! Huh!"

"It wasn't just an explosion. It was a Rock-afire Explosion!" Mitzi exulted.

The band roared with laughter at the word play.

"Oh, you think that gag's funny, now!" Rolfe complained.

"Yes. Yes we do!" Fatz laughed. "It was a Rock-afire Explosion!"

"Oh, Oh!" Dook interrupted. "You know what? That's a good name for a band!"

There was a moment's silence before the laughter erupted again. Dook shook his head, his ears twitching in confusion.

"Well, it is!"

And, he was right.

The End

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Patrick Boots CEC

If someone could voice these, we got skits for the next 10 Years! great stories!!
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RetroGirl
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Aww. Thanks!
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