"We should go back," Shannie insisted.
"Shannie's right," I added.
With an evil smile - in which only a corner of his lips rose - Steve Lucas mocked, "What are you worried about? Your new girl friend being stolen?"
"Do me a favor," Shannie said. "Tonight, when you go home, sometime after you're finished brushing your teeth and before you get into bed."
"Yes?" he asked.
"Drop dead!"
For all Shannie's planning, the parade was anti-climatic. Except for near-stumble on Shannie's part - she wasn't used to Diane's high heals -our act went off without a hitch. Shannie received the attention she was seeking: a first prize ribbon. A picture of Ms. Dead America 1986, waving to her 'adoring fans' graced the front page of Beyford's weekly rag.
Controversy remains whether we were ratted out or if Steve Lucas underestimated his father's power of observation. To this day, Steve Lucas claims Marcy finked, retaliation for Steve walking in on her while she was playing with her 'toy.' Shannie and I disagree. Mr. Lucas wasn't the lamebrain Steve asserted. "It's one thing missing a paperweight, it's another missing a coffin," Shannie commented.
"Shit! We've been had," Shannie cried noticing a light on inside Fernwood's maintenance shed.
"What are you talking about?" Count asked.
"I turned the light off." She pounded the dashboard. "I knew we should have locked the door!"
"You left the light on," Steve Lucas said.
"No! I didn't! I shut it off," Shannie said.
"Maybe you forgot," I said. Shannie scowled.
You know I turned off the freaking light!" Shannie responded from my lap. Urgency filled the cab of the old powder fairy blue truck. We knew Shannie was right.
"Don't panic," Count said breaking the silence. "Let's do what we have to do, and get the old lady back to the funeral parlor."
Shannie bolted off my lap and raced to the shed's door. "Geezus Pete! What one of you Morons want to tell me we locked the door?" she held the locked padlock in her hand.
"Oh fuck," Steve Lucas said before farting.
"Maybe it was just my old man," Count started.
"Maybe he heard us and wanted to make sure everything was okay."
"You better hope not," Shannie cried. "You know he would notice Mrs. Johnson."
"Who else could it be?" Count asked. Shannie and I shrugged; Steve Lucas farted again.