The Ed Who Played with Fire

Eds Don't Cry

The door barely gave a creak as it was pushed open and locked from within. The disco ball key chain caught a flicker from the street lamp. "Let's see what Pipsqueak has for me," Eddy's brother wondered with a dry laugh. He spun the key around his finger and placed it back in his jacket pocket. Looking down, he could see three pairs of shoes lined up by the door. One pair was Eddy's. Another pair was too big and another pair was too small. "I'm getting paid back with interest!"

Eddy's brother smirked with pride in his talent for con artistry. "I gave that little horndog his fix. He agreed to let me come get anything I want in my room, but he didn't say it had to be mine... yet." Eddy's brother stealthily crept down the hall. He had been out of the house for years, but he had no trouble getting around the place in the dark. Hearing the sound of snoring coming from Eddy's room, Eddy's brother prepared to collect. "I am the man with the scam. Little Eddy will never know all my tricks!"

Sitting for several silent minutes outside Eddy's door, Eddy's brother listened. When he was certain that everyone inside was asleep, he opened the door a crack and peered in. His eyes were accustomed to the darkness. Like a jungle cat in search of prey, Eddy's brother slipped through the door. On top of Eddy's dresser was an array of items. Some were of particular interest, such as a Barry White concert ad from 1974, some ticket stubs, and a Tom Jones tour program, signed by "the Voice" himself. Some things were mundane, like the lighter with "Fuck Communism" written on the side and the pair of knock-off sunglasses. Other things were just strange, like the bottle cap with a squiggly smile drawn on it. After surveying the collection, Eddy's brother shrugged and swept all the items into an empty pocket. "Finders keepers."

He clicked on the lighter and looked across the floor for anything else that looked worthwhile. He stepped carefully over Ed, who was grunting and twitching in his sleep. In Ed's head, a war between the stench-mutants and the zombies was being fought, so Eddy's brother slipped past, unnoticed. Seeing that Ed's overnight bag was a gym bag with a few holes and mysterious stains on it, Eddy's brother did not investigate further. "Goddamn, this one's useless," Eddy's brother muttered, giving Ed's head a tap with his foot. Ed growled and clawed with his hands, then rolled onto his side and began to drool.

Eddy's brother made a grab for Double D's bag. Inside, clothes were neatly folded atop the geometry textbook, and the carefully bagged and labeled jawbreaker was tucked into a pocket. What? No loot? Eddy's brother was growing frustrated. He then removed a black case labeled "Medical Supplies." There was a box of sticky-aid bandages, a splint, gauze, little strips of paper. There were also syringes and a bottle of fluid labeled "Rx." Ka-ching! Now we're talkin', thought Eddy's brother, scooping the syringes into his pocket.

Satisfied with his swag, Eddy's brother turned to leave, but looked down to see Double D's face, not peacefully asleep as moments before, but eyes wide as dinner plates. Eddy's brother stopped; he would have recognized those feminine features anywhere. Bending down, Eddy's brother placed a hand firmly over Double D's mouth. With the other, Eddy's brother yanked Double D out of the sleeping bag. Double D simply hung in Eddy's brother's grasp, frozen in terror. "Hello, sweetheart," Eddy's brother purred.

Not even bothering to check on Eddy, who was mumbling in his sleep, Eddy's brother tucked Double D under his arm like a football. Finders keepers! Now that he had gotten everything he wanted, Eddy's brother stalked down the hall to his den. Once inside, Eddy's brother shut the door and applied a combination lock.

Calmly, Eddy's brother placed Double D feet first onto the floor. Before Eddy's brother could remove his collection of pilfered goodies from his jacket pockets, Double D zipped back to the locked door and fought to open the door all in vain. Looking at the lock, Double D murmured, "Four places. Zero to 9, that's ten possible digits per place. Ten to the power of four is 10,000 possible sequences! It would take hours to deduce the correct one."