(Author's Note: I've taken a slight liberty with timelines in this fanfic... as I see it, the Goofy Movie took place in Max's junior high years, so all time references will be made as such. Also, the fact that PJ's girlfriend was simply credited as "Beret Girl" in the credits ticked me off, so I gave her a name. Enjoy ... bask in the Bradleyness!)

Horseshoes - Part One
By Ang D.

The sound of roaring engines and a cheering crowd filled their ears as they raced, neck and neck, side by side, each one gunning their accelerator for all it was worth. The dust poured thick around them, and the tension was building between the two drivers - until one of them rammed directly into the other, slamming him into the sideboards of the racetrack.

"I've got you now, man! Ha-HA!"

"I seriously doubt that, Peej." Max deftly flickered his fingers across the control pad of his Vidtendo 64 and rammed PJ back.

"WHAT?" He squawked, staring in awe as his power meter repleted and his car veered off the track in flames. "Aw MAN! That's the fifth time this morning, Max!!"

"He-heeeey, Maximillian is the champi-onnnnn, the hot tam-a-leeee...." Bobby grinned, slapping his roomate on the back. "Owoooooo!" His gaze strayed to the trophy sitting in the place of honor on Max's desk, the only object not covered in cookie crumbs or stray socks. "And I mean that in duplicate, dude."

"Yeah - we're a shoe-in for the qualifying rounds this year, guys."

"Especially due to the occurence resulting in the ousting of His Bradleyness." PJ said coolly.

"Save the bohemian rhapsody for the Bean Scene, Peej." Max patted his best-friend on the shoulder. "You're scaring people."

PJ shrugged. "Hey, whatever ya say, man." He looked over at the clock and frowned. "Hey, Max, I gotta go pick up some supplies for the new semester, and I was thinkin' of droppin' by that new coffee joint. You comin'?"

Max shook his head. "I've...got a little something I gotta take care of, Peej, you go ahead."

"Bobby?"

Bobby looked up from the can of Easy Cheese he was shaking and grinned. "Totally with you, dude. I saw this bodaciously hot babe there the other day workin' the counter.... we're talking double chickaccino! Hold the biscott-ay..."

Max shook his head with a chuckle as his friends headed out the door. As soon as he could no longer hear them in the corridor, he picked up the phone, dialing a number that flew through his fingers with less familiarity than it used to.

"Hello?"

He bit his lip, wincing, then managed to choke out, "Roxanne? ...."

"Who is this?"

She FORGOT me? .... "It's uh.... Max."

"Max!" He could almost hear her smile and sighed in relief. "I saw you on tv! That was totally awesome! .... Max, why didn't you ever call me?"

"Well, I ... Since you headed off to that other college in Calisota, I wasn't so sure you'd want to hear from me." He chuckled weakly.

"Oh, no." Roxanne reassured him. "I'd love to see you sometime!"

Max grinned. "Great! Wanna maybe ---"

"Go to that new cafe sometime?"

"Yeah, and then maybe afterwards ---"

"See a movie?"

He laughed. "Exactly! How does --"

"Day after tomorrow sound? Great." She giggled. "Pick me up at one?"

"Okay! See you then!"

"Yep!"

"And..... Roxanne?"

"Yeah, Max?"

He sighed. "I missed you." There was a pause on the other end of the line, and he flinched.

"Same here. ... Bye, Max."

"Bye..." He hung up the phone and sighed, collapsing backwards onto his bed. "Wow." She's still got that same voice....

"Hey, Maxie!!" Goofy called out exuberantly from the hallway. "Wanna go see Sylvia with me?"

Max sat up, fueled with the energy of his upcoming date. Hey, I can take a day with my Dad. I have a date with Roxanne. I am INVINCIBLE! Nothing can stop me now. "Sure!" He grinned. "Lemme get my Discman..."

"Aw, I was hopin' we could listen to th' old eight-track." Goofy pouted. "Jest installed it yesterday, yah know."

Max forced a smile. "Eight ... track. Right, dad, cool. That's just groovy...."

"I thought you'd like it!" Goofy hugged his son fiercely. "C'mon, I dunno what time she gets outta work an' I wanna surprise her."

Max smiled again, genuinely this time. "That's cool, Dad. ... Why's she working in the summer, again?"

"They got these seminole things the college has in th' summer, an' some of em use th' library." Goofy shrugged. "Least, that's what she said."

"Seminar, dad?"

"Ah thought they were some kinda indian."

Max wiped a hand over his eyes, chuckling as he followed his father outside to the car.

"Oh Gooooooofyyyyyy!" Peg called from across the fence, waving one of Pistol's t-shirts at them. "Yooohooooo!"

"A-hyuck! Hiya, Peg!" Goofy called, waving back. "Doin' th' laundry?"

"Oh, I swear, Pistol goes through MORE shirts being on the Little League team than anyone I ever--" She stopped short, then hollered towards the house. "PETERRRR!!!! TURN THAT TV OFF AND GET OUT HERE! MOW THIS LAWN BEFORE THE CRAB GRASS BITES MY ANKLES OFF!"

"YES MY LITTLE CHICKEN LIVER..." Pete hollered back simperingly.

"NOW, MUDPIE!" She bellowed, grinning sweetly. "So where are you boys off to?"

"College." Max smiled. "Dad's gonna go see Miss Marpole."

"Ohhhh-hohohoh." Peg giggled. "You simply MUST bring her over for a cookout one of these days!"

"Gawrsh, Peg, that's mighty thoughtful of ya! I'm sure ya'd love Sylvia, you two'd hit it right off." He smiled, ushering Max towards the car. "We gotta go if we're gonna catch her though. See ya later!"

Max chuckled as his father pushed him towards his seat in the Caravan, waving to Peg as she flapped one of Pete's shirts at them in farewell. "Now, Dad, take the right exit this time, okay? It's just West Jefferson, there's no other exit!!!"

"Right, West Jefferson. We ended up clear in th' capital last time! A-hyuck." Goofy nodded, pulling onto the freeway. "Oooohhhh, I gotta loverly bunch o' coconuts..." He sang briefly.

"Dad. Don't .... sing." Max said flatly, turning on the radio. Roxanne or no Roxanne, this is gonna be a long drive.

Sylvia Marpole sighed as she closed the file folder the dean had given her. "Look, I'm sorry, but I don't know what you expect me to do."

Dean Ponder frowned. "You know more local people than I do. The boy's got no options. He's paid through his senior year, thankfully, but it doesn't cover dorm occupation, doesn't cover the meal plan ... he's got to find some way to fund himself. You're the librarian, you've got resources, connections... you're a wealth of information!"

"Look, I'm sorry, Dean, but there's no way I can find someone! Especially after last semester! Things weren't that bright to begin with."

"You're right. Nobody short of a total GOOF would help us out on this --"

Suddenly, from outside, there came the sound of a loud crash, followed by a distinct, unmistakable screech.

"YAAAAAAAAAAA-HOOHOOHOOHOOOOEY...."

Sylvia nibbled at one fingernail as she looked from the door to the dean to the folder. "Please don't tell me you're thinking of asking him."

"It's a possibility. The boy shares interests."

"Dean, are you BLIND? You saw what happened, and I doubt it would go over well! In fact --"

"Ohhh Syyyyyylviaaaaaaaa!" Goofy warbled, skidding into the library on a skateboard, which he actually managed to stop and kick up expertly. He held out his hand as if to catch it, but the board sailed up into the air and hit Dean Ponder on the toe. "Oopsie."

"Where did you find this board?"

"Outside. Nearly broke muh neck trippin' on it." He smiled sheepishly as Max entered.

"Dad, that skateboard looked a lot like --" He stopped short and grinned. "Hi, Dean Ponder..."

The Dean smiled. "Hello, Max. Sylvia and I were just talking about something we thought your father might take an interest in..."

Sylvia quickly stood, stepping between Max and the Dean. "Max ... you know, they added a small zipper to the halfpipe on the campus.... you might wanna go check it out."

Max's eyes lit up. "Suh-WEET!" He grinned. "I'll see ya back here, Dad! Bye!" With that, he waved a quick farewell to the dean and zipped out of the library.

"Sylvia..." Goofy said confidentially, "maybe it's th' college de-gree talkin' here, but wasn't that a sure-fire excuse tah get Maxie outta here?"

Sylvia smiled nervously. "You're a father, there's no way I can get anything like that past you. Yes. One of our students ran into some trouble - or should I say his family did - and he's got no place to stay until school starts back up, and no dorm certainty, no steady source of income. We were trying to --"

"Find someone who could help?" Goofy smiled. "I'll do it!"

The dean ran his finger along one of the red lines on the black skateboard in his hands. "You're sure?"

"Positive. Ah always do muh part ta help." He smiled at Sylvia.

"Very well then, Goofy." Sylvia picked up the manila folder at her side and opened it. "The young man's going into his senior year, and he's paid through acedemically, but his father ran into some tax troubles in the Canine Islands, and the family's currently very close to broke."

"Gawrsh." He whispered, frowning. "I wouldn't wish that on muh worst enemy."

"It is horrible. But you don't understand. Those tax troubles had to do with evasion, his father was breaking some serious laws." Sylvia's eyes widened slightly. "I guess it runs in the family." She murmured.

"What?"

"Oh... nothing, I guess. It's just that the boy's been known to break a few campus rules himself, is all. Nothing major - his grades are honest and rather good, it's just that some of the extracurriculars..."

Goofy nodded. "Ya mean he hangs out with some bad eggs?"

"Not anymore, thankfully, but I'm not sure about how he's going to act this year. Will you still do it?"

"Shore!" He smiled. "Of course! Isn't anythin' like spendin' time with the Goof family to brighten up th' old spirit!"

Dean Ponder cleared his throat. "We'll see. I'll go get him." He walked over to the other end of the library, where a figure sat hunched over a book, headphones over his ears and a Discman at his side. The Dean tapped him on the shoulder, then frowned and turned off the CD player. The young man seemed to tense, almost angrily, then relaxed very slowly, letting out a sigh that both observers could hear on the other side of the massive room.

"Kid's takin' it tough." Goofy frowned.

"Not as tough as you'd think." Sylvia muttered, as the Dean, inaudible, explained the situation to the boy seated at the table. His mouth ceased to move, and he regarded the figure tensely.

"Uh oh." Sylvia whispered.

"WHAT?!!?!?!?!" The boy roared, springing from his chair with such vehemence that it knocked over. He dashed the book he'd been reading angrily to the ground, taking the Discman along with it in an all-out tantrum. "You've GOT to be MESSING with me!!!!!"

Goofy's eyes widened. "Sylvia...." He said quietly, "you didn't tell me it was gonna be him!"

"Look..." The Dean stuttered, flailing his arms about as the Senior turned in a rage, his shoulders hunched, his thick, dark eyebrows so low on his countenance that his eyes nearly disappeared. "Mr. Upp--"

"YOU NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT HAVING TO DEAL WITH THOSE --- THOSE--- FREAKS!!!" Bradley Uppercrust III screeched at the top of his lungs. "I would sooner take up residence in the BOILER ROOM than accept their so-called gesture of KINDNESS!" He paused in his tirade as he caught sight of Goofy, standing beside Miss Marpole, not quite knowing what to make of it all. Bradley's temper simmered, and he cleared his throat, straightening the collar of his shirt before striding over to them. "Mr. Goof..." He said with as much pleasantry and as sincere a smile as he could muster. "Been a while."

"Shore has." Goofy said plainly. "Been learnin' much?"

More than you'd believe, you old .... "Yeah, actually." The smile went from terse sincerity to flat-out false cameraderie. "Where's Max?"

"He's outside." Sylvia volunteered. "Let's get your things, hm? I'll walk you over to the Gamma House."

Bradley cast a look at the door as if it were Max himself, then sighed. "Hey, whatever." He said, masking his resignation with nonchalance. I've never had grounds to say it before, but . . . . Life SUCKS.

Max was in the middle of a flip when he saw the van pull up to the curb beside the boarding court. He coasted slowly down to the center of the halfpipe and kicked up his board, catching it and slinging it over one shoulder. "Hey, Dad." He smiled. "Ready to go?"

Goofy coughed. "Well, not yet, son. I got somethin' else ta take care of, stuff ta pick up."

"What, more of that 70s junk Sylvia's been loaning you?" Max chuckled.

"It isn't junk." He muttered, pulling onto Frat Row. "But, no. There's a ... student who needs lodgin' fer th' summer, an' Sylvia talked me into lettin' him stay with us."

"Oh. That's cool." Max smiled. "Wonder if he boards, we could use a fourth on Team 99..."

"Ya might say he does." Goofy shrugged, as Max caught sight of the skateboard he'd seen in the library, sitting on the floor of the car.

"Hey - this looks like a Gamma board." Max frowned. "Tank?"

"He's a nice enough feller, that Tank... but no." Goofy shook his head as he parked by the walkway to the Gamma House, where a stack of boxes and duffel bags was already piled up on the curb. "I guess he's ready. .... Now, Max." Goofy turned to his son as he let the car engine idle. "Ah know that ya might not like sharin' our home with someone else, but th' thing ya gotta understand - this is what Sylvia told me, see - is that he's havin' a tough time with family an' stuff, so..."

"I understand, Dad." Max nodded. "You always did teach me to be accepting of ---"

Just then, the door of the Gamma House was wrenched open, and Tank's immense shadow blotted it out. "An' STAY out, Baby!" He hollered, giving Bradley the drop-kick. He skidded to a halt right in front of the passenger side window.

Max frowned. "Who....?"

Goofy winced. Ah can't look......

Slowly, Bradley grabbed ahold of the car's open windowsill and pulled himself up with a groan, wincing. As he opened his eyes, he found he was staring straight at Max, who looked a little too stunned to speak.

"YOU!!" Max hollered at last, shoving Bradley roughly back onto the sidewalk. "How DARE you come crawling to US!!!! You stinking --"

"MAX!" Goofy snapped, taking his son by the shoulder. "Remember. ... "

Bradley picked himself up off the ground once more with a sigh that was part snort. "I didn't exactly choose the outcome either, Freshman."

"That's Sophomore to you!" Max spat. "And you better not try anything!"

Bradley put on his biggest grin."I wouldn't dreeeeam of it." He replied through his teeth, slinging his backpack into the far backseat of the van and jumping in after it.

"Ahem." Goofy said pointedly, gesturing to the pile of boxes and belongings on the lawn. "You brought it. You load it, son."

Bradley's blue-grey eyes darkened as he looked from Goofy to the baggage. "What.... did you say?" WHAT did he call me??

"He said," Max snapped coldly, "that Little Rich Boy has to pull his own weight. And it looks like there's a lot of it, so you'd better get started." As Bradley struggled with a particularly awkward box, Max turned to his father. "Can we go to the Bean Scene before we leave? I wanna say hi to Snaps ... and ditch this SICK feeling in the pit of my stomach."

"No, we ain't got time. .....Now, Maxie. I ain't takin' no guff from Mr. Uppercrust and neither will you. It's jest a roof over his head for a couple'a months is all. He'll hafta find hisself a job, so he won't be botherin' you boys none."

"He'd better not --" Max cut himself off as Bradley heaved a duffel bag into the trunk with an amazing amount of vehemence. "The guys, Dad!!! What the heck am I gonna tell the guys?"

"Well, gee, I dunno." Goofy shrugged. "Ya almost ready ta hit th' open road, Bradley?" He directed a smile over the top of the van.

"Dad? ... You're being civil." Max observed.

"Muh mom always said ya should kill 'em with kindness, Maxie, an' that's jest whut I intend ta do." With that, he buckled himself back in and drummed his fingers patiently on the steering wheel as Bradley loaded the last of the boxes into the van and climbed sullenly into the far backseat of the van. "Welcome aboard. Fasten yer seatbelt."

Bradley folded his arms and stayed put. I don't have to do a thing you say!

"Very well, then, if ya end up with scrambled brains it ain't yer fault." Goofy shrugged amiably, as Max turned out of Bradley's sight and snickered.

"Hey Dad." He handed his father an 8-track cartridge. "Let's put in some music."

"Ah thought ya didn't..." Max waved his hand at his father to shush him, and he took the cartridge, smiling. "Right! Partridge Family it is!"

Max glanced in the rearview just in time to see Bradley wince, and grinned. For once - I LOVE these road trips! He couldn't help laughing as his father tore out of his parking space and careened down the main drag of the campus and out to the main road, leaving their unwelcome guest flailing about and fumbling for his seatbelt.

"You'll get th' upstairs guest room, next to mine." Goofy explained, turning onto the highway. "Ya kin set it up however y'want, it's your room."

Bradley made a grunt of a reply, then fished his Discman out of his bag. One of the batteries had fallen out when he'd swiped it onto the floor of the library, and he didn't seem to have any replacements. Seething, he scrunched down in his seat and put his hands over his ears. I think I'll just lock the door behind myself and never deal with them EVER....

The trip was made in silence, save for the strains of the Partridge Family issuing from the 8-track.

"Dad?" Max smiled. "Aren't you gonna sing?"

"Don't feel like it." He replied, glancing in the rear-view mirror. "So ... mind if I ask ya a question?"

"Sure." Max shrugged.

"Not you, Maxie."

Bradley looked up, confused. What's he trying to pull out of me, here? "Hm?"

"If yuh got ousted from th' Gammas, why were ya still stayin' there?"

"Because I was paid through on lodging till the end of the year, and they don't allow switches that late in the semester. THAT's why." Bradley replied testily, folding his arms.

"Oh. Just wond'rin'."

"Sure." He muttered under his breath, leaning his head against the window as Goofy turned his eyes back from the rear-view and onto the road. The 8-track had thankfully come to an end, or jammed - whichever the case might have been, at least it was quiet, and Bradley closed his eyes with an exhausted sigh. They woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that of all things. ... He thought bitterly, as he nodded off into a light sleep, lulled by the sound of the tires on the road.

"We're heeeeere." Goofy pulled into the driveway with a grin, then looked over towards the backseat.

"He's asleep, Dad." Max snorted. "Didn't you wonder why we weren't hearing any sardonic comments? .... Poor Little Rich Boy probably tired himself out from lifting his own boxes, hah."

"Now, Max..."

"Dad! How can you Now, Max me??? You KNOW what he did to us! You know how he tried to keep the team from winning!" Max paused, then added the thing that was sure to convince his father that he was in the right. "He tried to keep us apart, Dad."

Goofy frowned, getting out of the van and looking through the window at the sleeping ex-rival in the backseat of his car. "Well.... Ya got some good points, there, Maxie. And I don't blame ya fer bein' sore. But...." He heaved a sigh. "Ah still don't understand some things, Max."

"What do you mean?"

"He looks a lot more ... tolerable ... that way." Goofy gestured to the sleeping form with a half-smile.

"Dad, homicidal maniacs look sweet when they're asleep. But you watch, he's gonna wake up and make a fuss because he drooled all over his sweater. ... I bet he drools. Maybe I should set up a camera in his room and sell the videos as blackmail. 'Bradley Uppercrust III: Embarrassing Drooly Footage'. Yeah." Max grinned.

"But hey - what if he does the same thing and finds Old Stuffed Bear, huh?" Goofy smirked.

"Daaaaaaaaaad!" Max thwacked his father on the arm. "No WAY, I do not sleep with a dumb old stuffed bear."

"Whatever you say, Maxie." Goofy allowed himself a smile as he slid open the back door of the van and leant over, tapping Bradley on the shoulder. "Bradley." He said quietly, smiling. "We're here."

Bradley rubbed at his eyes with a number of sleepy, disoriented sounds. "Huh? Wha? Mmph. ...." He blinked, then let out a screech as his surroundings came into focus. "AAAH!" And here I thought it was all some nightmare!! Swiftly, he regained his cool. "Ah. Mr. Goof. You startled me."

"Obviously, a-hyuck." He smiled. "C'mon, I'll show ya to yer room." With that, he headed up the driveway to the porch. "Maxie ... you wanna go give our neighbors a shout, huh?"

"You mean a warning." He muttered. "Yeah, Dad, I think I will." He directed a smirk in Bradley's direction, as he tried to pull a plastic storage bin out of the van. It slipped from his hands and fell, its contents spilling out onto the blacktop. "Have fun... Braaaad."

Brad grinned back at him, malice flashing in his eyes as he gathered up the fallen articles. "Will do .... Maxie."

Goofy sighed as he unlocked the front door. "C'mon in. Up th' stairs an' to th' right... second door. I'll let ya get it done yerself."

Bradley practically flew up the stairs and into the designated guest room, flinging his backpack and the storage bin onto the bed angrily, then slamming the door behind him. "Trapped in a house of GOOFS!" He shrieked, pounding at his pillow with almost inhuman vehemence. "If I can't make MY life normal ... then I'll make theirs --"

"Hel-LO?" Goofy knocked on the door. "You've still got bags down here."

"Yeah? Hire a valet."

"Bradley, you know we discussed this."

"We didn't discuss ANYTHING!" He hollered back. "And I'll get to it when I FEEL like it, got that?Just go do whatever it is you freaks do in your spare time!"

"Bradley - it ain't muh fault yer here." Goofy ventured.

"Well it isn't MINE EITHER!!! So just SHUT UP!!!!" He hollered, throwing a pillow at the door.

"Son, listen --"

"AND I AM NOT YOUR SON!!!!!! I would KILL myself if I were even REMOTELY related to you OR your son!!!" Bradley erupted, seething. "So just LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!"

Goofy stood there in front of the closed door, frowning. Max's words from just a month earlier echoed in his head. "Get your own life!" He winced. "Okay, Bradley, but ya gotta come down fer dinner sooner or later. .... Maybe if we're lucky, you'll find yer focus before then." He said pointedly, then started to head down the stairs. As he started down, his foot caught on a sweater that had fallen out of Bradley's bag, and he tripped, tumbling head over feet down the staircase.

Bradley smiled at the sound of Goofy's hollering and started to unpack his bag, muttering pseudo-obscenities to himself. I don't know how much of this I can stand, but if I take them down with me, at least it'll be halfway worth it. He paused. "I'm dizzy from your downward spiiiralll..." Bradley flinched at the memory. He'd show them all that Bradley Uppercrust III was not one to be mocked - especially when he was down on his luck and stuck in the epitomy of all nightmares.

"Hey, Max!" PJ smiled, waving to him from the far side of the backyard. "Wanna come help me fix my bike? Chainsaw attacked my front tire the other day. Stupid mutt."

Max looked over at the remains of the tire on the grass. "Ugh, tough luck, Peej. Lucky you keep a spare."

"Tell me about it." He sighed, handing Max the fresh tire. "So how was your trip over to State?"

Max shrugged, delaying the inevitable. "They put in a zipper pipe."

"COOOOOOL!" PJ grinned. "Wow, Bobby's gonna LOVE that! ... Anything else new? Did they have booklists yet?"

"Peej, school just got out two weeks ago, for cryin' out loud." Max laughed, helping him put the new tire back on the bike. "But, yeah, there were some new developments." He cleared his throat.

"You got that look, man. What's up? ..... I saw some stuff in the van a second ago. Sylvia movin' in?"

"I wish it were that cool, Peej."

PJ set down his socket wrench. "Huh?"

Max sighed heavily, then muttered, "We have a houseguest for the summer."

"Oh. I thought you said Sylvia wasn't moving in."

"It isn't Sylvia, PJ!!!!" Max spluttered. "It's.... well. First let me say it wasn't MY decision."

PJ frowned. "Your dad? .... I hear ya, man. Who is it?"

"Well..."

"Max!" Goofy called over the fence. "You'd better come help me set th' table.... Mr. Uppercrust isn't exactly being cooperative! .... Oh. Hiya, PJ..." He smiled.

"WHAT?" PJ blurted. "BRADLEY UPPERCRUST THE THIRD is staying at YOUR house, Max?!!?"

He kicked at the grass, feeling his face start to flush. "Yeah..."

"WHY, man?"

"His dad's broke and he's homeless." Max smiled maliciously.

"MaxiMILLian, that is NOT what Sylvia said!!" Goofy scolded him. "She said that his dad ran into some trouble an' he jest needs a place fer th' summer an' a job." He paused. "An' after dinner, I'm'a gonna go ask Pete if Bradley kin work at th' lot."

PJ snickered. "Bradley? Work with my Pop? ... Aw, that's funny. You do that, Mr. G." He winked at Max, who stifled a laugh of his own.

"There ain't nuthin' wrong with workin' on a used car lot." Goofy chided them obliviously, as he headed for the front door of Pete's house. "You go set th' table, Maxie."

"Okay. I don't suppose you wanna come, Peej." Max sighed, glancing over the fence to see Bradley taking the last of his things out of the van. "We'll head over in a second, once Mr. Underbite is back in his room."

"Underbite, that's a good one, Max." PJ snickered. "Where'd ya hear that?"

"Snaps."

"Oh, my little Java Bean." PJ smiled. "She's awesome, isn't she?"

"Yeah, Peej, she's pretty cool, but not as cool as Roxanne."

"Roxanne? You seein' her again, man?"

Max grinned as they headed into the house. "Yep! We're goin' to the movies day after tomorrow. At least I can get out of the house and away from that... that... " He growled. "I can't even finish my sentances, I'm so mad."

"No mere utterance can express the deep and sombre revulsionary hatred one can harbor in the darkest depths of the heart for such a callous and despicable individual." PJ said, placing a hand poetically to his chest.

"Say what?"

"I hate him too, man."

Max laughed as they headed into the kitchen, only to see a pair of khaki pants sticking out from behind the open refrigerator door. "Hey Brad." Max said sourly. "We're eating soon."

Bradley didn't even bother looking over his shoulder at Max as he stood, kicking the door closed with one foot and carrying a plate of something and a brown bottle of root beer up the stairs. "You are. I'm eating now, Sophomore. Live with it."

Max opened his mouth to say something, but PJ tapped his shoulder as Bradley disappeared around the corner. "Save it, Max, he isn't worth your breath."

"Good point, Peej. Thanks." With that, Max delved into the refrigerator. "You stayin' for dinner?"

"Naw, mom's makin' that chicken casserole stuff with the soup." PJ replied. "I love that."

"PJ..." Max stuck his head up over the door. "You love any food, man."

"Hey! Not any food." PJ said defensively. "I hate asparagus."

"Oh, pfft. Asparagus. Yeah, you hate one thing, Peej, I stand corrected." Max chuckled. "What th'--- Aw man!"

"What?"

"He took the leftover potato salad! We were gonna have that with the sandwiches."

"You have sandwiches for dinner?"

"Shopping day tomorrow." Max shrugged. "I happen to like sandwiches. But I like them better with my POTATO SALAD!!!" He hollered towards the ceiling. "So, I'll see you tomorrow, huh Peej?"

"Yeah, probably.... what time you wanna meet at the park, Max?" PJ poked his nose into the fridge curiously.

"I dunno." He shrugged. "Ten?"

"Max, I'm stayin' up late tonight to watch that special broadcast wrestlin' match on Pay Per View with Pistol and my dad. I'd say more like... two."

"Get OUT!" Max grinned. "The one with the Manassas Mauler and the Boulder?"

PJ nodded proudly. "Yup."

"Aw, man, I hate you." Max laughed. "Go eat your casserole."

PJ glared. "FINE, then." He snapped mockingly. "I was gonna tape it for you."

"Really, Peej? Whoa, THANKS!" Max grinned, slapping his pal on the back. "Thanks a quadzillion!"

"Hey, no problem, man." PJ shrugged. "I just need a blank tape."

"Blank --- awwwwwwww CRUD!"

"What?"

"Dad keeps all our spare stuff in the... guest room." Max growled.

"TerRIFfic." PJ rolled his eyes, as Max started out of the room. "Guess ya might as well, huh?"

Max nodded, then headed upstairs, pounding on Bradley's door. "Oh Braaaaaaaaaaaaddyyyy...."

"What IS it, Sophomore?" He snapped, his mouth partially full.

"I need something out of the closet."

He swallowed loudly. "Sorry. I don't want my room contaminated by GOOF germs. ... By the way, your old man may not be the smartest amoeba in the world, but he makes good potato salad."

"Amoeba?" Max snorted. He called my dad an AMOEBA. Okay, so there's times I'd agree, but this is DIFFERENT.... "Ok, Bradley Stuffed Crust, that DOES it." He growled, kicking at the door so savagely that it swung open. "I'm getting it mySELF." He shoved open the closet doors and began rummaging, until he found the tape he was looking for. "Hey Peej, CATCH." He tossed the tape out the door, where it skidded across the carpet and landed at PJ's feet.

"So, you brought the Large One with you as backup, eh?" Bradley smirked. "Didn't think you could handle breaking into a man's room by yourself?"

"You're no man." Max growled.

"Excuse me?" Bradley snorted. "I'm more of a man than you'd ever DREAM of being, Sophomore." He paused, then held up an old, tattered album. "After all -- real men don't go to Lester's Possum Park."

Max whipped the book out of Bradley's hands. Sure enough, in the back pages, crammed to fit, were pictures of him and his father at Lester's Possum Park, at least five years ago. "Where did you find this? You have NO right to our personal property!!"

Bradley shrugged. "It was here, in my room, so that would technically make it myyyy personal property, wouldn't it? Oh, wait till the rest of the Spooner Staters see this one on the bulletin boards... Know where there's a cheap copy service around here, Maxie?"

"I could tell the whole student body you drool in your sleep."

Bradley looked nonplussed. "And I could tell the whole student body that your father just has that relationship with the librarian to keep your grades up.... IF you know what I mean."

Max stared at Bradley in utter disgust. He can mess with me all he wants, but if he messes with my Dad, and SYLVIA to boot.... "You're SICK." He snarled, slapping Bradley across the face as hard as he could.

Bradley touched a finger to the corner of his mouth and sneered. "Why, you..." He murmured angrily, then punched Max clear in the jaw. He reeled back a few paces, then recovered and lunged at Bradley.

"Aw man." PJ frowned, slinking off down the stairs with the blank tape to find Goofy standing by the refrigerator, fishing out a cutting board. "Mr. G!!!! You better get upstairs!"

"Whut's goin' on, PJ?"

"Max and Bradley...."

"Say n'more, son. Go get yer pop...." With that, Goofy rolled up his sleeves and stormed up the stairs, heart-covered apron and all. He rounded the corner to find the two boys going after each other like a pair of wild animals, taking any shot they could get. "MAX!" He yelped.

"Not NOW, Dad." Max managed to blurt before kicking Bradley in the shin.

Goofy frowned, then adapted as stern a look as a worried father could muster. "BRADLEY!"

"SHUT UP!!!!" He snarled, grabbing hold of Max' ears and attempting to tie them around his head.

The dogfight came to a slow halt as the level of light in the room seemed to diminish, blocked out by a very large shadow. Max was the first to stop fighting, still keeping his hold on Bradley's wrist. Bradley smacked Max's hand aside, then looked at the large pair of feet in the doorway. His gaze traveled upwards, and he gulped as discreetly as he could, looking at the newcomer through one eye, the other squeezed shut and beginning to turn black.

"What th' cramfrattin fritterfrash is goin' ON here?" Pete barked, storming into the room and hauling the two boys apart by their collars. Even Bradley dangled a couple of inches above the floor.

"Mr. P, he called Dad an amoeba." Max snarled, rubbing at his arm.

"He invaded my privacy, he asked for it!" Bradley snapped. Pete shot him a glare. "Sir."

Behind Goofy, PJ stifled a snicker.

"Now, look, I don't want no employee o' mine showin' up ta sell honest cars with a black eye an' a busted lip. People might think he was a liar an' a cheat." Pete growled, shoving Bradley to the floor. "So you skedaddle over t' my house an' have Peg put a piece o' sirloin on that there eye. As for you, Maximillian... " He set Max down on the floor, then led Bradley out the door. "I don' see why yer father couldn't'a handled that."

Bradley directed a smirk over his shoulder at Max as the two of them left, and it took both Goofy and PJ to keep him from dashing after Bradley and giving him a matching set of eyes.

"So." Pete rumbled, as Bradley followed him across the yard towards the house, "You got in a pretty good scrap with that Goof kid. You got spunk." He slapped Bradley on the back, causing him to stagger slightly. "Why don't you stay fer dinner?"

Bradley looked up at him, touching a hand carefully to his black eye. "I, uh... maybe."

"Okay, son, your choice."

"Look, DON'T call me son, okay? I'm getting really sick of it." Bradley snapped. "Call me Bradley. Bradley Uppercrust the Third." Pete stared down at him indignantly, then he added, "And not BRAD either, got it?"

"You certainly are a bossy little upstart." Pete observed, pushing open the door as a group of summer rainclouds started to creep in over Spoonerville. "You git on in there an' go straight back from the door into th' kitchen an' Peg'll set you up with somethin' fer that eye." He ordered. "Then, we talk."

Bradley shrugged, choosing to ignore the fact that he was just called "little", let alone bossy and an upstart, and headed towards the yellow light of the kitchen, rubbing at his cheek. He stumbled slightly, knocking against a side table as he approached the doorway.

"PJ," a voice snapped, "I thought I told you to watch out for that -- " She rounded the corner and gasped. "My goodness! You poor young man!" Peg paused and screwed up her face in confusion. "Who are you, anyway....?" The confusion turned to a scowl. "And what are you doing in my house? Are you one of those bandits that thinks they can just waltz right in and ---"
Bradley heaved a sigh. "I'm Bradley Uppercrust the Third - apparently your husband's new employee." He said wearily, cutting her off.

"Oh! ... Well, then!" Peg smiled, grabbing a paper towel and daubing at the corner of Bradley's mouth. "I'm terribly sorry about that bandit thing. One never can be too careful. My goodness, it's a good thing you stopped me, I was about to go for the frying pan!" She giggled, then scowled again, leaning out the doorway of the kitchen. "PETERRRRR! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME WE HAD COMPANY???"

"I --"

"Never MIND!" Peg turned her attention back to Bradley, steering him over to the kitchen table and into a chair. "You sit right there, young man. ... And you tell me what happened! ... Knowing Pete's taste, it's something grandiose." She muttered, digging in the refrigerator.

"Well --" Bradley began, rubbing at his eye, "I --"

"DON'T TOUCH THAT!" Peg bellowed, rushing over and yanking his hand away. Promptly, she smacked a piece of some sort of meat onto his eye.

"YEOWCH!"

"Keep that there. ... Now, come on, speak up, what happened?"

Bradley coughed. "I'm staying with your neighbors for the summer, and let's just say Max and I don't get along."

"Aha." Peg nodded. "... What did you do to Max to deserve that?"

"He's the one that came into my room when I told him not to!"

"You must have done something."

"I retalliated verbally."

Peg pulled another paper towel off the roll. "You mean you insulted him." She said flatly, unimpressed. "No wonder my husband hired you, you've got a big mouth just like his."

Yours, too, lady. "Look, I don't need the running commentary, it's been a rough day."

"Running commentary?!? Well don't we think we're something." Peg sassed, handing him a glass of ginger ale. "Drink that. Knowing fistfights, I'll bet you got socked in the stomach."

Bradley grunted in reply and downed the glass with the speed and accuracy of a fraternity brother. He set down the glass and burped slightly. "Scuse me."

"Well, at least you have more manners than my husband." Peg noted, taking the glass. "You must be in college, I've never seen anyone from a different walk of life drink that fast. A-hahahaha."

"Amazing observation, Holmes." Bradley said sullenly, picking at the fringe on the tablecloth.

"Are you keeping that steak on there?" Peg asked, checking the casserole in the oven. "This reminds me, Peter had BETTER have invited you to eat with us. Have you eaten over at Goofy's?" She paused. "Wait. The last time Goofy decided to cook anything .... well ... you'd better have something here anyway. ... So why are you staying with them?"

Bradley groaned, trying to ignore the revulsion that crept into his stomach as the fact of the matter sunk in - he was sitting at a psycho woman's kitchen table with a piece of raw meat on his face, beaten to a pulp by his archrival, and on top of it all, the psycho was trying to get him to divulge the most humiliating information of his life. That, and maybe I shouldn't have chugged all that ginger ale at once....

"You really don't look well." Peg frowned. "You can go lie down on the couch if you'd like."

"Really, I'm fine." Bradley said, trying to keep from putting a hand to his stomach or his aching head, both of which hurt worse than taking a dive off the top of a halfpipe.

"I'll get you some aspirin. You bleeding anywhere else?"

My EGO... "No, don' think so, but thanks .... uh ..."

"Peg." She smiled, taking the casserole out of the oven. "You can call me Peg. And what was your name again?"

"Bradley."

"Right. Bradley somethingorother the seventh, right?"

"Uppercrust III." He finished, wincing.

"Oh! ..." Peg blinked. "I know that name from somewhere.... Uppercrust. On TV somewhere."

"I was in the College X Games." He ventured.

"No, that's PJ's thing. ... It was the news, or something." Peg shrugged. "Oh well, I'll remember it in the middle of the night and promptly forget it by breakfast. That's the way it goes." She popped open a king-sized bottle of aspirin and handed four to Bradley. "Take those." She said, handing him a small glass of water. "And you'd better sip that water, or else."

He nodded wearily. "Yuh huh." Whatever's in that dish, it smells good. ... Maybe I'll stay. But there's gotta be a better cure for a black eye than sticking a piece of meat on my face. He paused and lifted it up. Ooh. Filet mignon. At least it's expensive steak.

"So?" Peg cut off Bradley's musings. "Are you staying?"

"Well..."

"Hey mom! We gotta extra ice pack hangin' around here somewhere??" PJ called out, careening into the kitchen. He stopped short as he caught sight of Bradley, then burst out laughing. "Aw MAN! What I wouldn't give for a CAMERA!"

Bradley glared at him with his good eye. "Shut up."

Peg blinked. "PJ, what's going on here?"

"He tried to kill Max!"

"I did NOT, that little creep smacked me first!" Bradley shot to his feet.

"Yeah," PJ snorted, glaring up at him, "and you deserved it!!"

"BOYS!!!" Peg hollered, stepping between them. "I want the whole story and I want it now. You first, PJ."

"Well, Bradley took Max's potato salad and..."

"I mean the whole story, Peter Junior."

"Moooommmmm!" PJ whined, casting a sideways glance at Bradley, who was snickering. "Didja hafta ..."

"NOW. From soup to nuts. Both of you."

Bradley removed the filet from his eye just long enough to raise an eyebrow at Peg. "From square one, huh? Well, I'm the ... " He paused. "I was the head member of the top X Games team in Spoonerville State..."

"Yeah. Was." PJ smirked. "This much of the story, Mom? Are you serious?"

Peg nodded. "You boys can help me set the table, meanwhile... go on, Brinkley."

"Bradley." He sighed, grabbing a handful of napkins and setting them out as he continued his side of the story.

Peg listened attentively as both boys recounted their versions of the tale, being careful not to let them handle cutlery during the more heated points in the chronology. By the time both PJ and Bradley had presented their sides, the table was set. Peg wriggled her hands into her oven mitts as she looked at them both, as would a judge presiding over a case.

"Well." She said at last, lifting the massive casserole dish and carrying it over to the table, "I think I understand the problem now. And I do believe I have the perfect solution." Setting the dish down decisively, she strode back to the other end of the kitchen, retrieving an ice pack from the freezer and handing it to her son. "PJ, I want you to take this to Max and tell him three things.... One. Mr. Uppercrust here is going to stay for dinner, so they can both get some time to calm down after that little ... skirmish. Two. Bradley is going to give him a lengthy, sincere apology upon his return, which should be no later than nine o'clock." She smiled. "I know you don't want to miss that ... spectacle of male chauvanism that you and your father adore so much."

"Awriiiiight!" PJ grinned.

"Wait a minute. Did you say... apology?" Bradley said slowly, setting the filet mignon down on the cutting board and checking his eye in the reflective surface of the toaster.

"Don't touch it!" Peg scolded him. ''And yes, I did."

"WHAT????" Bradley whirled around to face her, good and black eye both wide with indignance. "There is NO way in HE--"

"You'll DO it," Peg snapped, "or NO chicken casserole, and NO first aid." She gestured to him generally, and he sighed resignedly. "That's better."

"Three?" PJ reminded her hesitantly, kneading the ice pack in his hands.

"Ah, YES." Peg smiled cheerfully. "Can't forget that, oh, nononono. Three: Tell Max.... to get himself another one of those yellow and blue jerseys. And if Peter's petty cash box won't cover both that and a matching helmet, I've got some spray paint. .... Oh! I forgot to ask. Bradley, what size are you?"

Both boys stared at Peg in disbelief. "Uhhhh...... medium." Bradley croaked.

"Size medium jersey, then." She nodded decisively, pulling off the oven mitts. "I think the only thing that will help this summer along is if you boys learn to work together. ..... And I don't think that's the only thing you'd end up learning from each other, either." She smiled wryly.

"Babababababut MOM!" PJ stuttered.

"DO IT!!!!"

"Yes, ma'am." He sighed. "But don't be surprised if Max and Bobby kill me tomorrow. ... After all - no sun shines favorably upon the winged messenger of unfavorable tidings...."

"Dear," Peg smiled, hugging him, "you'll be fine. And have I mentioned that I adore what your English major is doing for your vocabulary? Marvelous. Now, run along, dinner will wait...."

PJ nodded, casting a slight but suspicious glance over his shoulder at Bradley. He's GOTTA be brainwashing my mom. .... And the TEAM! .... Oh, man. I just KNOW he'll do whatever he can to ruin everything!

Bradley glowered at PJ as he retreated, then looked over at Peg, who was draining a pot of mixed vegetables into a large ceramic bowl. This woman is nuts, he decided. Putting me in a team of SOPHOMORES! .... But..... hold the phone and pass the directory! This could just be my chance to... He smiled slowly. Yes. Yes..... it's perfect. He paused. However, I have a feeling that tonight's dessert menu will consist of feet, words, and a generous slice of humble pie. Nothing like a glass of some mock sincerity to wash it all down.... With that, he began to rehearse the perfect apology in his head. "Oh, Mrs. P? ... Can I help you with anything else?" He smiled sweetly. This is going to be RICH.

"He said what?" Goofy frowned, moving an icepack from Max's knee to his shoulder.

Max groaned. "He said he was gonna spread rumors about you and Sylvia. That's when I lost it."

"That's just low. An' there ain't nuthin' wrong with Lester's Possum Park." Goofy sulked, handing Max a glass of soda. "Is there."

"Uh... no, Dad." Max smiled. It wasn't THAT bad for a tourist trap, in hindsight. I guess. "So how long d'you think Bradley will hide out next door? ... I feel bad for PJ."

"I dunno." Goofy shrugged. "I really am sorry he's bein' such a pest, Maxie."

"Dad..." Max frowned, checking his shoulder and moving the icepack back to his knee, "you should have said no."

"I didn't know who it was, Max." Goofy repeated. "Ah keep tellin' you that. Now eat yer sammich."

Max picked up his sandwich halfheartedly. "I'm really not hungry, Dad. The guys and I will probably get something tomorrow at the park... "

Goofy smiled encouragingly and pushed the plate towards him. "C'mon. Y'need yer three squares."

"Dad..."

"Maxie. Please eat. Don' be mad at me." Goofy sighed.

"Dad..."

"I'm serious, Max."

"DAD!" Max spluttered, flailing his arms. "Calm DOWN! All I said was I wasn't hungry, okay? It isn't you I'm angry at, it's that ... that ... "

"Bradley." Goofy nodded, taking a bite out of his peanut butter and pickle sandwich as PJ sailed into the door.

"Gotcha another ice pack, man." PJ announced, setting it down on Max's knee. "Also - messages from my Mom." He winced. "You won't believe it."

"After today, I could believe anything...."

"I seriously doubt that, Max. ... Okay, first of all, Bradley's stayin' for dinner, he'll be back by nine... Mom said you guys need space. I'm a bit more concerned about mine, but... hey."

Max nodded. "No offense taken, Peej.... Next message?"

"He's gonna apologize when he gets back."

Max blinked. "I bet your mom's ... convincing him of that right now."

"Yeah, s'what I thought too. ... But you'll never believe the last thing in a million years, Max.... she says... well...."

"What?"

PJ chuckled nervously. "She says......"

"Spit it out, Peej!!"

"ShesaysthatweshouldmakeBradleyapartoftheteamforthisseasonandyouneedtogethimsomegear." PJ blurted. "Size medium."

"All I caught was Bradley, team, gear, and size medium, PJ," Goofy scratched his head. "Can ya repeat that?"

Max stared at his friend in disbelief. "You're totally kidding me." He finally muttered, still not focusing his eyes.

"No way, would I kid about that?"

"Oh, geez. What the heck are we gonna tell Bobby?" Max moaned. "I guess, if your mom's got it in her head that it's a good idea, we'd better do it. ...."

"Peg shore is a fine planner." Goofy agreed. "Can't change her mind on nuthin'. Looks like we better, uh ... what're we doin' again?"

"Making Bradley a part of the team." Max mumbled through his hands. "And why are we doing this again?"

PJ sighed. "She thinks it'd help us ... get along or something, I dunno. I just have this feeling it's gonna make it worse...."

Max frowned. "We'd better keep a really close eye. Make sure he doesn't try and contact the Gammas or something, tell them what we're up to."

PJ nodded. "Yeah. I say if he distracts from our concentration or our performance too much, he's out."

"Good plan. I'll call Bobby and break it as easy as I can. You go eat your ... whatever it is, and don't let Towel Boy give you indigestion by running his mouth off all night! .... We'll keep him under control, don't worry, Peej." He held out a hand. "Do it to it?"

PJ smiled, giving his best-friend a high five. "Do it to it, man. See you tomorrow. And I want a transcript of that apology, dude."

"Are you kidding?" Max laughed. "I'm tape-recording it!!"