Author's Note:

This story takes place between parts 1, and 2. Verious characters from the films, such as Ethel, and Junior, (Part 5,) Fox, Loco, and Ali, (Part 3,) and old crazy Ralph, (Parts 1, and 2,) will be encountered, as well as original characters of my own invention.

For Mike Richards, Friday, August 6, 1982, started out like any other day, but it was to end in a much different way than he would ever expect. He'd pretty much resigned himself to having to deal with his Christian parents for the entire summer, without so much as a single break. He'd already ended up in their bad-books, by having the bad luck to be caught listening to an episode of the radio horror series, "Nightfall," the previous week. He'd been subjected to a four hour lecture from both parents, about how such things would send him straight to Hell, with no hope of salvation, or even so much as a drop of water to cool his flaming tongue. Since then, he'd been watched by them constantly, his radio had been taken out of his room, and he'd been forbidden to close his bed room door at night. All his books, not that he had that many to begin with, had also been taken, and replaced with Christian crap he didn't even want to look at, let alone read.

He was sitting on the front porch, when a familiar blue van pulled into the driveway. The van in question belonged to Johnny Higgins, one of Mike's friends from Lakeview High.

"Good," he thought, as Johnny opened the door of the van, and got out, "now we'll have some fun."

"Hey, Mike," Johnny called, "you up for a little time away from it all?"

"I'm up for that any time," Mike answered, "but especially now."

"What's wrong?" inquired Johnny, "the Christian Crap Crew at it again?"

"Yeah, they are," Mike said, "this time, they left me without even a radio to my name, and as for my books, you can forget it."

"Well," said Johnny, "I guess it's a good thing you left some of your books at my place before the school year ended."

"Did you bring them?" Mike asked.

"No," said Johnny, an extremely mischievous smile lighting his face, "I only mentioned them to get your hopes up, and then, dash them."

At that moment, the door behind Mike opened, and Tammy Richards stepped out onto the porch. She looked, as always, as if she hadn't been dressed, but squeezed into her clothes. Today she was wearing a black dress which, in Mike's humble opinion, made her look like a cross between the wicked witch of the west, and the Grandmother from Flowers In The Attic.

"What are you doing here?" she asked Johnny, "Mike isn't seeing any one right now. He's on punishment."

"Is that right?" asked Mike, "I was totally unaware that I'd done something else to offend your God. What was it this time? Did I part my hair the wrong way again, forget to fall on my knees like an idiot on the seventh day of the week, or did I per chance suffer another witch to live. Really, I didn't mean to, but there are just so many of them lately. I can't figure out which one to kill first, or for that matter, how to do it. Should I burn the next one, hang her, or drown her? Or, maybe, I didn't bring enough money to church last week. What's the going price again? Was it a thousand dollars a week, or did it go up again? In my personal opinion, I shouldn't be paying a thing. I've been praying to your God to heal my sore left pinky toe for two months, and so far I've gotten no results."

Tammy raised her hand to slap Mike, but he ducked and said,

"If you hit me, I'm calling the cops. I'm sure they'd love to hear about abuse going on in this place. They already suspect you, and Dad of stealing money for your precious Pastor Dan, and an investigation's all you need right now."

"Shut up, and get in the house right now," said Tammy.

"Sorry," said Mike, "I'm not going, into the house, that is. Johnny came to take me on a little trip, and I'm going with him."

"Oh, no you're not," said Tammy.

"Try to stop me," Mike retorted, "you can't hit me. There's a witness, and you don't like to have any of those around. After all, having witnesses around when you abuse your 15-year-old son is against the laws of God. You could go to hell for it, not to mention, jail."

"Come on, if your coming," said Johnny, "I've got some other pick ups to make."

"Right with you," Mike said, and button hooked around the house to the back door, went into the house, and came out a minute later, carrying a large backpack.

"You're not going," said Tammy.

"Step on it!" Mike shouted as he got into the van, and slammed the door.

Johnny did as bid, and the van turned in a half circle, spraying Tammy Richards with gravel as it went. After they were clear of Mike's house, Johnny cut their speed a bit. They had been traveling at nearly 60 when they'd hit the road at the end of the Richards's driveway, but he didn't want to go that fast the rest of the trip. Doing that would most likely result in the whole lot of them, Mike, Johnny, and Johnny's most likely soon to be girlfriend, Brenda Fullerton finishing out the night in the Crystal Lake police station, waiting for their parents, and then, it would be right back to square one.

"Where to now?" Mike asked as he lit a cigarette, "You said we had some more pick ups to make. Do we brave the terrors of yet more Christians, or will our next stop involve us with a demon, or a dragon?"

"Very funny," said Brenda, "we're going to pick up Ann Miller next."

"Oh, great," said Mike, "first, the crazy Christians, and now, the sloppy sluggards."

"We're not buying anything in their store," said Johnny, "we're just getting Ann away from them for a week."

"I wouldn't buy anything from them if I were starving to death, fresh out of the cosmic deserts of Cthauhn, and theirs was the last store in the Mother fucking universe," Mike said, "if that sloppy son of a bitch Herald isn't eating out of the stuff on the shelves, he's bringing his fucking bunny-rabbits into the place, and letting them eat what he drops."

"The cosmic deserts of what?" asked Johnny, "I never heard of it."

"No, you wouldn't have," said Mike, "few people have."

"I wish I hadn't heard of Herald's eating habits either," said Brenda, "you've just succeeded in putting me off my lunch."

"I didn't know you were on it in the first place," said Mike.

"Ha ha," said Brenda, "very funny."

"Enough, you two," said Johnny, "we're here."

"Is Edna out front?" asked Mike.

"Not yet," Johnny replied, "but she soon will be."

The van came to a stop in front of, "Miller's Country Store, and Quickfill," and Mike, Johnny, and Brenda got out. They hadn't even reached the door, when it opened, and out stepped Edna Miller. As usual, she looked as if she'd never had a good day in her life. She stood on the front porch of the little store, to which the house was attached, scowling at the three of them.

"What the hell are you damn kids doing here?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Mike said immediately, "maybe we just dropped in to make your life a little more miserable. After all, you need something else to bitch about besides your old man, and his bunnies."

"Shut your mouth," said Edna.

"Bunnies, bunnies, bunnies, bunnies everywhere," Mike sang, doing his best to mimic a child's voice, "there's bunnies on the table, and there's bunnies on the chair, bunnies on the sofa, and there's bunnies on the floor, and there's some new ones coming through the door, more!"

"Get out of here, you little smart ass," said Edna.

"Or what?" asked Mike, "are you going to call the cops on us if we don't?"

The door opened again, and Ann Miller stepped out of the store, and tried to get around Edna. Edna, however, wasn't making that very easy. She would wait for Ann to begin moving, and then, block her way.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Mike said, "or you might end up on the ground, picking your falsies out of the flower garden."

"Shut up, kid," said Edna, "she's not going anywhere with you."

"Oh, yes I am," said Ann, "now, get out of my way before I knock you into the rosebushes."

Edna looked at Ann for a long moment, and then, apparently decided that she meant it, and backed off. That didn't stop her from continuing to give Mike, Johnny, and Brenda dirty looks, however.

"If you don't quit it," Brenda told her, "I'm coming up there to wipe the porch with your bitchy, loud-mouthed, ugly, sloppy, nagging ass."

"Can you fit any more adjectives in one sentence," asked Johnny.

"I can try," said Brenda, "do you want me to?"

"Not now," said Johnny.

"Hey," said Mike, "take a look at Ann."

There was plenty to look at. Ann Miller had dressed to go out. She was wearing a black formal dress with spaghetti straps, cut extremely low, showing the tops of her breasts to good advantage. The skirt she wore was also very short, and she had a great deal of leg showing. She had full, red, sensuous lips, and her full rosy cheeks bore the unmistakable color of sexy good health.

"Wow, Ann," Mike said in awe, "you look positively smashing."

"Yeah, and I'm going to smash some one in about two seconds," said Ann, "my Mother dear."

"You do not have the right to threaten me," said Edna.

"Oh, go bitch at King Slob the second some more," said Mike, "and get out of our face."

"Don't you mean our faces?" asked Ann.

"Yeah, I guess," said Mike, "but why'd you have to tell her? Now she knows a bit of grammar she didn't know before. It's not your job to teach her, nor is it your fault that she spent most of her time in school goofing off, and daydreaming about some movie star, or other."

"Which movie star?" asked Johnny.

"Probably Frankenstein," said Mike, "or the Deadly Mantis, or maybe the Tarantula."

"I didn't think her desires lay in that direction," said Brenda, "I was under the impression that a zombie would be more to her liking, an old, nasty, smelly decayed one."

"While you continue the unhealthy task of figuring out what my, err, Mother daydreams of," said Ann, "I'm going to find my cigarettes."

"You're not smoking in here," said Edna.

"That's right," said Johnny, "she smoking with us, in the van."

"Why did you bring the van when you have a car, Johnny?" Ann inquired.

"Well," said Johnny, "we'll need a van to get every one to our destination, where we'll be staying for a week."

"You're not leaving for a week," Edna said.

"Oh, yes I am," Ann said, "I'll be right back guys, I've got to get changed."

"What's wrong with what you're wearing now?" asked Brenda.

"Black absorbs the sun's rays," said Ann, "if I kept this on, in half an hour, I'd be so hot I could almost cook in it."

"You're not going," Edna said again.

"That record's getting old, and scratchy," said Mike, "change it."

Ann came back out a few minutes later, and got into the van, despite Edna's continued insistence that she wasn't going anywhere. She was now wearing tight blue slacks, and a button-down blouse. Beside her on the seat was a small suitcase, a makeup bag, and a tape deck. She was, in short, ready for anything.

"So, where are we going?" she asked.

"To the only place in the county where no one will give us any shit for having some fun," said Johnny.

"Where's that?" asked Mike, "I didn't think a place like that existed."

"Oh, one does," said Johnny, "and we're going to it as soon as we make a couple more stops."

"Where is this place?" Ann asked.

"Camp Crystal Lake," said Johnny, "no one ever goes up there, so no one's going to bug us."

"Nice how you never told me where we were going till now," said Brenda.

"Don't you want to go?" asked Johnny.

"Yeah I do," said Brenda, "but aren't you afraid that some one might murder us all in our beds, or something?"

"That's not going to happen," said Johnny, "my God, you should hear some of the things she comes up with sometimes. She said once that she heard about a family who bought a summer home up here, moved in, set up deliveries of food, and then, just stopped calling the few friends they'd made in town. She says that a neighbor got worried about them, broke into the house, and found them all butchered in their beds."

"God! Do you think that's true?" Mike asked Ann.

"No," Ann said distantly.

Ann wished that Johnny had told her where they were going before they had left the store. She would have paid more attention to how she looked if she'd known. She reached up to touch her face. Nothing seemed out of place there. She reached for her makeup bag, took out some makeup remover and a cotton ball. After removing her makeup, she began carefully applying it over again, adding a heavy-duty sunscreen to the regimen.

"How do you put on makeup in a moving vehicle?" Brenda asked.

"Carefully," Ann replied, still distantly.

"And how do you know that the story I told Johnny wasn't true?"

"I keep an eye on what goes on up there," Ann said. "Are we going to pick up Joan?"

"Yep!" Johnny answered.

Next, Ann took down her hair and began to brush it out. She brushed it until it was completely smooth, then, put it back up into a ponytail. She debated whether or not to add a little hair glitter, but decided against it. She didn't know what the condition of the camp showers would be, and no-rinse shampoo didn't get that stuff out well.

Ann leaned back, reached into her pocket and pulled out her cigarettes.

"Someone want to give me a light?" she asked. Unfortunately, Ann's fingers just weren't strong enough to flick the wheel on a cigarette lighter.

"Sure," Mike said. He leaned back as Ann leaned forward, and took the cigarette from her hand, lit it, and handed it back to her around the seat.

"Thanks," Ann said.

"No problem," Mike responded.

"I'm just glad you guys didn't drop that cigarette in my van!" Johnny said, looking extremely relieved.

"Don't shit yourself, Johnny," Ann assured him, amazing everyone as always with her ability to swear abundantly, and still make it sound elegant. "I never drop a cigarette, because that would be a waste."

"How do you get them, anyway?" Brenda asked.

"I lift them from the store. Don't worry, it's safe. They're the only things King Sloppy doesn't touch."

"If he could eat them," said Mike, "he'd probably get into them too, not to mention the cigars, and the chewing tobacco."

"That's one thing he doesn't do," said Ann.

"What?" asked Brenda, "eat that stuff?"

"Chew tobacco," said Ann.

"Give him half a chance," said Mike, "and he'd try it. Anything to be an even bigger slob than he is now."

After making a stop at the only reputable grocery store in Crystal Lake, the one not owned by the Millers, where you could actually get every thing you could possibly wand, including cigarettes, without having to worry about the food having been presampled, they picked up Joan Carlton. There were no incidents during the pick up either. She seemed to be one of the only young people in the whole county whose parents weren't either raving Christian nuts, or obnoxious assholes. She got into the van, carrying her suitcase, radio, and purse.

Ann moved over, and Joan sat down beside her. Soon, Joan was helping Ann with her hair. She had always been able to do the most creative things with people's hair. Some people, including her parents saw a bright future for her as a beautician, not that she wanted to spend the rest of her life behind a barber's chair.

"Who are we picking up next?" asked Mike.

"Beth Porter," said Johnny.

"You'd better hope Donna Blake's not with her," said Brenda, "or we'll have nothing but trouble this week."

Before they reached Beth Porter's house, however, they encountered Ethel Hubbard, and her loud, obnoxious, and not too bright son, Junior. No one knew what his actual birth name was, nor did any one care. He was just Junior, also known in some quarters as, "that loud fucking son of a bitch." They had stopped along the side of the road, the ever present old, beaten up, dented dirt bike they used for transportation leaning on it's kickstand beside them, and were apparently just looking into the woods. As the van passed them, some dirt flew out from under the tires, and into Ethel's hair. At once, her concentration, and that of Junior left the woods, and centered on the van. They started foreword with Ethel leading the way. When she reached the van, she began hammering on the driver's side window.

Johnny opened the door, and said, "Quit banging on my fucking window!"

"Now, you listen to me fella," Ethel said, shaking her finger in Johnny's face, "you got us all fuckin dirty. You got no respect for your elders, but I'm gonna learn you some."

"You tell em Ma!" shouted Junior.

"Ethel," said Johnny, "quit shoving that finger into my face, or I'll break it off, and feed it to my dog."

"You shut your trap, and mind what I'm sayin," said Ethel, "your gonna learn respect if I got to beat it into you."

"Say it like you mean it ma," Junior yelled.

"You shut your fuckin trap!" Ethel said, turning to junior.

"Now, there's a marvelous example of parent-to-child interaction," said Ann, "remind me never to take parenting lessons from her."

"You shut up too!" Ethel shouted at Ann, "or I'm gonna chop you into itty bitty little pieces my friend!"

"Yeah!" Junior added, his voice even louder than that of his Mother, "my mama's gonna chop you up into itty bitty pieces my friend!"

"Would you shut the fuck up?" Ethel shouted, turning back to Junior.

Johnny, meanwhile, had apparently decided that he'd heard enough of Ethel, and Junior's Stupidity Fest, for one afternoon, shut the van door, nearly taking Ethel's fingers off in the process, and floored the accelerator. The van shot forward, nearly running junior down, and sped off, leaving Ethel, and Junior behind in a large cloud of dust.

"Hey, Johnny," said Mike, "you just got them all dirty; dirtier I mean."

"That will give them something to really bitch about," said Ann.

"Do we really want Ethel, and Junior to have something else to bitch about?" asked Mike, "The last time they did, they were racketing all over town on that fucking dirt bike, looking for chief Tierney, wanting Scott Stubs arrested for playing music too close to their precious yard, and being extremely loud about it."

"I think they're funny when they're pissed," said Johnny, "if there's no circus in town, just piss the two of them off, and get all your entertainment for free."

"Yeah," said Mike, "but one of these days she's going to go beyond just talking about blowing some one's brains out, and actually do it."

"When that happens," said Ann, "they'll be arrested, and no one else in town will ever have to deal with them again."

"Do you really think we'll ever get that lucky?" asked Brenda.

"Some day, yes," said Ann.

They reached Beth Porter's house, and sure enough, there was Donna Blake, standing right beside Beth. The two of them stepped forward, and Beth said, "I'm bringing a friend along. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Nice for who?" Mike asked, "Certainly not for us."

Beth got into the van, and Donna pushed her way in after her. The two of them took seats near the back, nearly filling the seat next to them with luggage.

"Great," said Mike, "there goes our quiet time away from it all."

"Oh, shut up Mike," said Donna.

"Come on up here, and make me," Mike retorted.

"All right, you two," said Beth, "fight nice."

"What an airhead," said Ann, "why did you invite her, Johnny?"

"She's all right on her own," said Johnny.

"But she brought Donna along," said Mike, "when the two of them are together, Beth's never all right. During such times, she's merely the tail Donna wags."

They drove on for about ten more minutes, and then Johnny stopped the van in a long driveway. The house to which said driveway was connected was set so far back from the road, that it couldn't be seen unless you drove all the way to the garage.

"I never understood why the people who originally built this place put so much yard in front," said Mike, "if there's ever a fire here, C.L.F.D. won't even know how to get to it."

A boy of roughly the same age as mike appeared at the head of the driveway, walked quickly toward the van, opened one of the side doors, got in, offloading about as much luggage as Donna, and Beth had brought, and sat down.

"Hey, what do you say, Scott?" Johnny asked.

"So," said Scott Stubs, "you finally got here."

"Don't blame Johnny," said Brenda," "we've had to deal with Edna Miller, Tammy Richards, and Ethel, and Junior so far today, not to mention, Donna Blake."

"You didn't tell me she was coming," said Scott.

"We didn't know she was, at least until we got to Beth's house," Johnny said, "before that, we thought we'd have a Donna-free week."

"Fuck off, and die, Johnny," said Donna.

"Yeah, Donna," said Johnny, "if you don't like my company, you can get out right here, and walk back home."

Donna said nothing more for a while. Apparently, she didn't want to miss the opportunity to get out of town for a while. She lit another cigarette, and settled back in the seat next to Beth.

The trip proceeded uneventfully, at least until the van reached the crossroads. There, sitting astride his somewhat over the hill bicycle, was old crazy Ralph, the town lunatic, and prophet of doom.

"Oh my," said Mike, "it's old Ralph."

"That's all we need," said Brenda.

Unfortunately for Johnny, the driver's side window of the van was open, and the van itself was at a full stop, due to the close presents of a stop sign. Ralph approached the side of the van, put the kickstand of his bike down, and looked at the eight teens before him.

"You're going to Camp Blood, ain't you?" he said, "You'll never come back again."

"Oh, great," said Ann, "dispatches from the planet Stupid!"

"It's got a death curse," Ralph said, as if he hadn't even heard Ann, "I'm a messenger of God. I've got to warn you. You're all doomed if you go there. Go back home. Go! Go!"

"If you're a messenger of the Christian God," said Ann, "what does the asshole look like? I want to know, so I can tell him he's a useless, ugly fuck."

"Run him down, Johnny!" Brenda said.

Johnny floored the accelerator, but didn't aim the van at Ralph. He did, however, succeed in covering the old Crazy man with road dirt. Every one in the van began laughing at the sight.

"It's Pig Pen number four!" Mike said, after he'd regained control of himself.

"Four?" Ann inquired, "since when do Ethel, Junior, and crazy Ralph add up to four?"

"I also sprayed Tammy Richards," said Johnny.

"I see a bright future for you, and this van, Johnny," said Mike.

"Where?" asked Johnny.

"In one of those events, where four, or five people in vans, and trucks try to throw as much dirt at the audience as possible," said Mike.

"No thanks," said Johnny, "I want to keep it looking good, and that means clean, and undented."

"How much further is there to go?" asked Ann.

"About ten more miles," said Johnny, "we should get there before dark."

"Get where?" asked Scott.

"Oh," said Mike, "didn't he tell you? We're off to Camp Crystal Lake."