Scooby Doo Porn Story: Keeping Up with the Joneses Chapter 3

Chapter
3:

Velma
stirred slightly and rolled over in bed. She opened her eyes
slightly.

The
neon green numbers on the alarm clock flashed nine-thirty-four.
Jinkies, how late had she slept? Well… she was being rather hard
on herself. She was, after all, much more of a morning person than
most people. Shaggy, when he didn’t have work, routinely slept until
one in the afternoon.

Actually,
Shaggy was awake already, she realized after sitting up. He had said
he would be getting up early; apparently he really had. And he had
somehow done so without waking Velma.

She
climbed out of bed. She thought her flu was coming back. She could
smell Shaggy’s cooking coming from the kitchen, but despite his
exemplary culinary skills she felt somewhat sickened by it. Even so,
she put on her bathrobe and made her way into the kitchen to join
him.

“Mornin’,
Sleeping Beauty,” Shaggy joked as she approached. Great. Now
he was sure to use every morning-person line he had acquired from her
own artillery against him.

She
tried to put on her perkiest face, as though maybe she had awakened
earlier than now and had simply lingered in the bedroom for a while.
“Good morning, Shaggy. How long have you been up?”

“Since
nine-ish.”

Okay,
so perhaps she couldn’t pull that trick, not if Shaggy had been in
the room as recently as half an hour ago. Then again, he couldn’t
rail on her too harshly for sleeping in either.

“And
you’ve got all this set up?” Velma questioned, dazed. Shaggy
had pulled out every dish in his apartment, it seemed. All four
burners of the stove were occupied, as well as both oven racks, the
microwave, and even the toaster. He was a good multi-tasker.

“Yep,”
Shaggy responded cheerfully. Hey, he was doing what he liked.
“Here… I got your breakfast.” He passed her a plate of
scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and hash browns. It was a large
enough helping that anyone other than Shaggy or Scooby would have
gotten sick from eating the whole thing, but for Velma just smelling
it made her nauseous.

Even
so, she tried to eat what she could. This was partly out of
politeness, but mainly so Shaggy wouldn’t ask if anything was wrong.
She didn’t want to worry him…

“Shoot…”
Shaggy muttered suddenly.

“Huh?”
Velma asked, uncharacteristically unintelligently.

“Oh,
just… I thought I had everything I needed for this recipe… it
turned out I had a couple of things on the back I forgot about… now
I need to go pick them up…”

“I’ll
do it,” Velma volunteered.

Shaggy
smiled gratefully. “Like, thanks, Velma. You’re a lifesaver.”
He kissed Velma good-bye.

She
stepped outside. The previous night’s snowstorm had subsided; now a
few whimsical snowflakes fluttered from the sky, slow yet lively,
like children on their way home from school. Surely the roads would
still be icy, but at least it was a few degrees warmer, and the
overall effect was that there was nothing really menacing in the day
ahead. The cheerful, childlike freedom of a bright white blanket of
snow brought back the nostalgia of snowball fights ten years ago.

Or
igloos one month ago. Velma
smiled. The previous one had melted, but she and Shaggy could build
another one. They should.
The great outdoors on Christmas Eve did much to lift her spirits.

All
this was, of course, before she actaually started driving.

She
started off without feeling too much worse than when she woke up that
morning. But then carsickness set in… and her breakfast started to
churn within her…

She
rolled down the window. Aaaahhh… That was much better. She felt
her horrible urge to vomit lift, leaving her with only a slight
nausea. She didn’t care that it was only twelve degrees fahrenheit
without the wind chill. She didn’t care that snowflakes were blowing
into her hair. She didn’t care that the wind was stinging her face.
This felt good.

Suddenly,
she was struck by a rather disturbing deja vu.

She
could remember another open window, in another vehicle, in the midst
of another cold month. She could remember why that window was open,
too.

Nah…

That
was impossible.

Was
it?

A
slight, dreading fear crept through her mind. She tried to shake it,
but it wouldn’t leave. Her scientific mind had to actually eliminate
all
impossibilities before settling on the truth. She had yet to
disprove this theory which had just occurred to her. Her previous
“conclusion” was truly just a “hypothesis.” The
experiment wasn’t over.

Sighing,
she made a mental shopping list of her own, one which held only one
item.