3 Family Hug

Chapter 3 FAMILY HUG "Coke!" Pep shouted. "Wake up!" "I don't want to die!" Coke shouted. "I don't want to die!" "You're not gonna die!" his sister insisted. Coke looked around. He was no longer on a bridge. He was sitting on the bench in the RV park across the street from Graceland, just as he had been before he nodded off. "Huh? What? You're alive!" "You must have been having a bad dream," Pep told him. "How could you possibly fall asleep at a time like this? You were snoring and shouting and slobbering all over me." Coke shook his head and snapped out of it. He could see and smell the smoldering ruins of the RV, and he instantly remembered

everything that had happened. "Aunt Judy," he whispered. "She's dead." "We killed her," Pep said, choking back tears. "I'm responsible for the death of another human being." "She killed herself," Coke said quietly. "We had nothing to do with it." It certainly wasn't their fault, but even so the twins had played a part in the accident. And it was their own aunt who was the victim. This was after they had already been involved in another accidental death back in Washington, when Archie Clone tried to drop them on the Washington Monument. They were beginning to think they were not entirely innocent in these tragedies. And bad news, it is said, comes in threes. "What do you think happened to her?" Pep asked. "I mean, why did she go crazy like that?" "Who knows?" Coke replied. "She was in love with Dr. Warsaw. I guess she would do anything for him."

The police had not arrived on the scene yet. There was nothing left of the RV, except for the charred remains of the vehicle's chassis. A crowd of gawkers had gathered around to watch it melt and take cell phone pictures of the carnage. This was the most exciting thing to happen around Graceland since the days when Elvis—the real Elvis—used to live there. "Somebody was probably smoking in bed," a lady said. "Coulda been a propane tank," said a man in overalls. "I never trust them things." Only Coke and Pep knew what really happened. Pep covered her nose to avoid inhaling the noxious fumes, and scanned the crowd. There were several suspicious-looking characters walking around, but at least none of them looked like Mrs. Higgins, Dr. Warsaw, or the bowler dudes. "What do we tell Mom and Dad?" Pep asked her brother. "I don't know," Coke replied. "But we can't

tell Mom about Aunt Judy. Knowing that her sister was an assassin would be too painful." Soon their parents returned from their tour of Graceland. "What's that smell?" Dr. McDonald asked Coke and Pep as he walked through the gate at the Graceland RV Park & Campground. "It smells like burning tires." Yes—burning tires, a burning engine, a burning transmission, a burning radiator, and every other part of an RV that can burn. When Dr. and Mrs. McDonald realized which RV it was, they stopped in their tracks. "Honey, is that where we parked our...," Mrs. McDonald said. "I'd better call the insurance company," said Dr. McDonald. It had been a good vehicle, all in all. It took them over four thousand miles without any problems. It never needed any serious maintenance. But now all that was left was a pile of twisted metal.

"I can't believe it," Mrs. McDonald said, stunned. She repeated it over and over again, as if that would change what had happened. "Everything's gone." "It's all my fault," Coke admitted. "I'm really sorry." "You blew up the RV?" his mother asked. "Not exactly," Pep explained. "It's like this," Coke said, and then he proceeded to tell his parents the whole story. He explained how they met Evil Elvis back in New Bern, North Carolina, and how The King had terrorized Pep at the Birthplace of Pepsi and almost shredded him at the World of Coca-Cola in Atlanta. He told his parents how Evil Elvis had pulled a gun on them at the grave site of Elvis, and how he chased them into the RV, grabbed the backpack filled with explosives, and accidentally ignited it and detonated the fireworks inside. Dr. McDonald took a long look into Coke's eyes, as if he was trying to peer inside his son's

soul. Mrs. McDonald just shook her head. Coke fully expected to be grounded for the rest of his life, if not longer. He deserved it. Instead, Dr. McDonald leaned back his head and burst out laughing. "Oh man, that is a great story!" he said, clapping each of the twins on the back. "If only I had your imagination. It makes me wish I was a kid again." "You're not mad?" Pep asked. "Mad?" said Dr. McDonald, pulling the twins close to him. "How could I be mad at you two? It wasn't your fault. The RV must have spontaneously combusted. It had a full tank of gas. One little spark from somebody's campfire or cigarette could have set it off." "I never trusted that thing," said Mrs. McDonald. "You read about crazy things like this happening all the time, but you just assume they'll never happen to you. And then, boom, it happens to you. It was just bad luck. Luckily, we paid for the insurance."