HalloScooby, where are you?

Music, Journalism, Stretch


It was about an hour after Fred took the mask off Old Farmer Judge, revealing him to be the monster that was haunting the village of Summerfield. Scooby was hungry. Very, very hungry. The gang were putting bags in the Mystery Machine.


“Hey Scooby. It’s cool.” said Shaggy. “We just have to go on a quick trip. Yowsers, you sure look hungry guy. Look at you licking your lips.”

“Uhhee-hee-hee-hee. Scooby snacks?”

“Okay Scooby. Here you go” said Daphne and produced a silver tray.

Scooby’s legs spun around and rammed into the silver tray.

“Easy Scooby.” She said.

“C’mon Daphne.” Shouted a visibly angry Fred.

“Okay Fred.” Daphne meekly replied.

Scooby cocked his head happily at the goings on, but soon forgot about it when Daphne lifted the lid of the tray.

A gigantic sandwich with sausage, tomatoes, lettuce and oozing with mustard. Five decks of bread. Scooby leered at the sandwich.

Daphne turned around and scowled at Fred. When she looked back the food was gone and Scooby was looking up to the sky innocently, whistling.

They all laughed except Fred who glared at Daphne.

“Just get in the van.” He said. The mood soured.

Scooby watched them moving off.



Geoff Marsh answered the door and brought the vet into the kitchen. His large dog sat stiff in the centre of the kitchen. Eyes open, tongue hanging out. Big dog eyes darted around. The vet called to him,

“Scooby. Scooby.”

Nothing. He was in a trance.

A small trace of drool, slipped out of the corner of his mouth on to the floor. Both Geoff and the vet watched it as it slowly plopped to the ground.

“Have you tried moving him or visual stimulus?”

“Doc, I’ve tried everything. He just sits and because he’s so strong, it’s impossible to move him.”

“Is he eating?”

“Yeah, when he comes out of it. Sometimes.”

“Well if he gets dehydrated we may need to put him on a drip.



The van returned about a half hour later. Scooby woke from a pleasant snooze.

The gang stood by the van, drinking cheap beers. Shaggy, Daphne and Velma whispered conspiratorially. Scooby yawned loudly. Tiitters could be heard.

He ambled clumsily over to the van. Velma turned and spied him.

“Hey Scooby. Eh, maybe you should keep your distance tonight.”

Scooby let his mouth open and wagged his tail doing a comedy confused face which they all loved. He came closer.

The back door of the mystery machine opened and Fred looked out. Seeing Scooby, he roared,

“Scooby!! Fuck off!”

Then Fred threw a wrench at him. Scooby ran off behind some bushes with this long tail firmly between his skinny legs.

“Velma Dinkley! Get in here.” Screamed Fred.

Velma looked at the others, spilled out the backwash from her beer and climbed into the vehicle. The door was slammed shut.



“Would you like milk with your coffee?” Geoff said to the vet.

“No.Without. Thanks.” Said the vet. “Y’know. I’ve never seen anything like it, but there is a condition called cognitive dysfunction syndrome. You see it a lot with dogs who stare at walls. Some say its for attention but CDS can be similar to alzheimer’s in humans.”

“But, my dog is very young. A few years old.” Said Geoff

“Yeah. That’s what’s puzzling me. It might be some sort of seizure but he seems placid enough.”

They looked around at Scooby who was now crouched down, tail wrapped in behind him with a fearful look on his face.



The door swung open. Velma jumped out and ran off crying, her orange jumper ripped in parts.

“Daphne. Ha. Get yourself in here now.”

A nervous looking Daphne grimaced at Shaggy and slowly looked inside. Scooby could hear snorting and sniffing. Shaggy walked over across the brush toward Scooby as the back door slammed again. A girl’s scream was heard. Scooby jumped to his feet and started growling.



“Look at him now. He seems to have regained some kind of mental function.” Exclaimed the vet.

They both looked in the direction that Scooby was looking.

“What is it Scooby? Is it a mouse? We’ve had a few problems with mice ever since the neighbour both five compost bins. I mean, five fucking compost bins. How much shit do they need to recycle?” laughed Geoff.

“Haha. Some people. I have a neighbour who lets ducks use their back garden like it’s a farm. Then the ducks just disappear, no doubt into a boiling pot.” Said the vet.

“People are fucking weird.” Said Geoff.

“True dat.” Said the vet. They laughed.

Scooby got up to a sitting position, looking up and around, then closed his eyes again.



Shaggy rubbed Scooby’s head with his quivering hand.

“It’s okay Scooby. Don’t worry about Daphne. She’ll be eh, alright. Fred just gets into bad moods sometimes. I’ll get you an ice cream sundae later”

“On Sundae Shaggy? Uh-hee-hee-hee-hee.” Laughed Scooby

Daphne struggled out the driver window half naked and ran to a cowering Velma. They hugged. They we’re in the middle of nowhere. There was nowhere to escape.

“I said FUCK OFF Scooby!”

Neither he or Shaggy had seen Fred running at them. Fred kicked at Scooby but missed. Scooby ran into the forest.

He looked back and saw Shaggy being dragged by his straw-like hair into the van. A huge bang could be heard. Scooby ran off. He lay down with nervous exhaustion and fell asleep



“There he goes. A sleep might do him good.” Said the vet.

“I’m sorry to drag you out like this. He’s just…never been like this.” Said Geoff. “How much do I owe you?”

“Geoff. Don’t worry. If I was worried I would have given him a sedative. I think he’ll be alright. Fix up with me next time you’re in. Maybe bring him in early next week and I’ll do a  few tests. Good night.”

“Bye Doc.”

Geoff shut the door and wandered back in to the kitchen. Scooby was still asleep. Quietly Geoff went upstairs and went to bed.



Scooby woke up. It was dark. He looked around and shook his head, releasing globules of spit everywhere. He got the courage up and went on his tippy-toes back toward where the van was. He looked fretfully from side-to-side and fell over a log. He walloped his head off a rock and three little birds circled his head. His eyes spiralled around.

When he came to, he saw what he had fallen over. Velma lay with dead eyes staring at him, a large red wound cut in to her orange jumper. Scooby tried to bark but no bark came. He felt like he was screaming and barking and thrashing around the place but he was silent. He moved on through the trees. He jumped back on his tippy-toes and quietly inched foward.

He thought that there must be a monster about. Normally they captured these ghosts or monsters. This was different. He’d never really thought about it. He never thought what would happen if one of these monsters actually…won. Terrified, he moved slowly through dense foliage.

A tree looking like it was alive, shook violently and a branch swung and hit him straight in the face. He fell backwards and ran straight into a pair of light blue ankle boots. They seemed familiar. He looked around but no one was there. Something soft and wet touched the top of his head and he became aware of Daphne’s body hanging from the tree above him, blood dripping down her arms, her face, legs, everywhere.

He needed help. He had to find Fred and Shaggy.

The motor from the Mystery Machine was running and loud country rock music was booming from its speakers. The back door was a ajar and smoke was softly whispering out. He could smell tobacco or something else as he approached the van. There was blood and white powder on the door handle. The van was rocking. He moved to the opening. He was drawn toward a sound.

With his nose he nudged the door open. A prone shaggy was trouserless. Fred was lying on Shaggy’s back squirming furiously, holding his neck. Shaggy’s eyes told Scooby to run, but he couldn’t move. Fred looked up, continued to ride on Shaggy’s back and started to laugh hysterically. Fred pulled a razor from the floor and dragged it across Shaggy’s throat. The blood pumped violently from the wound into Scooby’s face. Fred’s face was distorted from his maniacal laughing. Scooby…



Geoff heard whimpering from downstairs and rushed down. He slipped as his socks failed to grip the shiny tiled floor. He landed on his stomach in from of his dog in the dark kitchen. The dog was in the sitting position. Geoff used his phone to illuminate the dog’s face. He was shocked to see the dog’s eyes closed but a cascade of tears running down each eye. Dog’s don’t cry?

“Scooby?” He shouted,

The large dog’s eyes opened revealing blood red irises,. The dog growled low and bared his teeth. The man was not quick enough to get away from him as the jaws connected with his neck crushing the life out of him.


HalloDebbie, we love you

Music, Journalism, Stretch


Debbie, pale and confused, jumped up clenching the pillow with her teeth. She recalled the night before. A strange meeting with something or someone had made her feel uneasy. Being drunk she figured she could sleep it off. Maybe someone had spiked her drink. Maybe she had just imagined it. Whatever it was made her nauseous or maybe that was just the Pernod. She reached for her water and knocked it over.

“Fuck. That is so fucking typical.”

She froze, realising that this wrongness was familiar. Afraid that going back to sleep would make it worse, she got up and had breakfast. Porridge with slices of banana, kiwi fruit and blueberries scattered across the gungey mess. She squeezed honey over the top and added chopped almonds and drank down some guava juice. A cafetière sat next to her with strong aromatic steam.

Debbie picked up a magazine and there was a picture of a girl eating pretty much the same breakfast. She saw something out of the corner of here eye, shuddered and then went back to the picture. All her friends looked like this woman. They all talked about eating this breakfast. She closed the magazine, put down the spoon and got dressed to go to the gym.

She sensed she was being followed but couldn’t see anyone. Inside the gym, healthy looking people in lycra and yoga pants filled every treadmill, every weights machine. The place was packed. She was conscious of her weight so wore shorts over her lycra leggings and looked for a space. After finding no machine unused she got her yoga mat and sat down in the corner to do some yoga. An angry gym attendant shouted to her that she couldn’t sit there. She would be a fire hazard. Everybody was looking at her, some smirking, some just looking. That was worse. Behind the sweaty sea of bodies another stood. She recognised her from the previous night. She was wearing black denim jeans, a leather jacket and shades, and she was staring at Debbie.

Debbie gathered her stuff and went to shower. She turned on the taps and the water counted out freezing cold and brown coloured droplets. She screamed, dressing quickly while wet and exiting the building. She dropped her stuff off at her flat and rushed to work. Taxis passed her, it started to rain. The same dark clothed woman appeared at a bus stop. Soaking and cold from the gym, Debbie ran to the same stop and waited for the bus. She kept an eye on the woman, while boarding the bus. She handed a tenner to the driver realising she had no change and told him to ‘just fucking keep the change.’ There were no seats. The woman’s shades followed her as the bus moved off. Debbie promised herself that she wouldn’t cry, but she couldn’t stop her eyes welling up. Fuck. Fuck it. Keep control.

Work started slow. She felt tired. She stood by the water cooler and a guy she liked joined her and started asking her how her day was going in the most redundant of language. She realised she hadn’t washed properly, could smell herself. He must smell her too. She had fancied him for months. Now that they were talking she realised that he seemed really dull. He also sensed her odour and said ‘catch you later.’ She shrugged her shoulders and thought, ‘catch you later.’ For fuck’s sake.

The phone rang. She answered. There was silence. Just light breathing. A cold sweat wandered across the back of her shoulders. She slammed down the phone. It was her. It had to be. The phone rang again. She reefed it from its cradle. Silence again.

“What? What the fuck do you want? Why are you following me? Who the FUCK are you?” she screamed.

“Eh, Hi Debbie. This is Rachel, your boss. Em, I was just ringing to tell you that we had planned your performance review, but, we ah have moved it forward to, well now basically. Em. Okay?”

She stared at the phone cradle for a long time and whispered to herself, ‘what the fuck is going on?’

The result of the meeting was an enforced visit to the company psychologist, a lightening of her duties and a new trial period to make sure her behaviour stayed up to the scratch. All of this was communicated by the bitchy secretary to the entire floor. That afternoon she could have swung two baseball bats around in her isolation.

She walked home in the rain. Her boss drove up alongside her and shouted she should get a bus and then asked reluctantly if she wanted a lift. She mumbled ‘no’ with rain dripping down her chin. Her boss moved off at which point Debbie broke down. Only her twisted face could show she was upset it was raining so hard.

A bus passed and she saw the woman looking down at her from the condensation-filled window. Enough of an elbow wipe to see her face and the smirk that filled it.

Finally home, she quickly realised the food in the fridge had gone off. The pizza delivery guy went to the wrong address and apparently just ‘gave up’ according to the receptionist. The bath she was going to have was cold as her boiler had broken down. Uncomfortable with the beginnings of a cold, Debbie crawled into bed. She kept fitfully waking up numerous times thinking someone was touching her face. At 4AM, she woke to see the the bedspread moving. She threw it back but there was nothing there. Drifting off to sleep, the events of the day spun around in her head relentlessly waking her once again to the sensation that someone was in her bed. Again nothing. She finally got a few hours of steady deep sleep.

A scream woke her up as the alarm went off. She banged on the clock. Deciding to call in sick and maybe eat just toast for breakfast, she hung over the side of the bed and stared at the carpet. The duvet was pulled back a little and she went into that cold sweat again. Dragging herself up to the bed, she saw a lump of brown hair under the duvet. Two hands stretched out and grabbed her neck and choked her. As her last breaths came out, she hoarsely whispered,

“You? Fuck-ing typ-i-cal.”