Author's Note: Yes, it's me again. No, I haven't given up on "Outside Looking In," but I am horribly blocked on it, so I ignored it for a long time. Now, I'm hoping to get my Zen muse back, and to that end, I'm going to try to write some missing scene pieces from each episode, ranging in length from drabbles to vignettes, that work within the confines of the show, but flesh out the Jackie/Hyde dynamic. Not sure how far I'll get, or how often I'll update, but I'm hoping, if nothing else, it will get me started writing again. To that end, a missing scene from the pilot.
Disclaimer: If these characters were mine, I wouldn't have to go work at my minimum wage job tomorrow, now would I?
That '70s Pilot
Hyde hated the arcade. Too noisy, too many people, too much the traditional "high-school hangout." He much preferred The Hub, and, being the coolest in his gang, he usually got his way. But Donna was tired of The Hub; she wanted something different, and given that both he and Forman were becoming increasingly stupid over Donna Pinciotti, they had been talked into coming here after school today.
It just figured that he would be the first one there, forced to listen to the ringing of pinball machines and the gloating of brainless jocks, without a beer or a joint to take the edge off.
This was the last time he was going to let a girl talk him into anything. Ever.
As if to complete his picture of hell, he was suddenly accosted with, "Where's Michael?" in a familiar, grating, shrill voice.
He glared at the tiny brunette. "Not here. So shoo."
"Shoo?" Her hands predictably found her hips. Jackie Burkhart had been born a nagging wife, and, unluckily for Hyde, she had settled on one of his best friends to dominate and control. "I'm not a fly! I'm Michael's girlfriend. You should talk to me with respect."
"How exactly does one respect the leech sucking the life out of his friends?"
Jackie tossed her head defiantly. Her dark hair formed a wave of righteous indignation, and her mismatched eyes focused her rage into a bullet point through his head. "I'm going to tell Michael what you just said to me, Steven Hyde! You're such a…a—a—poor person!"
"Wow, really burned me with that one. Don't know how I'll ever survive it."
The cheerleader's eyes narrowed into slits at Hyde's sarcastic response. "I'm going to talk to people who matter now." She turned on her heel and walked away, head held high and hips swaying in an enticing way beneath her short denim skirt.
You know, it's really too bad she's such a bitch; otherwise, she might be kinda hot. No sooner had the thought occurred to him, than he shoved it out of his mind. It was merely the kind of delusional idea that could enter a head not otherwise braced against society.
Damn, he needed some circle time.
Still, with a lack of other objects of interest to occupy him, his eyes were drawn more than once to where Jackie chatted with several of her giggly school friends, as they watched some steroid-ridden football player pound the pinball machine into submission. She presided over them all, secure in her environment of shallow superiority.
She caught his eyes once and gave him the kind of glare that could sear metal, before turning up her button nose and refusing to look at him again.
It was then Hyde came to a decision. The Jackie experience needed to end. Now.