Disclaimer: I do not own the Young Ones, neither do I profit from writing about them, even though I wish I did. Viva El Presidentay!
It was a typical day in the Young Ones household, birds were singing, papers were being written, and happy little woodland animals were scampering around the kitchen and having a simply lovely time.
"Clear off you bastards!"
An angry shout shattered the peace, and an orange haired youth dashed into the kitchen, brandishing a chainsaw. The happy little woodland animals realised they had outstayed their welcome and scattered out of a convenient hole in the wall into the garden. With a triumphant smirk, the youth, more commonly known as Vyvyan Basterd, dropped the chainsaw to the grimy floor with a clatter.
Vyvyan stared slowly around at the mess in the kitchen, it looked as if the animals had been having quite a party – there was broken crockery, lentils and half a wooden deck chair strewn about the floor. The young punk's face slowly drew into a frown as he also realised the greatest error, there was no food.
"Neil? Neil?! Your hippy friends have eaten all the breakfast… you hippy!" There was no reply, so he went to the fridge and kicked it open with the plan of finding anything labelled 'Rick' and devouring it.
"Good morning Vyvyan!" Came a dopily cheerful voice from the kitchen doorway. Vyvyan stuck his head further into the fridge. "It's a- What are you doing?"
Vyvyan's bestest buddy Rick glared at the half visible form of his house mate, hands going to rest on his hips as he awaited an answer, one snazzily booted foot tapping impatiently. "Well? Have you lost your head?" He grinned and gave a snort at his own wit. "Ha, lost your head… and your head is in the fridge so I can't see it! I don't know how I do it, I'm so funny."
A spiked head of hair emerged from the fridge, framing a scowl. "Shut up, you girl. Where's Neil? He should have made the breakfast two hours ago!" The medical student's mildly deranged blue eyes drifted back to the meagre contents of the fridge. A lone something that possibly used to be a tomato stared back at him, not looking hopeful at all.
Before any further argument or discontent could disrupt the peace of the morning, another house mate came to join the group in the ever popular kitchen.
"Mike TheCoolPerson enters the kitchen, freshly showered and feeling good. He strolls across the floor, says 'Good Morning' to the others and… trips over a chainsaw." Mike had indeed tripped over Vyvyan's discarded murder weapon. The self-titled Cool Person picked himself and the chainsaw up, pointing it towards the person that always got pointed at whenever someone needed to be blamed for something blowing up or dangerous happenings happening. "Vyv, I am not the complaining type, I am in fact every woman's type, but why is there a chainsaw lying in the middle of the floor? Someone could trip up on it you know."
"It's Vyvyan's fault." Rick felt it necessary to interject. He was ignored.
"You see Mike," The medical student began; pointing one finger at the man he addressed to emphasize his point. "I needed that chainsaw to chase away the hippies! Hahaha." He felt that final statement had been a particularly strong line of argument, and it seemed to have proved his case to Mike as well, who simply sat down at the table and opened up the newspaper to read it.
"Guys! Guys!" A hippy came stumbling frantically through the back door, looking awfully excited about something.
"Neil! Where's the breakfast?" Vyvyan demanded.
"Um, well, I haven't actually cooked it yet, because I actually have something really important to tell you!" He danced impatiently from foot to foot, hoping against hope that one of the guys would actually listen to something he had to say, instead of dishing out the usual abuse that, as a hippy, he knew it was his place to undertake.
"What? You found out where the shower is?" Rick snorted and gave a grimacing smile, looking around for approval. He received none, although Vyvyan kindly hit him over the head with a cup to reward his comedy efforts.
"No Rick, it's upstairs man. I can show it to you later if you want, but I have something really heavy to tell you first."
"Have you made the breakfast yet?" The punk looked just about ready to put his empty cup to use again.
"Don't you want to hear what I have to tell you?" Neil looked anxiously around at the others, not really expecting an answer in the affirmative.
"No, because you're incredibly boring." Rick interjected.
Mike slowly folded up the newspaper and placed it on the table, raising his eyes to the agitated hippy. Pushing his chair back, he rose to his feet and placed his hands in his pockets.
"Let's hear it then, Neil. The sooner you tell us, the sooner you can make breakfast."
"Yeah, okay, yeah, cool." Neil blinked and took a moment to scrape his long dirty brown hair back behind his ears. "Remember how I said the other day that I hadn't seen an ice cream van around here in like a really long time?" He stared haplessly at the blank faces of the others, evidently they didn't remember, but he decided to carry on regardless. "Well I was just taking a walk outside you know, to appreciate nature, and like this ice cream van came past. It's parked outside right now!"
"You're such a child, Neil." Rick smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and screwing his nose up in a derogatory manner. "No one cares about ice cream vans anymore."
"I do, virgin, I'm starving!" The resident punk exclaimed, searching through the pockets of his jeans for money. Finding nothing except a few pellets of hamster food and a scalpel, he turned to the others and held out his hands expectantly. Neil stared at his empty hands a while, then placed a lentil in them. Vyvyan did the only thing acceptable in such a situation, and smashed a fist down on top of his… friend's head.
"That was really uncool, man…"
"Does no one have any money?" Vyvyan glanced at each of the others in turn, ignoring the uncertain way both Neil and Rick were swaying on their feet. The answer was a unanimous 'no'. He was however, not to be swayed by something as trivial as the lack of money with which to purchase his coveted ice cream. "Well that's okay, because I have a plan."
"You can't have a plan; you need a brain before you can have a plan." It seemed Rick would never get the message about when to shut up.
"Shut up, virgin. You don't even have a…" Vyvyan trailed off, thinking he could hear the distinct sound of an ice cream van making its getaway to a tinkling soundtrack of 'Girls and Boys Come out to Play'. "Come on!" He shouted impatiently, snatching up a chair leg from the deck chair that inexplicably decorated the kitchen floor and storming out the back door in his distinctive Frankenstein-style lurch. Intrigued, the others followed.