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The humid Ohio air hangs thick as Max scuffs his worn Vans against Yakko Warner’s cracked driveway. Inside, Yakko’s muffled laughter mixes with Wakko’s gleeful shrieks and the rhythmic thwack-thwack of Dot spraying her brother with the garden hose—a chaotic symphony Max usually finds comforting. Today, it just makes his stomach twist.
"Hey," Max mumbles, kicking a loose pebble. Yakko turns, his trademark grin faltering at Max’s slumped shoulders. "Dad’s dragging me to Lake Destiny. Idaho. Tomorrow. For, like, two weeks."
Yakko’s expressive face drops. "The Powerline party! Stacey’s basement? You promised!"
"I know!" Max blurts, too loud. He lowers his voice, cheeks flushing. "I’m really sorry. Maybe... maybe find someone else to go with?" Panic flashes in Yakko’s eyes before Max hastily adds, "Or—bring Wakko and Dot! Seriously!"
Nearby, Wakko attempts to lick the hose nozzle, prompting Dot to redirect the spray into his open mouth expertly.
"Gah! Blegh!" Wakko sputters, shaking his head like a wet dog. Dot giggles.
Yakko raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Maxie, Stacey’s parents are hosting. Wakko tried to eat their Persian rug last time."
Max leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Yeah, but listen—after Idaho? Dad and I are gonna be onstage with Powerline! At the L.A. concert!"
Yakko stares, dubious. Max has pulled off wild stunts before—like sneaking them into that R-rated movie. Still... "Onstage? With Powerline?"
"Swear!" Max insists earnestly.
Before Yakko can reply, Goofy’s cheerful "A-hyuck!" cuts through the yard. He materializes beside Max, gently but firmly gripping his son’s arm. "Time’s a-wastin’, Maxie! Destiny’s fish are bedeviled by hunger!"
With surprising strength, Goofy steers Max toward the blindingly yellow AMC Pacer wagon parked haphazardly on the curb. Max stumbles, scrambling into the passenger seat. He shoots Yakko a desperate, apologetic wave through the dusty window as Goofy beams and honks the clown-car horn twice. Wakko sneezes loudly. Dot sighs.
"Well," Yakko mutters, adjusting his suddenly-too-loose baseball jersey, "Guess we’re crashing Stacey’s party."