The Goonies by James Kahn

said. Me and Data went to the side of the building, but the windows were too high. Chunk walked over to the garage while
     I piled a couple of orange crates for me and Data to stand on. We climbed up, put our noses to the glass, and looked inside.
    It was a restaurant with a bar, but it looked shut down, and pretty ratty for sure. The kind of seafood place with shredded
     fishnet hanging on the ceiling, all covered with dust and cobwebs. There were stuffed fish on the walls, too, except they
     looked plastic, and crossed oars with rusty pins, and the whole place looked like it had been left behind somebody's refrigerator
     for about ten years.
    Way in the back I saw two people. Shadows of people, actually. Probably the guys we saw go in. They were dragging two long,
     limp sacks across the floor. I figured flour, or maybe a couple of big swordfish, so I figured these guys were makin' a food
     delivery, or maybe they were the off-season kitchen help, so I figured maybe they could tell us what the story was.
    So I jumped down off the orange crates and went inside. Mouth and Data followed.
    It was, like I said, real quiet. The ceiling had high beams that kind of swallowed up all the light from the few bulbs stuck
     along the walls. Some of the furniture was broken, some of the plaster was cracked. It seemed deserted, but at the same, time
     I felt watched.
    Chunk suddenly came running in, waving his arms and jumpin' around real crazy. There was this old jukebox near the bar, and
     in a weird way it looked like Chunk was dancing to some silent song that he could hear and we couldn't.
    That happens to me sometimes: I hear some melody, Iguess it's in my head, 'cause when I say, “Did you hear that?” someone like Brand looks at me like I was crackin' up. But
     it's there, swear to God, just like the pictures are really there in the clouds, just like there are patterns in the jigsaw
     puzzle some people can see and some can't. I mean, maybe that
does
make me a dreamer. But don't you have dreams?
    So Chunk started gaspin', “Guys! Guys! We gotta get outta here! There's a car in the garage with—”
    But before he could finish, a slamming door cut him off. I jumped high enough to hurt myself coming down. We all turned toward
     the sound of the door and saw a woman standing there, and I jumped again.
    She was sort of old but looked like she could eat the four of us alive and was thinkin' about it. She had on an ugly black
     dress, black shoes, a black beret, and a black scowl. There was a tattoo on her left arm. Damn, she looked mean.
    “How long you boys been at that window?” she growled.
    “Long enough to see that this place needs about four hundred roach traps,” said Mouth. Only Mouth could have thought up a
     crack that fast to this lady. It kind of broke the tension for me, though, and I nearly laughed, especially because you could
     see she really had it in for Mouth now, so the heat was kind of off the rest of us.
    She pulled out a chair at one of the grungy tables and motioned us to have a seat, which we did. She called out, “Jake! We
     got customers!”
    We heard a loud thump in the back room, and then someone called back, “Whattaya mean, customers? This ain't no—” As he was
     sayin' this last part, he stuck his head out and saw us and said, “Shit, Mama,” real soft.
    The old lady snapped her fingers at him, “Now go on. Get in the kitchen. Warm up the stove.”
    Jake walked across the room to the kitchen door, giving us the eye the whole way. He was an older guy, maybe thirty, with
     round, wire glasses and a cool vest and a temper you could see all under everything.
    “Okay,” said Mama, “we got a specialized menu here.” She had to be kidding. The table we were at was wobbly and filthy enough
     to make my mom puke if she ever saw it. I tried to pick up a rusty fork, but it was half stuck down with an expired glop of
     chewing gum. Really gross.
    The other guys looked pretty leery, but Chunk looked