The Goonies Read Online Free PDF Page B

big flies. The ugliest one kept
     practicing his golf swing. The closest one talked.
    “Hello, guys. I'm Mr. Perkins. Troy's father.”
    Perkins was one of the owners of the country club, and a bigger jerk has never existed in this galaxy, except maybe for his
     idiot son Troy.
    Brand kept his cool, though. “My dad's not here, Mr. Perkins.”
    “Well, then, is your mommy home?”
    What a flake.
    “No, sir,” said Brand, “she's out at the market buying Pampers for all us kids.”
    Perkins laughed like someone had taught him how, then stopped like he forgot the way the rest of it went. “Well, you can give
     these papers to your father to read over… and sign. Somebody from my office will pick them up in the morning.”
    Brand took the papers and closed the door in the guy's ugly face.
    “What is all that stuff?” I asked. But I knew.
    “It's Dad's business,” said Brand. He was real depressed now.
    We sort of looked at all the legal forms, but they were too complicated to figure out. Then we looked out the window at the
     three insect-men as they walked away, and they seemed real simple to figure out. Scums with money.
    I remember seeing this old movie on the tube,
You Can't Take it With You
, about this stuffy, tight banker who's about to foreclose on the good-hearted heroes, but they convince him with love and
     generosity in the end that it's better to be kind and fun than rich, so he doesn't forecloseon 'em, he plays the harmonica instead. Stuff like that only happens in the movies, though.
    “If I found any treasure with that map,” I said, “I'd pay all Dad's bills and buy his mortgage, and then maybe he could get
     to sleep at night instead of sittin' up tryin' to figure out a way for us to stay here.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Me too.”
    “Me three.”
    Brand just grabbed me by the hair, though. “You can forget about any adventures, limp lungs. You go outside now and Mom'll
     ground my ass. And I got a date with Andy on Friday.”
    “You're dreamin', dude,” said Mouth. “Besides; who's gonna drive you? Her parents? Then you gotta make it with her and her
     mother.”
    “Eat it, Mouth,” Brand said, and walked back to his exercise area.
    I pulled the map from inside my shirt, and the guys pushed in to check it out.
    Another lightning bolt flashed outside. It looked like blue neon. The map brightened and dimmed.
    It looked like my future.
    So me and the guys powwowed and came up with an exceptional plan.
    We waited until Brand was sitting in his straight-backed chair in the rec room, pulling his spring-coil chest exerciser across
     his chest. We drifted around behind him, and then, the second he finished the fifteenth rep of his third set and dropped his
     arms like a couple quivering lumps at his sides, we jumped into action.
    Mouth held Brand's arms to his sides; me and Chunk grabbed the exerciser and wrapped it around his chest, arms, and the back
     of the chair; and Data clamped the twoends of the exerciser together in back. Brand was totally chained. It was totally cool.
    “Hey! Wait… lemmee out!”
    We were outta there, though.
    We snuck through the backyard. Grandpa was sleeping in the hammock, probably dreamin' about Ziegfeld's Follies or somethin'.
    “Careful, don't wake Grandpa!” I whispered.
    “Shhh, yeah, don't wake him.”
    “Yeah, shhh.”
    Just as we rounded the corner of the house, though, Mouth shoved the hammock, and Grandpa woke up.
    It's not that Mouth was a mean person, you gotta understand—he just had this basic urge to do whatever it was he shouldn't
     do. I think it was genetic or something.
    Anyway, we split before Grandpa saw us, slipped out the back, Jack, and ran to the side of the house. Mouth let the air out
     of Brand's ten-speed while we climbed onto our dirt bikes.
    I looked to make sure Mouth wasn't slashin' the tires or anything. “It took him 376 lawn jobs to pay for that,” I said. “It's
     his most favorite thing in the world.”
    “Now it's his