When I drink theraflu, weird shit happens.
The Mystery Machine had a big back seat. Velma knew this mainly because it shook whenever Fred talked Shaggy into it. They didn't do it on the front seat because the old VW's gearshift was easily kicked into first, and there had been that one incident with the storefront that they were STILL paying for.
Velma mostly knew because of the hidden surveillance device. "Daphne, I think they're 'finding clues' again."
Daphne giggled, flipping her hair and trotting over. "What excuse did Fred give this time?" She draped her arm casually over Velma's shoulder, leaning down to look. Her breast brushed Velma's back, but Velma was used to Daphne's teasing.
"Oh, the usual," Velma laughed. "Shaggy did it for a Scooby Snack."
The little surveillance camera was dark and jaggy and grainy, but the girls settled in to watch.
"J-Jeepers," Fred gasped, hand clutching Shaggy's hair. "B-boy, you weren't joking when you said you were good at eating."
"Better be a real good Scooby Snack for this," Shaggy said, laughing humorlessly before returning to work.
...And then my brain died.