|Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven,|
@ 2016-03-01 14:49:00
|Entry tags:||breakfast club fic brian|
The Breakfast Club fic: Good Citizen [Brian, general]
Title: Good Citizen
Fandom: The Breakfast Club
Characters: Brian, various OCs
Length: 1140 words
Summary: Brian Johnson breaks the law.
Note: This was inspired by the fact that today is Super Tuesday in the U.S. presidential primary elections.
First there was the problem of the materials. The paper didn't matter so much—Brian was pretty sure it was just cardstock, or something similar—but there was the photograph, the typefaces—five, by his count—and different ink colors, not to mention the need to have it laminated. No way could he do it himself. A dot-matrix printer job was going to look too phony to fool anyone, even the fossils who checked IDs.
He knew it was illegal. Both getting a fake card, and what he needed it for, but he figured the purpose really was good. He was obviously better qualified than most of the yahoos out there. Just look at some of those idiots. You had guys like—well, like John Bender in his shop class. Bender wasn't eighteen yet either, but his dad, for instance. No one could argue that Brian wasn't a better citizen than that guy.
So Brian asked around, discreetly. Among his friends neither Mike nor Randy had any connections or even ideas. Luckily Eric's sister's boyfriend's older brother turned out to work at a printing shop, so Brian went there to talk to him.
"Yeah," said Greg, "I can do that. You'll have to give me the photo and the info, and it'll be thirty bucks." He gave Brian the once-over. "Try to get a photo where you don't look like you're twelve, okay?"
Brian nodded. "I'll bring it next week."
Eric was one of the photographers for the Sherman High School paper, The General News, but Mike had his own darkroom setup so Brian bought the film, Eric took a dozen pictures—at the last moment they realized that the background had to be blue, so they hung up a bedsheet on Brian's wall—and Mike developed them.
"It's got to be the right size, that's the thing," Brian said when they were looking the pictures over. "I worked it out. The photo should be just under 1.6 inches high, and just under 1.25 inches wide, and my head should be about three-quarters of an inch wide in it, with the top of my head a quarter inch from the top of the photo."
"Sure you don't want to make it down to the millimeter, Bri? Okay, okay. I can reprint." said Mike. He flipped through the photos once more. "How about this one? I think you look older in this one."
Privately Brian didn't think it looked much different from the rest, but what did he know? "Sure. Go with that. Maybe make a couple of copies so that if one gets messed up somehow there's a spare."
He wrote out all the information that would go on the card. He used the number from his own, legitimate license, and everything else was the same too except that he updated his height and weight. The only difference was the birthdate, which he made June 8, 1961 instead of June 8, 1967, figuring that a 7 and a 1 looked similar enough that it could be passed off as a mistake when the DMV guy typed it in, if anyone ever noticed.
Greg was helping a harried-looking woman when Brian got back to the printing shop Thursday afternoon. The other employee, whose name badge identified him as Kevin DeWitt, said, "Can I help you?"
Brian hadn't planned for this. "Um." He saw a sample book on the counter. "I just wanted to see how much it would cost to, uh, print up some flyers, maybe with a picture on them? Or maybe some cards? Like, for the bulletin board at the Happy Foods, for a summer business."
"Sure. Price list here." Kevin shoved it at him. "Yell when you're ready."
"Okay." Brian pretended to read through the price list as Kevin went into the back of the shop. He was relieved when Greg finished with the other customer.
"Geez, not now, you moron," Greg hissed at him when he pulled the photos out of his wallet. "I thought you were coming back on Saturday."
Brian felt his face turn red. "Sorry. I'll do that."
On Saturday he was waiting outside the door when Greg arrived to open up at ten o'clock. "Here." He thrust the photos and sheet of paper into Greg's hands. "When should I pick it up?"
"Thirty bucks, remember?" Greg said. "Up front."
"Half now, half when I get it." Brian wouldn't have bargained, except that he only had seventeen dollars and change with him. He'd have to go home to get the rest.
Unexpectedly, Greg laughed. "Okay, kid. Tell you what. I can probably get this done today, unless we get a lot busier than usual for a Saturday. So come back at five and I'll have it for you."
"Thanks. I'll be here at five," said Brian. He dug a ten and five ones out of his wallet and gave them to Greg, grabbed his bike, and pedaled off. It was a couple of miles to get home, and he wished he could have driven, but his dad was in Decatur for business and his mom had the station wagon to do the grocery shopping, so he was stuck on two wheels this morning.
He managed to get his mom to let him drive in the afternoon, though, by saying that he needed to get some books from the library. He did that first and made it to the print shop just at five.
"Here you go." Greg handed him the card. "Use it in good health. Planning to go to Neo? Or maybe Medusa? Good places for punk."
Brian was pretty sure that Greg was making fun of him. "Maybe," he shrugged. "Thanks again."
He slid the card into his wallet, behind his real license, and headed for home.
"Done," he told his friends triumphantly at lunch on Monday.
"Come on, let us see it," said Eric.
"Pretty awesome," said Mike, running his thumb over the edge of the card. "The picture turned out well, don't you think?" He passed it to Eric, who nodded and passed it to Randy.
"Just one little problem," said Randy, squinting at the card.
"What?" asked Brian, alarmed.
"Check out your birthday." Randy held it out. "I think it might make people suspicious."
"Shit." Greg had fucked it up, all right. Instead of 1961, he'd put 1916.
"Yeah, no way is anyone going to believe you're old enough to retire," Randy said.
"No." Brian's shoulders slumped. "I'll have to get him to do another one."
"Hope he doesn't make you pay again," said Eric. "Since he's the one who messed up."
"Yeah. Hope not. Guess I'll be using that spare picture you printed, Mike," Brian said.
All this trouble, just so he could vote.