“Festy Goes to the Drive-In” - RA#11

Festy Goes to the Drive-In – A quiet night at the drive-in? Not a chance.

Birko, Cinders, and Piper roll into the newly reopened Bray Park Drive-In for a night of classic cinema, cozy snacks, and maybe—just maybe—a sneaky intermission snog. But when car keys start vanishing, the projector flickers ominously, and shadowy figures creep along the tree line, it’s clear that something strange is afoot.

With The Festy revved and ready, Birko must set aside his fear of Jaws and uncover the truth lurking in the darkness. Is it just a case of drive-in mischief, or is there something bigger at play?

Buckle up—this is one movie night they won’t forget.

Act 1: The Calm Before the Shark

Late afternoon light poured through the windows of the Birko Burrow as Birko buzzed around tidying up. With a rag in hand, he dusted off his collection of lawn care trophies and adjusted the angle of his prized photo of The Festy. Humming enthusiastically, he sang to the tune of “Mr. Damage” by The Angels, replacing the lyrics with his own masterpiece:

Holding council with the lawn grub King
Trying hard to decide the fate of his regime
There’s only one thing needed to keep the cooch risin’
That’s a man with a victa and a lawn edge machine!
They call me … Mr. Birko!

Cinders strolled in, holding her Milo, her blonde hair catching the fading sunlight. She paused, raising an amused eyebrow. “Is this what I signed up for? Life with Mr. Birko: Lawn Crusader and Driveway Rock God?”

“Jealous?” Birko asked, striking a rockstar pose with his rag. Piper barked in agreement, wagging her tail.

“Sure,” Cinders teased, sipping her Milo. “If it gets you to finally clean The Festy, I’ll take it.”

“The Festy deserves nothing but the best,” Birko declared, heading to the driveway. The flames on the white 1996 Ford Festiva’s sides gleamed brilliantly as he gave it a final wipe. “Tonight’s its night to shine! Jaws on the big screen—this is an event!”

Cinders smirked. “You do realize it’s a movie about a rubber shark, right? Not exactly terrifying.”

“Rubber or not, sharks are apex predators,” Birko shot back, pouring himself a thermos of tea. “It’s called respecting the food chain.”

Piper barked excitedly, circling The Festy, as if eager to hit the road.

Cinders grinned. “Piper’s ready. Are you, Mr. Birko?”

Birko gave the car a pat. “The Festy and I were born ready. Let’s roll!” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “And besides, I may just get a snog with you at intermission.”

Cinders rolled her eyes, laughing. “Don’t get your hopes up too high, Mr. Birko.”

Birko grinned. “That’s not a no!”

The drive to the newly reopened Bray Park Drive-In was filled with Birko’s humming and impromptu Angels remixes. As the flames on The Festy gleamed under the setting sun, it felt like a triumphant return to its glory days.

When they arrived, the lot was buzzing with chatter and the scent of hot chips. Cars lined up in neat rows, and the giant screen lit up with trailers for retro classics.

Cinders spread a cozy blanket in the backseat, tossing popcorn to Piper while Birko fussed with the thermos. The first bars of the iconic Jaws theme played, and the screen came alive with images of the sea.

“Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the drive-in…” Birko muttered, pulling the blanket over his head.

Cinders burst out laughing. “You’re actually scared of the shark?”

“I’m not scared,” Birko mumbled from under the blanket. “Just cautious.”

“Birko, it’s a rubber shark!”

“And rubber can be dangerous,” he argued, peeking out.

As the tension on the screen built, Piper barked softly at the eerie music. Cinders threw another piece of popcorn at Birko, shaking her head at his dramatic squirming.

Then, without warning, the screen flickered. The projector hummed and sputtered, and the drive-in lights dimmed briefly before plunging the lot into confusion.

Birko popped out from under the blanket. “What’s happening? Is it the shark? Is it in the lot?”

Cinders rolled her eyes. “Birko, it’s not the shark.” She pointed toward the concession stand, where a faint commotion stirred. “But something’s definitely up.”

Birko sighed, setting his thermos down. “Fine. Let’s go investigate. But if this turns into another mystery, I’m charging for my services.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Cinders teased, grabbing her flashlight.

As Piper bounded ahead, her nose already sniffing for clues, Birko muttered, “I just wanted a quiet night with tea and a fake shark. Is that too much to ask?”

Act 2: Shadows Among the Cars

The rows of parked cars at the Bray Park Drive-In were now buzzing with whispers and muted frustration as moviegoers tried to figure out what had interrupted the show. The iconic Jaws theme faded into the night air, replaced by the murmurs of curious onlookers.

At the concession stand, Stan, the owner of the drive-in, wrung his hands nervously. His usual cheerful demeanour was replaced by frazzled energy as he gestured wildly at the projector booth.

“I tell ya, it’s been weird all night,” Stan said as Birko, Cinders, and Piper approached. “Flickering lights, strange noises, and now the projector’s acting up. This place is supposed to be haunted or something.”

“Haunted? By who?” Birko asked sceptically. “The ghost of a disappointed movie critic?”

Stan glanced around nervously. “Nah, some local legend about a film reel thief from decades ago. Back when the drive-in was first built, some kid apparently stole an entire movie reel. They say his ghost roams the grounds, looking for it.”

Cinders smirked. “Sounds like a convenient way to cover up for bad maintenance.”

“Hey!” Stan shot back. “It’s not just that. A couple of people already said their keys went missing tonight. One bloke’s wallet’s gone, too.”

Birko rubbed his temples. “Great. From ghost stories to petty theft. Can’t we just go back to the movie? I was starting to feel safe under my blanket.”

Before Stan could respond, Piper barked sharply, her ears pricking up. She sniffed the air and darted toward the edge of the lot, tail wagging furiously.

“Piper’s onto something,” Cinders said, grabbing the flashlight.

Birko groaned, taking a sip from his thermos. “I knew it. Trouble always starts with that dog sniffing something out.”

The trio followed Piper to a secluded area near the tree line, where the shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally long under the dim glow of the projector booth. Piper stopped suddenly, pawing at the ground near a small pile of crumpled wrappers and discarded movie tickets.

“What is it, girl?” Cinders asked, crouching down. She brushed aside the litter, revealing a single car key glinting faintly in the flashlight’s beam.

Cinders held it up. “Missing keys, found. What do you think?”

Birko crossed his arms. “I think someone’s about to blame a ghost for bad habits. Bet they dropped it while sneaking extra popcorn.”

Before Cinders could reply, a branch snapped nearby. The sharp sound echoed through the quiet lot, causing Birko to freeze mid-sip. He gripped the thermos tightly. “Who’s there?”

For a moment, silence. Then, from the shadows, a hooded figure emerged, their face obscured. Upon spotting the trio, they bolted toward the trees.

“Brilliant,” Birko muttered. “Because chasing creepy strangers in the dark always ends well.”

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” Cinders asked, already jogging after the figure.

Birko sighed, adjusting his thermos like a weapon. “Why do I even try?”

Piper barked excitedly, leading the charge as the trio disappeared into the shadows.

Act 3: The Chase Through the Shadows

The hooded figure sprinted deeper into the tree line, the beam from Cinders’ flashlight cutting through the darkness like a blade. Piper darted ahead, barking furiously, her paws thudding against the damp ground. Birko, trailing behind, was already breathing heavily.

“Why does this always happen?” he muttered, clutching his thermos as he jogged after them. “I was this close to enjoying my tea in peace.”

Cinders glanced back, grinning. “I told you—trouble seems to love us.”

“And by us, you mean you and the dog,” Birko shot back. “I’m just the guy with the tea and bad timing.”

The hooded figure ducked behind a thicket, momentarily out of sight. Piper paused at the edge of the clearing, growling low in her throat, nose twitching. Cinders crouched beside her, shining the light in all directions.

“He’s still close,” she whispered. “Piper’s got his scent.”

“Of course he’s close,” Birko muttered, leaning against a tree and panting. “He’s not Usain Bolt. He’s just a bloke in a hoodie.”

Suddenly, the figure bolted again—this time toward a narrow path leading back to the far end of the drive-in lot.

“There!” Cinders shouted. “Come on!”

“Oh, sure. Let’s follow the stranger into the dark woods. Great idea,” Birko groaned, but he pushed off the tree and followed, thermos still in hand. “I’m going to need two teas after this. Two.”

Back at the Drive-In

The chase led them out of the trees and back to the fringes of the drive-in lot. The movie had resumed, and Jaws’ iconic dorsal fin sliced ominously across the screen, accompanied by the infamous “duh-duh, duh-duh” music.

Birko skidded to a stop near the edge of the parked cars. “Oh, wonderful. We’re back at the part where the rubber shark attacks the boat.”

“Focus, Birko,” Cinders hissed, shining her flashlight between the rows of vehicles. Piper led them onward, weaving around cars and ducking beneath bumpers, her nose locked onto the scent.

The hooded figure was now darting between parked cars, their movements frantic. As the trio rounded the corner, they spotted him crouched beside a dusty old station wagon, fumbling with its door lock.

“He’s trying to break in!” Cinders whispered.

“Or he’s just bad with car keys,” Birko deadpanned.

Cinders shot him a look. “Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” Birko grumbled, adjusting his grip on the thermos like it was a cricket bat. “Let’s do this.”

“Now!” Cinders shouted, and they sprinted toward the figure.

Caught off guard, the hooded stranger yelped and stumbled backward, dropping a set of keys with a metallic clatter. Piper growled menacingly, inching closer as Cinders shone the flashlight on him.

“Alright, mate,” Birko said, pointing his thermos like a weapon. “We’ve got a Kelpie, a flashlight, and a very cranky tea drinker. Care to explain yourself?”

The figure froze, breathing heavily. Slowly, they raised their hands and pulled back the hood, revealing a dishevelled teenager with wild hair and wide, panicked eyes.

“It’s just a kid,” Cinders said, her tone softening.

“I didn’t do anything!” the teen blurted, his voice cracking. “I wasn’t stealing! I was just—just looking for something!”

Birko narrowed his eyes. “Looking for what? Popcorn? Because there’s an entire concession stand for that.”

The teenager glanced nervously between Birko, Cinders, and the still-growling Piper. “It’s not popcorn! It’s… a film reel.”

Cinders blinked. “A film reel?”

The boy nodded rapidly. “Yeah! My granddad told me this drive-in has something special—an old reel from the ’70s, back when it first opened. He said it captured a legendary street race, but it was lost years ago. I thought maybe I could find it.”

Birko’s jaw dropped. “Wait. You mean we’re running around in the dark because of a missing movie reel? That’s what this is about?”

“It’s not just a reel!” the boy insisted. “It’s history—proof of Brisbane’s wildest drivers. People would pay a fortune for it.”

Cinders tilted her head, intrigued. “You think someone else is looking for it too?”

The boy nodded again, frantic. “Yeah! I heard someone’s been sneaking around the lot for weeks—asking questions about the old projection room. I thought if I found the reel first…”

Just then, a low, guttural voice interrupted them. “Well, well. Looks like the kid wasn’t wrong.”

They turned sharply to see two figures emerging from the shadows near the tree line. Both men were broad-shouldered and wore grease-stained jackets, their silhouettes menacing in the dim light.

The taller of the two stepped forward, his grin sharp and unpleasant. “Hand over that reel, kid. We’ve got unfinished business.”

Birko sighed dramatically, taking another sip of his tea. “And just when you thought it was safe to go back to the drive-in…”

Cinders gave him a look. “Not the time for jokes, Birko.”

The taller man cracked his knuckles, his grin widening. “You lot should’ve stayed in your car.”

Piper let out a sharp bark, baring her teeth as she stepped in front of the group.

Birko tightened his grip on the thermos, muttering, “I’ll have you know I’m not above using this as a weapon.”

The shorter man sneered. “That supposed to scare us?”

“No,” Birko replied calmly. “But she might.”

Piper lunged forward, barking ferociously, and the men staggered back in surprise.

“Run!” Cinders shouted, grabbing the teenager’s arm. Birko didn’t need to be told twice.

The group sprinted toward The Festy, the men stumbling after them, cursing loudly. Birko fumbled with the keys, the adrenaline making his hands shake.

“Any time now!” Cinders urged, glancing back.

“I’m trying!” Birko hissed, jamming the key into the lock. The engine sputtered, then roared to life. “Get in!”

The Festy’s doors slammed shut just as the two men reached them. Piper barked furiously out the window as Birko jammed the car into gear, tires squealing as they shot out of the lot.

The two men watched helplessly as The Festy disappeared into the night, its flame decals glowing under the streetlights.

Birko grinned, gripping the wheel. “I told you—The Festy doesn’t back down.”

Cinders smirked, catching her breath. “Nice driving, Mr. Birko. You might actually earn that snog at intermission.”

Birko nearly swerved. “Don’t get my hopes up too high, Cinders!”

The teen, still holding onto the reel for dear life, laughed nervously. “You guys are nuts. But… thanks for helping me.”

Piper let out a happy bark from the backseat. Birko gave her an approving nod through the rearview mirror.

“Team effort, kid,” he said, taking another swig of tea. “Just another night at the drive-in.”

Act 4: The Final Reel

The Festy tore through the empty suburban streets, its little engine roaring like a car twice its size. Birko grinned as he swerved around a corner, his driving uncharacteristically bold. “I hope those blokes brought a map,” he said. “Because The Festy’s about to leave them in the dust.”

Piper barked enthusiastically from the backseat, her tail wagging in rhythm with the bumps in the road. Cinders, meanwhile, was focused on the teenager, who clutched the film reel tightly as if it might disappear.

“Alright,” Cinders said, her tone sharp but kind. “We’ve gotten away for now, but you need to tell us everything. What’s so special about this reel that it’s got people chasing you?”

The teen took a shaky breath, holding up the canister. “It’s not just a movie. It’s a time capsule. My granddad used to own the drive-in, and he said this reel was proof of Brisbane’s wildest car race back in the ’70s. The best drivers from all over came to race, and someone captured the whole thing on film. It’s legendary.”

“Legendary?” Birko echoed, swerving slightly as he glanced back. “More like trouble-ary. You’ve got every shady character from here to the Sunshine Coast after you because of it.”

Cinders frowned. “If it’s that valuable, why not hand it over to a museum or an archive?”

“Because these guys don’t care about history,” the teen replied, his voice trembling. “They just want to sell it to the highest bidder. My granddad always said it belonged to the people, not crooks.”

Birko’s grip tightened on the wheel as he muttered, “Great. So now we’re playing keep-away with Brisbane’s answer to the Fast and the Furious.”

A Sudden Ambush

As The Festy sped toward a quieter industrial area, the headlights of a large ute suddenly appeared in the rearview mirror, its engine roaring ominously.

“Uh, guys?” Birko said, his voice tense. “Looks like our friends found us.”

Cinders turned to look, her face set in determination. “They must’ve guessed where we were headed. How fast can The Festy go?”

“Fast enough,” Birko replied, though his voice betrayed some doubt. “Probably.”

The ute gained ground, its horn blaring as it tried to force The Festy off the road. Birko swerved, narrowly avoiding a set of bins. Piper growled, sticking her head out the window and barking furiously at their pursuers.

“Hang on!” Birko shouted, taking a sharp turn into an industrial loading yard. The Festy’s tires screeched as it skidded to a halt behind a stack of shipping containers. He killed the engine, motioning for silence.

The ute rumbled into the yard moments later, its headlights sweeping the area like searchlights. The men climbed out, their boots crunching against the gravel as they moved between the containers.

“This is bad,” Birko whispered, gripping the thermos of his now-cold tea. “Like, ‘should’ve stayed home watching Jaws’ bad.”

Cinders placed a hand on his arm. “We’ve been in worse situations.”

“Name one!” Birko hissed.

Cinders smirked. “The Gold Train Ghosts.”

Birko sighed. “Fair point.”

Piper let out a low growl, her ears perked. Cinders crouched beside her, peering through the gap between two containers. The men were getting closer.

“We need a distraction,” Cinders whispered. “Something loud to draw them away.”

Birko glanced at The Festy, his expression pained. “I’ve got an idea, but you’re not gonna like it.”

The Festy’s Heroic Moment

Moments later, The Festy’s engine roared to life, its flame decals gleaming like a battle flag in the moonlight. Birko slammed the cassette deck, and The Angels’ “Comin’ Down” erupted through the speakers.

As the driving beat filled the night air, Birko gripped the wheel and sang loudly, improvising as he went:

“Looks like it’s comin’ down on me!
Down on me, down on me!
Never so many are watched by so few…
For so long, by Big Birko!”

Piper barked enthusiastically from the passenger seat, matching the energy of the song.

“What are you doing?” Cinders yelled from behind the containers, her voice half-incredulous, half-amused.

Birko adjusted his rearview mirror and grinned, the music pounding like a war drum. “Giving them a show they’ll never forget.” He leaned out the window, honking the horn in rhythm with the beat.

“Oi, you blokes!” he called, waving with exaggerated flair. “Come get me!”

The men’s heads whipped around, their faces contorting into fury. With a shout, they scrambled back into their ute, tires screeching as they roared after The Festy.

Birko’s Big Escape

On the main road, Birko weaved The Festy through sharp turns and back streets like a pro. The ute’s hulking frame lumbered behind him, its headlights glaring through the dust cloud the Festy left in its wake.

“Alright, Festy,” Birko muttered, glancing at the dashboard like he was psyching up a teammate. “They’re comin’ down on us, but we’re not going down easy.”

He turned up the volume as the chorus blasted again:

“Looks like it’s comin’ down on me!
Down on me, down on me!”

The ute closed in, but Birko spotted an upcoming roundabout, and his grin widened. “Let’s dance!”

He spun the wheel sharply, sending The Festy into a perfect drift, its tires screeching in a symphony of rebellion. The little car spun with practiced precision, a blaze of white and flames, while the ute tried—and failed—to follow.

With a final miscalculated swerve, the ute ploughed straight into a flower box on the median, the crash followed by an explosion of petals and dirt.

Birko peeked out the window, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “Looks like it came down on you, fellas!”

He pumped his fist in triumph, cranking the volume as the final chorus rang through the speakers:

“Looks like it’s comin’ down on me!
Down on me, down on me!”

Piper barked her approval, tail thumping against the seat as The Festy roared off into the night—triumphant, victorious, and still the scrappiest car in Bray Park.

Reunited

Birko rejoined Cinders and the teen near an old railway platform, The Festy purring softly as he pulled up.

“Miss me?” he asked, stepping out and brushing imaginary dust off his shoulders.

Cinders laughed. “You actually pulled it off?”

“Of course I did,” Birko replied, patting The Festy’s roof. “This beauty’s got moves.”

The teen held up the reel, his hands still trembling. “We need to find somewhere safe to store this. My granddad always said the State Library would preserve it.”

Cinders nodded. “That’s a smart plan. And I think we know someone who can help.”

Birko raised an eyebrow. “As long as it doesn’t involve another car chase, I’m in.”

As the group piled back into The Festy, Piper curled up in the backseat, letting out a contented sigh. Birko adjusted the rearview mirror, smirking. “Another mystery solved. Another night The Festy saved the day.”

“And you,” Cinders added, grinning.

Birko leaned back. “Obviously.”

The reel safely stashed, and the night quiet once more, the trio headed home, their trusty Festy leading the way.

Act 5: The Festy Rests

As dawn broke, The Festy rolled triumphantly into the driveway, its flame decals streaked with dust and glory. Birko climbed out, groaning dramatically as he stretched. “The Festy deserves a hero’s welcome, and I deserve a chiropractor.”

Cinders followed, cradling her empty Milo mug with a fond smile. “You wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

Birko gave the Festy an affectionate pat. “Rubber sharks, car chases, and criminal masterminds—throw in some popcorn and a blanket snog, and it would’ve been perfect.”

Cinders smirked. “Don’t get your hopes up too high, Mr. Birko. The Festy may be fast, but it’s no love machine.”

Birko chuckled, leaning down to scratch Piper behind the ears as she hopped out, tail wagging furiously. “That’s alright, Pipes. You’ll always be my best wingman.”

Piper barked happily and trotted off to patrol the lawn.

A Quiet Celebration

Inside the Birko Burrow, the trio settled in. Piper sprawled on the rug, thumping her tail lazily, while Cinders curled up on the couch with a fresh Milo.

At the kettle, Birko stared thoughtfully at his tea mug before grabbing a second tea bag.

“Going double-strength?” Cinders teased.

Birko stirred his tea with purpose. “Tonight was no night for weak tea. You should’ve seen that drift—The Festy practically pirouetted on that roundabout.”

“And Piper?” Cinders glanced at the snoozing Kelpie. “She choreographed the whole thing.”

Birko grinned, raising his mug. “To Piper, the MVP.”

Cinders raised her Milo. “And to The Festy—the little car that could.”

Reflecting on the Night

Sinking into his recliner, Birko held his tea like a trophy. “All that chaos for a movie reel. Who risks life and limb for grainy cars tearing up Brisbane streets in the ‘70s?”

“It was more than a reel,” Cinders said, her tone patient. “It was someone’s history.”

Birko grunted. “Normal people just watch the movie, eat popcorn, and sneak in a snog during intermission.”

Cinders smirked. “Still holding out for that snog, aren’t you?”

“Always,” Birko replied, grinning. “But maybe The Festy’s too flashy for romance.”

Cinders laughed. “One day, Mr. Birko. One day.”

The Festy’s Spotlight

Outside, The Festy stood proudly in the driveway, its flames catching the morning sun. Birko gazed out the window with pride. “The little car that could.”

“One day, they’ll build a statue of it,” Cinders teased.

“With me in the driver’s seat,” Birko added, grinning.

“And Piper barking in the passenger seat,” Cinders finished with a nudge.

“Obviously,” Birko said with mock seriousness.

The Calm After the Storm

As the TV hummed softly in the background, Birko began to nod off, his mug of strong tea balanced precariously on the table beside him. Cinders glanced over to see him already opening his phone, queuing up his favourite YouTube ASMR video: a soft-voiced woman unpacking her handbag.

“You’re hopeless,” Cinders said with a smile, pulling a blanket over him.

Birko’s voice mumbled sleepily. “Nothing like a whispering stranger and a zipper to calm the nerves…”

Piper stretched contentedly on the rug, letting out a satisfied yawn. Outside, Bray Park slowly came to life, its streets still quiet, its lawns untouched by the morning dew.

The Festy sat like a champion in its spot, flames and all, ready for the next adventure that might come knocking.

For now, though, everything was peaceful. Just the way it should be.

The End.

Stay tuned for the next adventure: The Crop Circle Conspiracy

Birko wakes up to find a massive crop circle in his backyard, right in the middle of his beloved lawn. Naturally, he assumes Intergalactic Lawn Grubs are to blame. But when shadowy government types (the “Men in Black”) start poking around Shadowbrook Crescent, and a strange green glow appears at night, things take an even weirder turn.

Is this an elaborate prank? A real alien visitation? Or does it all lead back to a rival gardener with a high-tech lawn obsession? Find out next time!