Jake picked up the house phone and dialed Malcolm's number.
"Hello?" Malcolm answered on the other end.
"Hey Malcolm, it's Jake. Do you want to go to Vegas?"
"Vegas?" Malcolm asked, completely confused by the sudden mention of it.
"What about Vegas?!" a sudden, surprised voice yelled in the background.
"Give me a minute," Malcolm said into the receiver before returning to the phone. "I'm back. What were you saying about Vegas?"
"Well, my dad, my uncle, and I are going to Las Vegas, and we have five extra plane tickets. I just wanted to know if you and your family would like to go."
"Really? Hold on, let me ask my dad."
The phone went silent for a few seconds as Malcolm explained the situation to his father.
"Yes!" an excited shout echoed through the phone.
"...he says yes," Malcolm answered.
"We'll see you there, bye!" Hal's voice suddenly boomed through the receiver as he snatched the phone from his son and immediately slammed it down on the hook.
Jake slowly lowered the receiver from his ear. "I didn't tell them where to meet us," he muttered, staring at the dead phone.
Back at the Wilkerson house, Hal was looking smugly at his son.
"What?" Malcolm asked, annoyed by the look on his father's face.
"You told me my prophetic dream was insane, and then bam, your friend has five plane tickets to Las Vegas. Don't you think they are connected?"
"I think there's another explanation, Dad."
Hal looked seriously at his son. "Do you also believe I have reality-bending abilities?"
"I meant it's a coincidence, Dad."
"Pfft, there are no coincidences, son," Hal dismissed with a wave of his hand.
Seeing Lois walk into the kitchen, Hal immediately rushed over to tell her the good news.
"Oh honey, you are not gonna believe this! Malcolm's friend has five extra plane tickets for Las Vegas, tomorrow!"
"Oh, that's great!" Lois said, pleasantly surprised. "What airport?"
"Huh?" Hal blinked, confused by the sudden logistical question.
"I mean, there are three airports nearby. Also, at what time is the flight?" Lois asked, her hands landing on her hips.
"Ummm... did he tell you the time and place, son?" Hal asked, turning slowly back to Malcolm.
"No, you hung up before he could tell me!" Malcolm snapped, exasperated by his father's impulsiveness.
Luckily, the phone rang a moment later. Jake had called them back and told them to meet at the Los Angeles International Airport at 7:00 AM.
Meanwhile, at the beach house, Alan was busy getting ready for the trip.
Jake stood in the doorway, watching as his father frantically overpacked the suitcases with travel-sized hand sanitizers, a portable humidifier, emergency sewing kits, and three different SPF levels of sunscreen.
"That's too much, Dad. I don't need five shirts for a two-day trip," Jake pointed out.
"You don't know that, son!" Alan defended himself, frantically rolling up another polo shirt. "What if you spill ketchup on one, tear another, and then get a massive nosebleed from the desert air? You have to be prepared for the environmental hazards of Nevada!"
Jake just let out a defeated sigh and let his dad pack the suitcases. It wasn't worth the argument.
Saturday morning arrived, and Alan drove them all the way to LAX. As they climbed out of the car with their luggage, Jake easily spotted the five Wilkersons standing near the terminal entrance.
"There they are," Jake pointed out to Alan and a half-asleep Charlie.
"Hi there!" Alan called out cheerfully as he walked over to greet them. "I hope you are feeling better, Lois."
Lois furrowed her brow, not fully understanding. "I'm sorry?"
"Oh, well, when Jake and Malcolm received the state science achievement award a couple of weeks ago, he told me you couldn't make the ceremony because you had come down with a severe case of highly contagious intestinal shingles."
Lois froze. Her spine went perfectly rigid. She slowly turned her neck toward Malcolm, who was aggressively scratching his neck and desperately avoiding his mother's gaze.
"Oh. Yes. Feeling much better," Lois said, forcing the words out through clenched teeth.
Of course, Jake knew exactly what had happened. Lois hadn't been sick; Malcolm just hadn't told her about the achievement ceremony because Lois had a terrible habit of publicly humiliating him at school events.
They quickly made their way through the terminal and boarded their flight. Miraculously, Reese and Dewey successfully managed to sneak an obese rabbit onto the plane hidden inside a duffel bag.
At the same time, Malcolm spent the entire flight sweating bullets, desperately trying to appease his mother and beg for forgiveness to no avail since Lois gave him the silent treatment all the way to Nevada.
Once they landed and gathered their bags, the two families prepared to split up to find their respective hotel rooms.
"Hey, Malcolm, take this," Jake said, pulling a pair of glossy tickets from his pocket and handing them over.
"What is this?" Malcolm asked, looking confused at the premium seating passes.
"Tickets for Boone Vincent," Jake answered smoothly.
"Who?" Malcolm asked, even more confused.
"Don't worry about it. Just give them to your mom. She'll like them," Jake answered mysteriously, patting Malcolm on the shoulder before turning to follow his dad and uncle into the casino lobby.
After checking in and leaving their suitcases in the rooms, Jake, Alan, and Charlie met back up with Lois and Malcolm in the lobby. Hal had immediately sprinted off toward the casino floor to find the specific slot machine from his "prophetic dream," while Reese and Dewey were in the hotel that was hosting a national rabbit-breeding convention.
"Hey, how did you know about my mom and Boone Vincent?" Malcolm asked, clearly bewildered by his mother's sudden, cheerful change in attitude and Jake's inexplicable knowledge.
"It's pretty obvious," Jake said, shrugging casually. "Last month, when she gave us a ride to the science fair, she had the car radio locked onto the adult-contemporary station. When a Boone Vincent song came on, she tapped her steering wheel perfectly to the beat. Statistically speaking, overworked mothers with high-stress households use the romanticized, baritone escapism of aging lounge singers as a psychological coping mechanism. It's textbook thing really."
Malcolm stared at him, slightly unnerved by the hyper-analytical breakdown.
Of course, that was a complete lie. Jake had just pulled it straight from Argus. But giving a faux-Sherlock Holmes deduction was infinitely better than saying, 'You are a fictional character in a sitcom, and I have an AI search engine from twenty years in the future magically implanted in my brain.'
"Anyway, we have a lot to do," Jake said, quickly changing the subject before Malcolm could think too hard about it.
They spent the rest of the afternoon exploiting the family-friendly side of Las Vegas. They rode the indoor roller coaster at the Adventuredome in Circus Circus, completely dominated the carnival games on the midway, and spent two hours eating massive, overpriced sundaes while watching the knights fight at Excalibur's Tournament of Kings.
By 9:30 PM, Jake was already tucked into bed in the hotel room, asleep, while Alan and Charlie were aggressively splashing on cologne and getting ready for a classic, adults-only Vegas night on the town.
...
Author note: Hello guys, lately I've been struggling a bit with the pacing of the story.
It's clearly stretching a bit, yet I don't know exactly where to hit the time skips. Once I know that, the chapters are going to be published back on schedule as always.
Thanks for reading anyway.