>Chapter Ten : "Aren't You Dead Yet?!" TOM: Dr. Jack Kevorkian's most used phrase. > >He spun to find himself staring down the maw of a .22 Darned Nearly >Recoilless Rifle. Widget had been standing on the outside ledge. Jürgen >stood next to her, holding a case of .22 rimfire cartridges. CROW: This week on "Safari, So Good", we join the hunt for the elusive red-nosed chipmunk! JOEL: I think a grain of happiness is even more elusive here. TOM: Elusive? Try extinct. > >"Would you believe me if I told you this thing will stop a cat?" Widget >asked mildly. CROW: [MAXWELL SMART] Would you believe....a dead cat? > >"Oh, I don't doubt that for an instant," Dale assured her, creeping JOEL: Out everyone as his head did a complete 360 around his body. >backwards. > >"It might even penetrate your skull. TOM: Fat chance. > Everyone back off." > >"We're wasting time, Widget," Gadget snapped, walking forward sternly. CROW: The mall closes at five. >"You want me. You've got me." TOM: I have to wonder how many fanboys have dreamed of Gadget telling them that very quote. > >"That's ridiculous," Monty snorted. "Gadget's not to blame because she >was a cuter baby than you were. [Everyone winces.] JOEL: Boy, Monty's just a natural diplomat when the situation is tense, isn't he? > I'm the one who dropped you. I owe you. TOM: [MONTY] Let's see... you grew up under an abusive, exploitative guardian who treated you horridly and forever scarred you mentally. So, say five bucks should cover it? >She doesn't." > >With two of his friends making themselves targets for the rodent >equivalent of a 150mm cannon shell, Chip had to do something. CROW: [CHIP] Who gets your stuff, Monty? Gadget, you *do* have a will, don't you? > "Wait!" >Chip screamed, probably to his friends. TOM: Maybe to his family. Maybe to that cute girl he met last week. Who knows? > "Widget, you know we'll be atop >of you before you can reload!" CROW: Must be chipmunk mating season. > >"I know," Widget smiled, pink eyes glittering. CROW: Ah, so this is how Widget gets all her boyfriends! TOM: Yep. Nothing turns on a male chipmunk more than seeing his teammate and close friend blown away in front of him. > Chip felt his heart drop. JOEL: Dale, however, was euphoric that he wasn't the one in danger anymore. > >"Hey, Widget," Gadget suddenly asked. "How do you JOEL: [GADGET] Get through the metal detectors at the airport? > damp the recoil of >that thing?" > >"Oh. Action/Reaction. The casing goes out the back." TOM: [WIDGET] While the bullet goes out the front. Are you really that stupid or just a good actor? > >Gadget hesitated, and pretended to make her First Big Mistake of the >day. CROW: [GADGET] I think I'll eat at Jack In The Box today. > >"Golly! How well does it work?" > >"Watch carefully," Widget hissed. "I'll show you." > >Gadget dropped an instant before the perfectly timed dramatic moment. TOM: If she dropped before the moment happened, how can it be "perfectly" timed? > >The explosion was incredibly loud, at least for mouse ears. Gadget heard >a sharp crack as the bullet whipped past her head. The shockwave of its >passage actually pushed her down. She had no idea how long it would take >to reload, so she turned the dive into a tackle, catching Widget on the >midriff, just before the recoil flipped them both out the window. JOEL: Uhm. The recoil was delayed long enough for Gadget to dive into Widget? Wouldn't have the *instantaneous* reaction flipped Widget over before Gadget could reach her? TOM: How many times to I have to remind you of the Nowak Principle? > >Gadget felt a sharp shock in her ankles, and a hiss of pain behind her. CROW: Followed by a stream of blood, as a the bullet that was intended for her took out Monty. >The Recoilless corkscrewed away. CROW: Up. Down. Sideways. Somewhere. TOM: Hey, Widget's "disarmed" now! Hah! > Widget slipped through her grasp: >Gadget grabbed frantically, gripped her wrists. The two sisters stared >at one another, Gadget head down; Widget face up. JOEL: [WIDGET] Well. This certainly isn't how my master plan was supposed to end up. > Gadget couldn't see >the courtyard past Widget; the sun was low, and it was hidden in shadow, >but she knew it was Too Far down. TOM: Hmm... if the grand hall was on the ground floor, and the window ledge was around the usual height from the ground, we can safely assume that Too Far down is equal to four feet. JOEL: Roughly. > >"Monterey!" Jürgen's voice. "Don't move!" A threat? CROW: Or an invitation? > >"Zipper!" ALL: Who? > Chip's voice. "String! Paper clip! Go!" > >Gadget turned her head to see what was going on. TOM: Chip's making a list for the office supply store, silly. > >Jürgen had her by the ankles. The weight of Gadget and Widget had pulled >him halfway off the ledge. CROW: Jettison the arm! That'll bring the weight to a manageable level! > Monty was laying across him, his weight >holding the smaller mouse secure and keeping him from slipping further. TOM: Yes, Monterey is really *that* fat. >Gadget felt herself smile. JOEL: It was a strange and terrifying experience, so she immediately went back to a pensive frown. CROW: Maybe this fanfic needs a smile transplant from _Altered Destiny_. TOM: They'd be rejected. > It wasn't a threat. > >A terrified Dale was leaning out the window, too far to be safe; his >arms were too short to reach her. CROW: [DALE] Hey Widget, can I borrow your extra arm? > Chip appeared, forcing a look of good >cheer. JOEL: [CHIP] Before we haul you up, Gadget, let's talk about your apparent indifference to my affections, shall we? > "I find that most problems can be solved with string and paper >clips," he winked. CROW: [CHIP] And if that doesn't do the job, a really strong mix of orange juice and arsenic. > >"Jürgen," Widget panted. She caught her breath. "Let go of us!" > >Gadget turned back, horrified, to see her sister's hate filled face. TOM: What was she expecting? Unbridled ecstasy? > >Jürgen gritted his teeth. "Widget! Find a toehold. Please." CROW: [JÜRGEN] If you die, who'll sign my paycheck? > >Widget's left arm bent at the elbow, and her foot found a bit of >crumbling concrete. A lock of her sister's golden hair fell into her >face. JOEL: [WIDGET] Hey, that smells nice. You use Pert? > >Widget drew closer. Gadget could feel her breath on her nose. CROW: This is starting to turn into my kind of fanfic.... > >"Jürgen," Widget gasped. "Please drop us." > >Jürgen's voice from behind Gadget. "Widget, I can't." TOM: [JÜRGEN] You know how hard it is to get hired after it gets out that you killed your last employer? > >Widget's eyes focused on her sister's. "I ..." CROW: [WIDGET] Think you could benefit from a breath mint. > Widget started. "I don't >want anything from you!" JOEL: [WIDGET] Take your precious housewarming present and go! > >Widget bit Gadget on the wrist. CROW: [makes cat fight noises] > >Gadget yelped and her hands flew open. > >Widget let go. She fell backwards and flipped once on the way down, >vanishing into shadow. Gadget and Jürgen screamed. TOM: [GADGET] My wrist! CROW: [JÜRGEN] My salary! > >=== CROW: Ah, that must be what Widget looked like after hitting the courtyard. > >Jürgen held Gadget tightly while Chip came down on Zipper's string and >grabbed her, shifting their weight to the line secured by a paper clip >bent into a hook. JOEL: [GADGET] Gee, guys, awfully nice of you to wait until Widget killed herself before coming down to help. > Dale, Monterey and Jürgen quickly hoisted them to >safety. Chip was still holding on to her TOM: Copping a feel. > when Jürgen took Gadget by the >hand, and started tying up her wrist with a handkerchief. > >"Gadget," he gasped. "It wasn't your fault. Just remember that. She >could have lived, even up till the last second, but..." CROW: Who wants to live in this unfeeling world? > >"Why didn't you drop me after she fell?" Gadget asked. The others looked >at Jürgen a little more warily, as though suddenly remembering he had >just sunk a cruise ship. TOM: Nonononono! It was the iceberg! The *iceberg*! Sheesh, you think they'd at least have figured it out from the ice cubes in the water.... > >Jürgen shrugged. "Her father loved you," he said. He pulled the knot on >the improvised bandage tight. JOEL: Just enough to completely cut off all blood flow to her hand. > Then he started to cry. CROW: [JÜRGEN] I just remembered -- I forget to tape "Jerry Springer" today! > >Monterey shook his head sadly. "Aw, mate..." TOM: [MONTY] Quit bein' such a whiney-baby. > >He sat down, and Gadget found herself moving to touch him. JOEL: Her fist connected solidly with his jaw. > People >aren't simple," he said. "You didn't see her cutting dolphins out of >tuna nets, talking whales out of beaching themselves." TOM: Probably because she *didn't* do those things. > >"Yeah, Chip snapped. "We just saw the side that hungered for Gadget's >death." CROW: You only get one chance to make a first impression, after all. > >"Someone's death, anyway," Monty said softly. TOM: Probably Nowak's. JOEL: Well... he *is* the one at fault, really, for putting her through that. > >"This isn't over yet," hissed a voice from out the window. CROW: A sequel's in the works??? ALL: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! > >They turned as one, with expressions running the gamut between joy, TOM: A really twisted version of that. >astonishment, and absolute disbelief. Widget had inflated her wetsuit >into a round ball, probably using a helium tank concealed under her >cape. CROW: Oh, you mean the one that was always blowing in the wind? Kinda screws up the concealment deal. > She was held in a spread eagle position by the swollen wetsuit, >her wrists and ankles barely protruding from the surface of the ball. TOM: Far be it for me to be *technical* here, but that should be "wrist". Mechanical limbs are a separate category. > >"My sister," she cried, slowly gaining altitude, JOEL: But not coherence. > "will die before these >eyes and she'll know - SHE'LL KNOW - that it is I, Widget Hackwrench, >who encompasses her doom!" JOEL: Wasn't that from _Dune_? TOM: Great. First Toto shows up and now this. CROW: If Sting appears, I'm leaving. TOM: Hope he's in the oiled loincloth. [Moment of silence. JOEL and CROW edge away from TOM.] > >"Auf Wiedersehen," Jürgen said, politely JOEL: Shoving the gaping Rangers off the edge. > shaking Monty's hand before >launching himself into the air to grab Widget by her tail. TOM: Completely canceling out the helium, and sending both him and Widget plummeting to their deaths. CROW: Oh yeah, down the incredible four feet from the window ledge. > They drifted >out towards the sea, while Widget laughed maniacally. JOEL: [WIDGET] I'm not only evil, I'm funny! My jokes are hilarious! > >There was a moment of silence. > >"Monty," Dale asked, "what exactly does it mean to 'encompass Gadget's >doom?'" TOM: [MONTY] Read _Final Curtain_ sometime. > >=== TOM: "That all men are created equal, except for the ones I own -" JOEL: Tom.... > >They were about one hundred fifty feet over the water. Widget let a >small amount of helium out of her balloon suit through a rubber valve, JOEL: How?! Her arms and legs are spread eagle, remember? What, she has prehensile nose hairs? TOM: That might explain how she controls her left arm. >to reduce their rate of climb. It made a noticeable sound. TOM: [makes an elephant call] > >She heard laughter, quickly suppressed, from below her. CROW: [WIDGET] Are you looking up my suit? > >"Jürgen," she snapped. "It's not funny. I'm just releasing some gas-" > >Jürgen's choked guffaw was louder this time. TOM: Yes, nothing cracks up a hardened wartime captain more than fart jokes. > >"Helium gas!" she snapped. > >"I'm sorry," he wheezed. > >"It's not funny," she muttered. CROW: [JÜRGEN] It's hysterical! Hardy har har!!! > >"No, ma'am. Albacore ALL: Baltimore! JOEL: This has been the one bright spot in this fanfic for me. > is beneath us. I believe Mr. Fenton is flying up >with a line." CROW: [JÜRGEN] Hopefully, it'll be better than the lines we've had so far. > >"It's a perfectly normal sound." > >"Yes, ma'am." CROW: [JÜRGEN] Whatever you say, psycho-boss. No argument here. Nope. > >Jürgen gripped the line, which was attached to a winch on the Albacore. >It was short work to reel them in. Four burly stokers held Widget down >as she opened the valve, releasing the pressurized helium in one long, >shattering blast that ripped through the twilight. TOM: [JÜRGEN] Anymouse got a match? Hahaha! > >She looked suspiciously from one crewman to the other. They all stood >with studied and serious expressions. JOEL: Too dumb to understand the reference to flatulence. TOM: Or too smart. >She couldn't stand it anymore. She fell over backwards, howling with >laughter. JOEL: So if they got nightmares from her smile alone, that laugh should drive them into the bowels of horrific slumber. > >Chapter Eleven : As The Table Turns TOM: What do Lazy Susans have to do with anything? > >"'Rescued Rangers'," Chip grumbled, reading a headline in the morning >paper. "'Crew of fishing boat repaid a favor to the Rescue Rangers >yesterday -'" CROW: By beating the stuffing out of them for rescuing all the fish from their nets last week. > >The picture showed the five of them standing knee deep in sardines, TOM: Considering the size comparison, they were standing in a whopping three fish. JOEL: Fish were really biting that day, eh? CROW: Something bites here, at least. >Dale, Monty and Zipper grinning at the camera, Gadget staring off into >the distance, and Chip looking thoroughly, thoroughly annoyed. CROW: [CHIP] Isn't this fanfic *over* yet? > >Dale dropped his fork and put on a face of mock horror. "I didn't see >you volunteering to swim back from Trellis Island," Dale grumbled. > >"Dale, don't you feel even slightly embarrassed?" > >"No, Chip. I feel dry. I feel those fishermen were proud to do us a good >turn." Zipper buzzed agreement. TOM: Who said that? Dale or Zipper? JOEL: Maybe Casper is on shore leave.... > >"Did any of ya see Gadget this mornin'?" Monterey asked, bringing >another plate of fried cheese to the table. BOTS: [CHIP 'N' DALE] Did we ever! > >Chip and Dale looked at one another and blinked. Apparently, they >hadn't. > >"Morning, guys," Gadget said, entering the room sleepily. She was in her >usual lavender overalls. CROW: Rather than her Day-glo Orange overalls. Those were reserved for "special" occasions. > >"You look tired, luv," Monty said slowly. "Been workin' on somethin'?" JOEL: [MONTY] Or were ya just frettin' over how life sucks again? > >"Hit a little snag. Give me a hand, Monty?" JOEL: [applauding] TOM: [MONTY] There. Don't say I never gave you nothin'. > >"Have some coffee first, luv." > >"Now, Monty." She smiled. "Please?" > >Monty looked uncomfortably at the chipmunks and the fly, CROW: [singing] It's chipmunks and the fly, chipmunks and the fly, chipmunks and the fly, fly, fly, fly.... > who were trying >not to look worried. JOEL: Guys... you don't think... Gadget and Monty? TOM: C'mon, Joel, he's way too old for her. Even Nowak wouldn't do that. > >Gadget started climbing the domino stairs to the hangar. TOM: The hanger is actually easier accessible through the kitchen, but why let that little piece of logic interfere with the reader's suspension of happiness? > Monty looked at >the door to her workshop. Not in your workshop? he wondered. CROW: Can you see the door to the workshop from the front door? TOM: No. Why? CROW: Doesn't it seem odd that Nowak knows all about mechanics on a rodent scale, but doesn't even know what the general layout of the Ranger HQ is? TOM: No. Why? > >"What can I help ya with, luv?" Monty asked. "Not a technical problem, >surely." TOM: Technicalities? Here? Perish the thought! > She hadn't said one word about her sister last night. JOEL: He was sure that the steady stream of profanities was caused by something else. > He >expected she wanted to have it out with him. He was dreading that. CROW: He hating beating up women. Well, sometimes. > >The light in the hangar was dim, JOEL: It's dim no matter where you are in the Nowakverse. > but Monty could easily see the latest >addition. TOM: [MONTY] A slot machine? Your mother really *did* go back to Vegas, didn't she? > It was longer than he was tall. A folded 12-inch parachute. >Ducted propeller with vertical and horizontal vanes, connected somehow >to two compasses. Tucked into it was something streamlined, glittering >with brass, so big he didn't recognize it at first. JOEL: [MONTY] Uhm, nice door handle, luv. > >"Gadget," he said quietly. "That's a .50 caliber machine gun round." CROW: Excuse me? When did the Ranger HQ get an ammo closet? > >"14.5 mm Soviet, actually," she corrected. "It's almost twice the muzzle >energy-" TOM: [GADGET] Of a slingshot. > >"And the rest, let me guess. It's a magnetic homing torpedo, isn't it?" JOEL: [GADGET] No, silly, it's our new cappuccino maker! > >"Air dropped," Gadget chuckled. "Guided in two axes, stabilized in roll. >I need advice on how to use it." TOM: Uh... you just said how to. You drop it from the air, into the water. CROW: It hits something. Something goes boom. > >Monty shook his head slowly. "Gadget, don't." > >"You've done it before." Her voice was hard. JOEL: Her conscience was dead. > >"Leave Widget to drown?" he asked sarcastically. TOM: And you did a rather poor job of it, now didn't you? > >"Sunk submarines." TOM: When?? Oh, during his time in the war? If he *was* in World War II, he'd be at least 60 by now, and he's *not* that old! JOEL: Uh, Tom? Buddy? Ease up a little... it's okay.... TOM: [grumbling] > >Monty was feeling faint. CROW: [MONTY] Forgot... to take my medication... this mornin'.... > He put his hand out to steady himself - almost >on the torpedo. He jerked his hand away. JOEL: And fell flat on his face. > "Gadget, luv, you let your left >brain take over. I can't believe you've thought this through. You can't >-murder - your own sister." TOM: [MONTY] That's *my* job! > >"It doesn't matter who she is, Monty," her voice came softly. CROW: [GADGET] I just have to kill *somebody*! > He turned >and saw her, lit from behind. JOEL: Oh, in the "dim" hangar? > "She's threatening my friends. My ... >family. JOEL: What family? CROW: Maybe she means the one from _Sisters_. TOM: In that case, Widget would be doing Gadget a favor. > I lost my family before. CROW: [GADGET] I never should have left them in that DeCon testing lab. > I'm not going to lose it again." JOEL: Not to worry, then, seeing as how you *already* lost it. > She >shook her head. "Not even if I have to kill her. Will you help me?" JOEL: You know, guys, I don't think Gadget has smiled at all in this fanfic.... TOM: Wait. She did after the deathtrap idea fell apart. CROW: Oh, big whoop. One smile after over ten chapters. TOM: Well... they're short chapters. JOEL: Yeah. Packed full of heart-stopping turmoil and angst. Yippee-skip. > >"I promised your father I'd take care of her." His voice was determined. TOM: Monterey Jack. Hitmouse for the Mob. > >"Well, Monty, help me take care of her." Her voice was mocking. JOEL: Gadget Hackwrench. Spokesmouse for A.A. -- Angst Anonymous. > >"Gadget..." CROW: [MONTY] When I told you to "get a life", this *isn't* what I had in mind! > >"Please." TOM: [GADGET] I always envied Lady MacBeth's spotted hands. > >"Gadget," he snapped. "You sound just like her." > >Gadget was breathing fast and hard. "I. Do. Not." JOEL: [CHIP] Hey! Why do we hear Widget in the workshop?! > >"Gadget," he hesitated. "This is Uncle Monty talkin'. I love you like a CROW: [MONTY] Future candidate to nurse me in my old age. >daughter. But there's this dark side to you, luv. Deathtraps for >salesmen, remember? You hardly ever let it out. Maybe Widget has a >compassionate side. That she hardly ever lets out." JOEL: Oh, you're deep, Monty. CROW: Well, he's full of it, at least. > >"So?" > >"So Geegaw Hackwrench's daughter is standin' in front o' me, askin' me >t' help kill Geegaw Hackwrench's other daughter. I won't 'ave a part in >this, young lady. You're tired, you're overworked, you're stressed. An' >maybe the technical challenge of buildin' - that - has bloinded you. TOM: Blinded you, even. >Otherwise you'd never even consider this." JOEL: Unless you were in.... TOM: [drumroll] ALL: The Nowakverse! CROW: In which case it'd be top priority! > >The only sound Monty heard for a while was Gadget's hissing breath. Like >a cat. Then, to his immense relief, she said, "Maybe you're right, >Monty. I'll go to bed, and think it all over." TOM: [MONTY] Duh, sure, duh. Like, duh, you'd never consider faking this, duh, to get me to turn my back at a later time, duh, so you can go kill Widget. Duh. > >An explosion of chipmunk chatter came from downstairs. Monty and Gadget >glanced at one another dubiously. JOEL: [GADGET] Five bucks says Dale wins this one. CROW: [MONTY] Yer on! > >"That don't sound like an argument," Monty observed. > >"I think you're right, Monty." JOEL: [GADGET] Why don't you go investigate, while I stay here and, uh, make sure that the torpedo doesn't go anywhere? Go on, go. Go. > >Monty and Gadget jumped into the slide that took them down quickly to >the main level. The chipmunks were staring at the second page of the >paper, talking simultaneously and so quickly either would have been >incomprehensible. CROW: So in other words, their normal manner of speech. > >Ignoring them, Gadget slipped between them and looked at the paper. Soon >she was speaking so quickly she was incomprehensible. CROW: In other words, *her* normal manner of speech. >By now deeply disturbed, Monty turned the paper JOEL: Actually, I think Monty was deeply disturbed long before now. > around so he could read >it. TOM: [MONTY] "Mets retire from baseball. Open up new bowling alley." > >"'Submersible Research Vessel Albacore TOM: _Research_ vessel?! JOEL: Hmm. It's painted black, it's got periscopes, at least four torpedo tubes. Must be a research vessel. > ... docks in City?'" he read with >astonishment. "'Commander and owner to offer testimony in sinking of the >Minuscule?!'" CROW: [MONTY] "Widget to replace Pierce Brosnan as 007"?! > >"It says they were in the bay when the Minuscule hit an iceberg and >sank," Chip went on. "They took the pictures in the paper." TOM: [GADGET] Golly, they look more like ice cubes to me. > >"But they sank the Minuscule!" Monty yelled. > >"We can't prove that!" Chip yelled back. "We can't even testify to it! >Did any of them admit to it?" > >It hit Monty like a blow. "Well, no." JOEL: [MONTY] They showed us that home movie of it, but they never actually *said* anything. Blast those subtitles! > >"So we just assumed they sank the ship. All they did was try to kill >us." JOEL: Isn't that still a capital offense? TOM: Nowak principle, remember? JOEL: Sorry. > >"Oh, well," Monty shrugged sarcastically. > >"The local courts don't like to get involved in family disputes," Dale >said thoughtfully. CROW: Oh, Mr. Diapers-Make-Me-Invisible is being smart again? > >As Monty stared at the paper, it suddenly tilted towards him. He jumped >back as it came crashing over. CROW: [MONTY] I'm being attacked by newsprint! Argh! > >Monty flashed an angry gaze at them. "Who flipped the table?" he asked. > >Chip and Dale looked at one another suspiciously. "Sorry," Gadget >apologized. "Reflex." TOM: Gadget always flips tables when reading the paper? JOEL: No wonder the other Rangers don't like doing the crossword with her. > >"If we sank th' Albacore in dock," Monty observed slowly, "there's not >much chance of anyone gettin' hurt." CROW: [MONTY] We can't have that, now, can we! > >"I was just thinking that," Gadget said, disappointed. > >"Too risky," Chip said, missing the point entirely. "Besides, we need >proof they sunk Minuscule." JOEL: Just get Bernie and Gidget. They bi-located to the sub's bridge right before the ram, remember? > >"If I know sailors," Monty stated, CROW: [MONTY] Which I don't. > "they'll be lookin' for a place to >blow off steam..." TOM: The Laundromat? > >"And only too willing," Chip agreed with a wicked grin, "to tell all to >a pretty face..." > >Gadget and Dale glanced sideways at one another. > >Chapter Twelve : The Spying Game JOEL: I spy with my little eye, something that starts with... God, this is depressing. BOTS: [depressed] _Under the Bridge_. > >The two guards at Fat Cat's Casino had pretty much seen and done it all, CROW: With the exception of the cribbage tournament last week. >but nothing had prepared them for this vision of loveliness. She moved >with a delicate step, and as she flowed past them she favored them with >a smile which held the promise of pleasures unnamed. TOM: Free bumper stickers. > Mesmerized, Herbie >the JOEL: Love Bug. > rat and Prickles the porcupine held the doors open for her and were >rewarded with a wink that made them blush scarlet. CROW: Really tough guards, all right. > >"Dale got in," Gadget said briefly, staring through a night vision scope >concealed in a remote headquarters cleverly disguised as a garbage can. JOEL: Yeah, right. They only used that so Zipper would shut up. BOTS: Who? >She turned on the tape recorder attached to Dale's concealed microphone. > >"Good," Chip said abstractly. "In case he screws up, let's prepare a hot >extraction." CROW: [CHIP] In other words, let's get ready for the inevitable. > >"Roger," said Monterey gleefully, patting the outside of a small >vehicle. "The Exterminator is go." TOM: Needing extra "muscle", the Rangers call up Arnold Schwarzenegger! > >=== > >The Casino was busier than usual. JOEL: The bingo tables were packed. > About nine from Albacore ALL: Singapore! JOEL: Just thought we'd improvise a bit.... > were there, >mostly enlisted men with a few officers. A boisterous ragtime tune was >playing on the piano. Widget was at a corner table, staring at the wall >and looking bored. TOM: [WIDGET] I think the guys in engineering were playing a gag on me. Watching paint dry really isn't that exciting.... > >Jürgen put down two mugs of frosty dark root beer. JOEL: [JÜRGEN] You're no real drinks! Back in my country, the root beers there would wipe the floor with you! > Widget looked up, >distracted, and smiled. CROW: [WIDGET] I like employees that suck-up. > >"Thanks," she said. She smiled slightly, and casually reached out with >her left hand. JOEL: Tearing his arm off with an evil titter. > She had been practicing with cups of coffee on Albacore, >but the root beer mug was not only bigger, it was filled to overflowing >and the head was sliding down the side. Jürgen watched, fascinated, as >she lifted the root beer and, holding it steady, sipped at the edge. TOM: [JÜRGEN] I wonder if she thought about working at carnivals doing this. People would pay big money to see this. >Jürgen had never noticed before how complex a simple action like that >was, how the shoulder and elbow moved together, how the wrist rotated >fractionally to keep the payload steady while her elbow moved it to her >lips. When she returned the root beer to the table, touching the >original ring it had made, Jürgen noticed something slightly unnatural >in the action - perhaps the mug wasn't quite even with her lips, and her >arm replayed the original motion in perfect reverse. CROW: Or maybe it was that the tabletop had spontaneously burst into flames. > Still, they smiled; JOEL: Must be the latest drinking game; first person to stop smiling pays for the tab. >it was a remarkable show of proficiency and a stunning victory against >the forces of bad luck which made the fight necessary in the first >place. [Pause] TOM: Was that supposed to be a glimmer of hope? JOEL: I don't know. It's been so long since we've seen one, I don't think I can recognize them anymore. > >"Bitte," CROW: [JÜRGEN] Bite me. > Jürgen replied. "You seem preoccupied." TOM: Her master plan to break her sister's spirit failed and you think she's *preoccupied*? >Widget shrugged. "I don't know. I think coming here was a mistake for >me. I've never really been into this sort of thing," she said, looking >around. JOEL: [WIDGET] Public floggings are so much more entertaining. > >"Gambling?" Jürgen asked. He tasted the root beer. Not a patch on the >stuff at home of course, but pretty good. TOM: Well, considering the stuff in Germany is actual beer, that was an exceedingly stupid observation. > >"Well, that's part of it," Widget agreed, trying to sort it out in her >mind. "Pleasure, I guess. It's not something I've ever liked much." CROW: Now *that* was *big* surprise, oh yeah. > >"Surely that's a contradiction," Jürgen pointed out. "What you really >mean is that you don't like the things people expect you to like. JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Palm Pilots. "Seinfeld". BMWs. You're more into inflicting pain. > Do you >find this place disappointing?" CROW: Well, we find this fanfic depressing. > >Widget looked over. "Yes, that's the word. How did you know?" JOEL: [JÜRGEN] I always have a pocket thesaurus handy. > >Jürgen chuckled. "There's this place in Hamburg, 'Grosse Katze.' When I >was a little boy outside and looking at the closed doors, it always >seemed to me to be a place of wonders. When I was old enough I put on my >cadet's uniform, slicked back my fur, and entered the Magical Palace of >Solomon." He smiled. "Loud noise, cigarette smoke, drunks, and too much >lipstick. I should have gone hiking." JOEL: [JÜRGEN] But then I wouldn't have been cool, so I got trashed. TOM: No, Joel, I think Nowak's trying to establish Jürgen was part of the "Wandervogel" youth movement which opted out of the political process leaving the field clear for extremists. In other words, he's not a Nazi. JOEL: Mice of the Weimar Republic. I hate this fanfic. > >Widget was looking at him, head resting at an angle on the arm she had >built, CROW: The "Grand ol' arm that Widget built"? > a smile on her face. "Very perceptive." CROW: Is it just me, or does Nowak seem to be making Widget happier than he makes Gadget? > >"One thing you learn when you get my age. You tend to over-value simple >goals. If I just get the Ritterkreutz or this job or lose some weight -" >Widget laughed "-then everything will be fine and I'll be happy forever. >But it doesn't work that way. You can't plan your own salvation." TOM: [JÜRGEN] So just kill yourself now and get it over with. Here, I'll even help you. > >"You didn't come over here to cheer me up." JOEL: [WIDGET] Well, forget it -- I don't date my employees, cabin boy. > >Jürgen smiled. "Why not? Isn't that worth walking across a room for?" TOM: It always is for a brown-noser. > >Widget smiled back at him. "It is to me. Thanks for the root beer." CROW: You know guys, I bet he drugged her root beer with some kind of aphrodisiac. TOM: Hey, he *is* a sailor. > >"You're from around here, aren't you?" JOEL: Jürgen makes his move. > >"Yes," she said, her voice guarded. > >"Could I impose on you to be a native guide?" TOM: [JÜRGEN] Better yet, just naive enough to fall for me? CROW: Now I *know* he slipped her some Spanish Fly! JOEL: El Zippo? BOTS: Who?? > >For a moment, Widget was distracted by Mr. Calvert, or more properly, >Mr. Calvert's dancing partner, a chipmunk with long red hair who was >poured into a matching dress. TOM: That chunky, huh? > There seemed to be a dispute as to who was >leading, with the smashing female chipmunk preferring to stay close to >Widget and Jürgen's table, CROW: Begging for table scraps. > while Mr. Calvert was trying to steer them >back toward the dancing floor. > >"C'mon, Dale," Chip muttered, drumming his fingers. "get him bragging >about sinking ships..." > >"Submarine?" Dale asked brightly. "Didja ever sink any ships?" JOEL: If Dale is always this hopeless, why does he always wind up in these jobs? CROW: Maybe the other Rangers aren't as smart as we thought they were. > >Chip slapped his hand over his eyes. Gadget flinched, and Monty shook >his head sadly. > >Tramp, Widget thought, annoyed. But the hussy did remind her... TOM: [WIDGET] I think we should ban aphrodisiac supplies for all sailors on leave. CROW: [JÜRGEN] What?! I think not! > "I don't >think we should stay in town very long. We only came here to sell those >pictures of Minuscule sinking to a newspaper. " > >"And to supply," Jürgen pointed out. "Where else can you get bagels and >cheesecake this good? CROW: Fat Cat's casino sells cheesecake and bagels? JOEL: Gee, and I thought they made all their revenue from gambling and criminal rackets. > Besides, how can you dock in a town like this and >not give the crew leave?" TOM: [WIDGET] Kill them. > >"There's that," Widget agreed. > >"Hey," Gadget said, alarmed. "That's Widget's voice." CROW: [GADGET] Where'd her body go? > >"He's using the directional mike," Chip guessed. > >"Well, we're a research vessel," CROW: All those torpedo tubes are for peaceful use only. > Mr. Calvert said uncertainly. "But >we're armed against pirates, and we did sink a few down in the >Caribbean." (see Widget Hackwrench Sinks Some Pirates in the Caribbean) JOEL: She was sinking tourists at Disneyland? >He was wondering why his beautiful chipmunk lass was now dancing back >and forth in a straight line, hopping on one foot, the other held >stiffly out parallel with the floor. CROW: So much so that he forgot all about why the "lady" had hair on the back of her knuckles, had her fingernails cut short, and why she had five-o'clock shadow. TOM: Does that work for chipmunks? > Perhaps she was loopy, which might >or might not be good news for his leave. JOEL: That's it. I'm reaching my personal limit. CROW: Cutting a little close to home, there? JOEL: Watch it. > Actually, since Dale had >insisted on a sleeveless dress, his directional mike was strapped to his >lower leg, the top at his ankle, pointed at Gadget's sister. > >"I'm afraid someone might realize that cut in the bottom of Minuscule >was made by us," Jürgen said in a low voice. TOM: Then why was he just supporting the idea of them hanging around for a while? > >There was cheering in the garbage can. JOEL: [CHIP] This fruit is only *half* covered in mold! Whoo-hoo! > >"They'll realize it anyway when they salvage the vessel," Widget agreed. >"They'll know pretty soon it was a metal saw blade and not an iceberg." JOEL: [BADGER] Oh no you don't -- you're not bringing us back into this! It was ice cubes! Ice cubes, I say! > >"Still, it will be a few days before they realize that, and if we leave >before tomorrow evening, it'll look suspicious," Jürgen pointed out. CROW: [JÜRGEN] So let's just hang around until we're caught. >"Don't you have any good memories of this city?" he asked her with a >smile. > >Widget looked off into the distance. "Well, there's TOM: [WIDGET] The annual One-Armed Byronic Female Mice convention. That's fun. > an aircraft carrier >docked on the west side. When I was young, I found a way into the >engine room -" CROW: [WIDGET] Maybe I should have waited until it was off. I probably would still have my real legs today. > >Gadget hissed. "She used my secret entrance into my engine room?" her >palms were on the control panel in front of her, and she was pushing >herself into a sitting position. CROW: Huh? When did Gadget hang out in an aircraft carrier? JOEL: Probably the same time Dale was studying to be a psychologist. TOM: And Monterey was serving in the Navy. [GYPSY Pops in.] GYPSY: http://r-style.sci-nnov.ru/~shredder/. [GYPSY leaves.] TOM: [dubiously] Uh-huh. Thanks, Gypsy. > >"Blimey," Monty muttered, straining to hear. > >" - And I was so in awe of it all, this gigantic steel cathedral," >Widget went on in hushed tones, "all these parts, everything fitting >together. I knew I had to keep coming back, to understand it all. It's >pretty silly, really," she chuckled. TOM: [WIDGET] But if you laugh I'll tear your throat out with my teeth. > >"No," Jürgen shook his head. "I think we all have our private temples." CROW: [JÜRGEN] I have one to the Devil. Would you like to see it? > >"I'd like to show it to you," Widget said softly. She put her hand on >the table, and accidentally covered his hand with hers. TOM: So tell me, Joel, as a representative of mammals, would *you* want to resist the advances of your highly psychopathic and mentally unstable boss? JOEL: Offhand, I'd have to say no. > >"Aw, c'mon, ya big lug," Monty said out loud. "Tell 'er ya love 'er." > >Chip turned from looking at Gadget and started at Monty in horror. "I >meant 'im," Monty explained quickly. "I, uh, mean-" > >Gadget was oblivious. JOEL: In short, her normal state of being. > >Dale thought it best to leave. Jürgen's taped confession was what he was >after and he had to sneak away before something happened. CROW: Like that awkward instance with Gadget's clothes. > But he wanted >to leave his dancing partner something to remember him by, so when Mr. >Calvert dipped him, he closed his eyes and puckered up. JOEL: The scary part is that Nowak seems to think Dale *enjoys* this.... CROW: Hmm. I wonder if he read _9 1/2 Chipmunks_, too.... > >Dale's wig dropped softly to the floor. Dale waited for the kiss that >didn't come. TOM: But boy, did the fists rain in. > Conversation and noise slowly died. Then he noticed his >head felt colder. He opened his eyes. He didn't want to, but he opened >his eyes. JOEL: His little fantasy world crashing down around him. > >"Aw, man, again?" asked a bouncer rat. CROW: Oh, you mean Herbie? JOEL: With the way Nowak dismissed him so soon after naming him, Herbie must be related to Zipper. TOM: Who's -- oh nevermind. > "Look, buddy, the place you want >is down the street-" > >"A spy!" Mr. Calvert cried out, and dropped Dale. CROW: I spy something with my little eye, that starts with "transvestite". > >"It's a Rescue Ranger! Call the boss!" cried a waitress. > >"I'm not a spy," Dale tried to explain. "Dressing like this, uh, makes >me feel comfortable." JOEL: Hey, it worked with J. Edgar Hoover. CROW: And Ed Wood. > >Widget snatched her hand away and stood, leaning on the table. Her root >beer crashed to the floor. TOM: Why? Because it could! > "GET HIM!" > >Dale was promptly rendered immobile under a pile of submariners, and >tied with ripped tablecloth. Efficiently, he was tossed onto shoulders >and rushed towards the door. Until Prickles stepped in, barring the way. CROW: [PRICKLES] Don't forget to fill out your comment cards, please. > >"Durch die Fenster! Mach schnell!" Jürgen yelled before he thought it >through. JOEL: Which is okay, seeing as how nobody ever listened to him. > >"What he say?" JOEL: See? > >"Don't you speak German?" > >"Out the window! Hurry!" Widget translated. TOM: So if the crew doesn't speak German, doesn't that create problems when Jürgen gets excited? CROW: Nah, they just mutiny at that point. > >Unfortunately, there were no windows. JOEL: Aside from the dozens that lined the walls near the ceiling. > Fat Cat's elevator opened, and the >corpulent feline slid gracefully into the casino. "What's this about >wanting to leave?" he purred. TOM: [FAT CAT] You haven't tried our buffet yet! > >Widget stepped around the table, and stared up into the cat's face. >"We're taking him as a hostage." CROW: Seeing as how Dale's tied up and trussed like a pig, let's hope it's not how you take home friends. > >"I think not. The Rescue Rodents and I have much ... hisssstory between JOEL: Fat Cat? Sounds more like Kaa. >us. This isn't your casino." > >"We caught him," she said stubbornly. TOM: [WIDGET] Finders keepers, losers weepers! Nyah nyah nyah! > >"You're lucky you're a customer, mouse," said Fat Cat. He delicately >lifted Dale from off the shoulders of the Albacore crewmen, and placed >him on his feet in front of Prickles. Dale hopped quickly into the CROW: First place at the hopscotch competition. >elevator, goaded by occasional encouragement from Prickles. Dale's yelps >were cut off by the closing elevator door. > >With one leap, Widget was clutching the ends of Fat Cat's mustache. With >her boots on his collar bone, she scowled at the much larger animal. JOEL: You know, this is pretty stupid, even for Miss Hate here. >"Listen kibble-breath," she snarled, "it wouldn't be the first time I've >seen the inside of a cat. I kinda get...stuck in the throat." CROW: Gee, I wonder if Widget has met Ivana yet? JOEL: Hey, Widget *could* be Ivana for all we know.... > >"My apologies for playing the race card," Fat Cat said immediately. He >leaned to whisper at a henchman. "Do mice get rabies?" he asked. JOEL: Saying this with Widget still on his collarbone probably wasn't the best way to ease tensions. > >"I think what you have there is a living definition of the word," the >henchman immediately replied. CROW: [HENCHMAN] So kill her before she reproduces. TOM: And on that happy thought, let's get out of here. [Door sequence is run in reverse.] [SoL] [TOM and JOEL are at the counter, reading a book that JOEL is holding. We can see the title "No." on the cover. JOEL flips the last page, and closes the book.] TOM: Hmm. I don't know, Joel. I thought the first one was better. JOEL: Sequels are seldom as good as the original. [CROW enters, loose bits of metal, cloth, and various other pieces of debris covering him.] CROW: Uh, Joel? Can I have some help over here, please? [TOM and JOEL look at each other with a worried expression.] JOEL: Uh, sure thing, pal. [He follows CROW off to the side. Cambot cuts to the side of the ship as CROW and JOEL enter. Something large is in the background, covered with a tarp.] CROW: I need some help with this project I'm working on. JOEL: What is it? CROW: It's under that tarp. [JOEL moves over and pulls the tarp off. A large cardboard baler is revealed.] JOEL: What is *this* for? We can't spare our cardboard, you know that. CROW: It's not for cardboard, Joel! It's for my sister! JOEL: Your sister? CROW: Yes! I know it sounds insane, but I have to murder her! I can't stand her! JOEL: Your sister? CROW: Joel, this may be hard for you to believe, but there's an intense dark side to me. Underneath this seemingly good-natured shell of a 'bot is a heart of evil that would make the Mads cower in terror. JOEL: Your sister? CROW: Yes! My sister! Why do you keep asking that?! JOEL: Because, you don't have a sister, Crow. [Pause] CROW: Oh, well then forget it. I'm not really as evil as I thought. JOEL: That's good to know, buddy. [Sounds of voices are heard offstage.] JOEL: That's Gypsy and Crow. CROW: Sounds like trouble! [They rush offstage. Cambot cuts back to the counter, where GYPSY and TOM are looking over a newspaper spread out on the table and talking sheer nonsense as CROW and JOEL enter.] TOM: Do green pants not of skin?! Where not thine milk buckets of blood! GYPSY: Shoehorns frolicking snowflakes within Indiana! Basketballs painting tulips of mother's girdle! JOEL: [moving between them] Hey hey hey! What's going on? CROW: Yeah, why are you two talking like a computer technical support person? TOM: It's the news! Take a look! It's so mind-bendingly bizarre that normal logic is scared away from your brain! [JOEL leans over and reads the headline aloud.] JOEL: "Deep 13 hires new software tester. Mads ecstatic to find someone who was both technical and depressing enough for the job". [Pause] CROW: The age of apocalypse is here.... [Commercial sign flashes.] JOEL: We'll be right back... be afraid. Be very afraid.