The Wandering Feather (Rescue Rangers)

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Twelve continued...

“Well, now that we have that cleared up,” June declared in reference to Chip’s query before inquiring of Gadget, “What is plaguing your mind?”

“I was hoping you might have some idea why my mother had to leave her home,” Gadget pointed out, “All I’ve ever heard is that she had a falling out with her in-laws.” There was a slight pause before she added, somewhat sheepishly, “And, maybe why she never got back in touch with me and Dad.”

June leaned back on the couch as she tried to recollect the events of twenty-seven years ago. “I can help you with that first part, at least,” the wizened matriarch began, “Uh, Chip, could you get me a cup of water, dear?” Once the chipmunk returned with the refreshment, June continued, “Most of the details about how this got started I got from one of my nieces, she was a friend of your mother. Anyhow, one of their friends decided to haff a little get-together just for her immediate circle of friends, unfortunately, Carol- your sister’s aunt, your mother’s sister-in-law- decided to infite herself and her sisters, a set of twins that followed her efrywhere. Shortly after they arrifed, the good-times left.

“Your mother and my niece had tried to console their hostess, who had retreated to her bedroom to cry. From what my niece told me your mother was particularly upset about all this... she and Carol neffer really got along in the first place, if anything they only barely tolerated each other. When they left their friend to return to the party, such as it was, your mother told her sisters-in-law, ‘You weren’t infited, you’re not wanted here and the owner of the residence wants you to leafe.’ My niece told me that their friend had neffer asked to haff Carol and company to leafe...”

“She shouldn’t have had to,” Chip remarked, “Something like that kind of goes without saying.”

“There’s no doubt she wanted them to leafe,” June replied, “But she wouldn’t haff tried to press the issue, efen through a second party... she didn’t want trouble, and that’s exactly what Carol was going to cause if anyone tried to get her to leafe.” Turning back to Gadget, she continued, “But your mother had just had enough of Carol’s attitude and something was going to happen. Carol spouted off something to the effect of ‘We’ll see about that!’ and began to head on back to the bedroom, at which point your mother blocked her path and all but ordered Carol and her sisters to leafe.” June shook her head to emphasize the next point as she went on, “Carol neffer liked being giffen orders, least of all from her otherwise quiet little mousewife of a sister-in-law... so she just shuffed her aside. That’s when your mother tackled her... and it wasn’t long before Carol’s sisters joined in.

“Efen outnumbered three to one, your mother knocked Carol’s lights out!” June declared with obvious pleasure, “and once Carol was out of the fight her sisters backed off. As they were dragging their sister out the door they were warning about how once she was back on her feet they were going to be back to do in your mother.”

“Just because she beat them in a fight?” Gadget asked incredulously.

June nodded somberly. “As I mentioned to you at the Powwow, Carol built her image on fear, and to be beaten in a fight when the odds were in her fafor three to one was unforgiffable... it just couldn’t stand. In Carol’s mind, your mother had to be made to pay dearly for humiliating her... otherwise, other people might get it into their heads to stand up to her. Of course, because of this, most of the people at that party didn’t want your mother anywhere near them, as if she had the plague. But they also wanted to salvage what they could of the evenings festifities, so they figured she should be the one to leave... that way efen if Carol did come back she wouldn’t stay long.”

“You mean they kicked her out?!” Gadget indignantly asked.

“In cases like that you find out who your real friends are,” June replied, “and at that party, she only had two. Ann Southmont and my niece were the only two to stand up for her, but they were outnumbered and the owner of the residence was absolutely terrified, so they left. From what my niece was told by one of those who stayed was that Carol and her sisters did return, armed to the teeth, but left when they couldn’t find your mother. But that wasn’t the end of the indignity forced on your mother,” June went on, “She tried to get her husband, Bob and Dee’s father, to talk some sense into his sister... but Carol had been bullying him since the day he was born so he wasn’t about to say ‘boo’ to her. Your mother diforced him on the spot, grabbed her baby boy and whateffer clothes she could carry and left for her mother’s. My niece stayed behind to misdirect Carol when she showed up.”

“Was my grandmother a Clan Mother at the time?” Gadget inquired, remembering some of what Dee had told her during previous discussions.

“Yes she was,” June answered, “and that’s the only reason, when Carol found out where your mother had gone, she didn’t march right ofer, break down the door and drag your mother out. As much of a bad-ass as Carol was, she wasn’t about to break into the residence of a Clan Mother. In the days after that, Carol made it clear that if your mother stepped one foot out of her mother’s place she was going to go for her throat. Ideally, your grandmother would have talked to Carol’s Clan Mother and she would’fe put her foot down, told Carol to drop her ridiculous fendetta. Unfortunately, there was some pre-existing bad blood between the two, so Carol’s Clan Mother refused to step in and put an end to things. The other Clan Mothers could haff stepped in and imposed a solution for the sake of maintaining ciffil order, but they didn’t want to make it look like they were taking sides in that little grudge match between the other two.”

“That’s ludicrous!” Chip protested.

“I agree,” June almost laughed, “and if I’d been a Clan Mother back then I wouldn’t haff put up with it, but I wasn’t. Efentually things got so bad that Amanda left... She left Bob with her mother because she didn’t want him with her in the efent Carol caught up with her, and since Bob’s care-giffer at that point on was a Clan Mother, Carol didn’t dare lay a finger on him.”

“Unless that Clan Mother took ill,” Chip presumed, remembering Dee’s previous statement that her mother returned when her in-laws were demanding custody.

“That’s what brought her back,” the elder acknowledged, “No one wanted to see Carol get her paws on that child, and the only way to prefent that was if Amanda came back to claim him. And it wasn’t just the custody issue... By the time she got back, her mother was in such bad shape that she had to help care for her. It was at that point that the other Clan Mothers finally put their collectiff feet down. They took Carol’s Clan Mother aside and explained to her that if any harm befell Amanda as a result of Carol’s lust for refenge they were going to take it out of her hide. Dee being a young Clan Mother is a rare exception, most of us, especially the ones back then, were getting on in years and didn’t want to set the precedent that someone responsible for their well-being was fair game to any lowlife thug with an ax to grind.”

“I get the feeling Carol didn’t take the news well that she couldn’t have her revenge,” Gadget supposed.

“Nope,” June replied, “It just infuriated her more. She couldn’t touch your mother, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t find some other way to get back at her... I imagine if she found out your mother’d had a child with an outsider no one else knew about, she would haff jumped on that in an instant.”

“I guess Mom was afraid that if she tried to get in touch with Dad, Carol might have found out about it,” Gadget openly speculated.

“I’m sure that was weighing on your mother’s mind quite a bit,” June reasoned.

“It would also explain why she never told anyone but the Southmonts about meeting Geegaw and having a child with him,” Chip added. “You know,” he began thoughtfully, “I’m not sure Dee knew the specifics about the rift between her mother and her father’s family... Maybe knowing the role that indecisive Clan Mother’s played in her mother’s life could help her make a more educated decision about the matter.”

“You might want to be careful about that,” June chimed in, “Depending on how it influences her decision, you could wind up without a fiancé.”

“In any case, I think she has a right to know what happened between Mom and her Aunt Carol,” Gadget pointed out.

-to be continued...

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Thirteen

By the time Chip and Gadget returned from their visit with June Redtalon, Dee was just about done washing pink salve off of Drywall. For his part, the weasel looked particularly pathetic with his perpetually perplexed expression accented by masses of wet, matted fur. Chip and Gadget recounted for Dee what they had learned of her mother’s past as she finished washing the weasel. Though she never particularly liked her Aunt Carol, the word ‘despise’ was not necessarily an appropriate descriptor for how she regarded her... at least, not until her sister and fiancé finished their narrative. Her outrage was only heightened by the fact that so many people used to say that she took after her Aunt Carol.

“But I do agree with you on something,” Chip redirected, “I don’t think she spiked the soup at the Powwow. It just seems too trivial and prankish a thing for someone that mean-spirited.”

“That’s assuming belching was the intended outcome,” Dee shrugged, remembering Chip having made that point earlier.

“And there’s still the matter of motive,” Chip added, “What was the person trying to accomplish?”

“Dee?” Gadget interrupted, “Where’s Monty?”

“Oh, that salve he slathered all over Drywall consumed the last of the edible and potable resources available here at the workshop,” Dee explained.

“You mean he cleaned out the pantry,” Chip simplified.

“Exactly,” Dee responded, “I sent him to the nearest supermarket to get more supplies.”

No sooner had Dee explained the Aussie’s whereabouts then he returned in a near panic. Setting the several bundles of groceries on the floor before him, Monty threw himself up against the closed door as if to bar it. “Ca-c-c-cat!!” he yelped in a burly manner, “Comin’ after me!”

Dee was about to point out that there aren’t any felines patrolling in the surrounding field due to an old agreement between the tribe and the local stray cat population until- WHAM!! The door flew open despite Monterrey’s mass being pinned against it... cheese, red sauce and a variety of other consumables were flung violently in a radial pattern around the entry. Within the doorway appeared the face of a familiar badger who stuck her head in, as much as her size allowed, and sniffed about intently.

“Hello, Ms Rose!” Gadget cheerfully greeted the unexpected visitor.

“Oh, hi,” the large Clan Mother responded, then added after surveying the debris field, “Did I just demolish your groceries?” Everyone nodded. “Sorry,” she responded, “I thought I caught the scent of my cheesy-squeezy guy.”

“You mean Monty?” Chip inquired.

“Yup,” the badger replied, “I guess I must have just smelled one of you bringing back the groceries.” With one more apology for the mess, she departed, closing the door as she did. Monty, having been pinned to the wall by the door, flumped to the floor.

“That wasn’t a cat, Monty,” Gadget pointed out, “Just a love-smitten badger!”

==

“With all that cheese and ketchup splattered about it looked like you exploded!” Dee laughed to Monty as she piloted the Ranger Wing across town.

Monty chuckled halfheartedly at the thought. “She could at least have called out to see who it was rather than let me think I was being stalked by a cat!” he grumbled.

“Well where’s the fun in that?” Dee jested, “She’s a predator, it’s part of her nature to stalk... she probably didn’t even realize how you’d interpret it.”

“I know it’s in her nature to stalk,” Monty pointed out, “But how am I s’posed to tell the difference between being stalked by a predator for food and being stalked for romance?”

“At least she didn’t get right up behind you and give you a playful nip on the back of your neck,” Dee replied, remembering a particularly shocking incident with Romulus years back, “unintentionally grabbing hold of your hair, keeping you from making a break for it.” Once the aircraft had set down atop a downtown building, everyone disembarked. “Well, here we are,” Dee declared unnecessarily, then adding in a more serious tone, “And try to behave yourself, Drywall.”

Entering the rodent-run bar, The Hole in the Wall, at ground level, the trio went about trying to locate Verne Beetle. “Shoulda’ asked Zipper to tag along,” Monty lamented to himself, realizing how much easier to would be to spot someone in a crowded bar from above. Finding a mass of young female mice all clustered around a corner table, he decided to inquire with one of the ladies, “‘Scuse me, luv, ‘ave you seen a beetle anywhere here abouts?”

Barely acknowledging his existence, the lass responded in a giddy tone, “The cutest beetle in the world!” She clarified, hopping excitedly and pointing over the heads of the ladies in front of her, “In there!”

Being too much of a gentlemouse to elbow his way through a throng of females, Monty muttered, “That’s good enough fer me,” and went off to locate Dee and Drywall.

Wasting little time, Dee proceeded to plow a path through the crowd, Monty sticking close behind to avoid the enveloping mass of femininity closing up between them. Drywall, initially glued to Monty’s rear peering over his shoulder, simply could not stand the suspense and made his own way to the center of attention. From the wall of adoring young female mice, Verne was suddenly face-to-face with a male weasel. Being particularly terrified of mustelids, the beetle did the one thing he could think to do- scream.

“He won’t eat you!” Dee shouted. Finally arriving at the center of the mob, she took a seat beside Verne... after having pushed another mouse out of the way.

“Hello, Dee,” Verne chuckled nervously, adjusting his thick glasses, “you certainly are keeping some carnivorous company lately,”

“Sorry about Drywall, there,” Dee replied apologetically. Getting down to business, she continued, “We need you to identify a chemical.”

Monty handed over the paper package containing the distilled crystals. Verne opened the package and proceeded to investigate the contents. “Ooh! Hmm, quite interesting!” the beetle commented to himself as his antennae wheeled about, “Very fascinating! Never encountered anything like it!” Setting the package down on the table, Verne excused himself. Getting up from his seat, Dee and Monty noticed the miniature sneakers the insect was wearing on his hindmost pair of legs. Despite their scale, they were still comically oversized for his body. Not that it inhibited his mobility in any way, his hindmost legs (and sneakers) were a blur beneath him as he scurried upright over towards the bar. All the ladies let out a collective sigh of adoration as he went.

While at the bar, Verne grabbed a couple cocktail napkins and bummed a pencil off the bartender. Upon returning to his seat, once more to the sighs of his adoring clique, he quickly began to scribble on the napkins. “Never having encountered this unusual concoction before, I have no readily available name to refer to it by, so I’ll just draw out the graphical formula for it,” he explained, “I’m sure that’ll provide all the information you’ll need.” As he completed the diagrams delineating the nature of the chemical, he added in a very grave voice, “But I should warn you, do not add this to water!”

Dee and Monty looked at each other. Looking back to Verne, Dee asked cautiously, “Why not?”

“Well, if one were to consume water tainted with this compound, it would produce spontaneous carbonation when it came into contact with stomach acid,” Verne began, “and once the carbonation has passed, the chemical will have recombined to form a highly lethal poison... much like cyanide.”

Blood ran cold for both Dee and Monty. “Are you absolutely certain?!” Dee inquired.

“Indeed,” Verne replied, “the unique combination of impurities found in the municipal water supply would provide all the necessary extras to create the poisonous side effect.”

“Municipal water supply,” Doohickey repeated, as Monty began to feel faint, “You mean tap water.”

“Correct,” the beetle confirmed.

“But pure water’s ok,” Dee pressed further.

“Perfectly harmless,” was Verne’s response.

Dee’s head fell to the table with a ‘bonk’ as relief allowed the tension to leave her body. Monty, on the other hand, was unaware of the importance of Verne’s last answer. “Is he ok?” a girl asked.

Dee looked around and saw the shape Monty was in. Grabbing his trench coat, she smacked him a couple times. “Monty, Monty! It’s o-k!,” she reassured him, “The soup was not poisonous, it was made with purified water! The cook’s a little funny, he thinks using tap water in his soup is sacrilegious.” After a little thought, she added, “Besides, if it had been made with tap water, you’d be long dead by now.”

Releasing a long overdue sigh of relief, Monty began to fall back into a seat, which was quickly vacated by it’s occupant.

“Verne, could you get my friend a shot of cheese sauce?” Dee asked.

“Certainly,” the beetle replied, standing to leave for the bar.

“I’ll get it for you!” one of the young ladies offered as she quickly turned for the bar.

“No, I’ll get it!” another stated as she tried to hold the first back.

“Like hell you will!” the first groupie shouted at her rival, grabbing her hair.

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Thirteen continued...

As the two young ladies had it out over who would get the cheese sauce for Verne, Verne scurried past and got it himself.

“Thanks rightly, mate!” Monty responded before downing the shot. While Dee was examining the diagrams on the cocktail napkins, Monty leaned over to Verne, who had resumed basking in the adoration of the multitude of young female mice. “Just outta’ curiosity,” he whispered, looking around at all the girls, “what’s your secret?”

“Pheromones,” Verne whispered his reply with a broad smile, “I produced some concentrated male mouse pheromones back at my lab and release them through little pumps in my sneakers!”

As Monty contemplated whether he should artificially augment his natural masculine appeal, 70's dance music started blaring in the human establishment overhead. “Ugh!” groaned one of the ladies, “Everyday, same time, he shows up!”

Another lady, sharing her disdain for that particular human, spouted off, “I wish they’d just ban him! Someone always winds up throwing him out anyway.”

“Maybe they like throwing him out,” Dee offered, tucking away the napkins.

“Check it out!” someone shouted from somewhere near the center of the bar, “It’s John Travolta!”

“Can’t be,” another replied, “He’s not that thin!”

As a growing mixture of cheers and laughter took hold of the patrons of the bar, and since they would be on their way out anyway, Dee and Monty rose from their seats to investigate the cause of the excitement. Neither took note that Drywall was nowhere to be seen... that is, until they arrived at the center of the disturbance. There, in the center of what oft times doubled as a dance floor (and was certainly being put to said use), suited up in a white leisure suit and utterly lost in the bliss of disco dancing, was Drywall.

“Crikey!” Monty declared, “The lad’s got a full blown case of boogie fever!”

Shortly, the music came to an abrupt halt. This was quickly followed by the sounds of hurried footsteps form above as the instigator of the 70's revival was hurled from the establishment. Gradually, Drywall’s moves ground to a halt and he was left staring anxiously about, drumming his fingers together. Wondering why all eyes seemed to be on him, the weasel looked down at himself. “Oh dear,” he stated, “It happened again.”

“What happened again?” Dee asked as she walked up to her compatriot.

“A disco episode,” Drywall replied, “Whenever I hear the first strains of 70's dance music, I black out and when I come to... I’m wearing polyester.”

Dee just stared at Drywall for awhile. Slowly, she turned to Monty. “I thought everyone was exaggerating about your ‘cheese attacks’, Monty,” the mouse stated, “But now I believe.” Grabbing one of the enormous lapels of Drywall’s suit, “Something this bizarre makes your cheese attacks seem logical!”

“Perhaps we should head on back,” Monty suggested, “before anything else bizarre happens.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dee replied as she led the way out.

“Cheese attacks?” Drywall inquired.

==

About the time Dee, Monty and Drywall were preparing to return from their foray, Chip and Gadget departed for the presumed residence of Philippe Marie-Suzon. The Ranger Plane plied it’s way north through the small hollow carved out by a tributary stream that flowed down into the city.

“That should be the clearing there,” Gadget commented as they came to the end of the directions they’d been given by Bob.

“And that looks like the entrance to a burrow there,” Chip added, spying a prominent cavity hollowed out of the face of a small embankment. Landing near the apparent entrance, the two rodents disembarked and cautiously approached. “Hello?” Chip shouted, “Is anybody in? We’d like to speak-”

“Non, non, et non!” came the angry reply from within the tunnel. A clearly outraged frog quickly emerged. “Ze monsieur cannot, must not be interrupted!” the amphibian ordered, “Least of all for whatever foolish, trivial matter philistines like yourselves might have in your puny minds!”

“Golly, there’s no need to be insulting!” Gadget retorted, “We’d just like to ask him a few questions and be on our way.”

Just as the doorfrog was preparing to unleash a retaliatory tirade, Philippe barreled up behind him form the borrow and shoved him aside like so much rubbish... right into Chip. Chipmunk and frog careened into the ground as the rat addressed Gadget. “My apologies, ma cherie, for ze short-sighted attitude of my assistant,” Philippe stated, giving Gadget’s paw a reverent kiss, “He does not realize zat, as an arteest, I live for beauty in all eet’s forms, so your arrival could not possibly be an interruption, but a calling to witness greater beauty than even my skilled paws could produce!”

“Well, now that we’ve established that this isn’t an interruption,” Chip butted in, having recovered from his close encounter of the green kind, “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Continuing to gaze upon Gadget’s loveliness, he knelt down before her so to be eye-to-eye and replied, “You may ask me... anyzing.” For Gadget’s part, she couldn’t help but be flattered by the rat’s attention.

“Did you see anything unusual at the Powwow?” Chip asked, hoping Philippe would acknowledge the question even if it hadn’t come from Gadget.

“Only ze most magnificent creation of Nature’s hand,” he sighed, gently running his fingers along Gadget’s cheek, causing her to blush considerably.

“R-right,” Chip drawled, wondering if he would ever get a useful answer out of the artist, “Did any of your, uh, assistants see anything out of the ordinary... besides Gadget?”

“Zey are not all my assistants,” Philippe corrected, finally standing. He continued, his voice rising in tone and volume as he spoke, “But followers, acolytes, devotees of my GREATNESS!” He finished his declaration by beating a clenched fist to his chest proudly.

“Uh-huh,” Chip replied slowly, wondering if he should perhaps move aside to give the rat’s ego more room, “But did they see anything?”

“‘Ow should I know?” Philippe shrugged, “nor should I care!”

“Then may I ask them myself?” Chip inquired.

“Whatever,” Philippe blithely dismissed, once more enamored by Gadget’s beauty. Chip had just turned to enter the borrow in search of the frog that had wandered inside when he was startled by an ungodly scream from Philippe. Turning back, he witnessed the rat falling to his knees, his paws up upon his head. Gadget was clearly just as startled as Chip as she backed away. “What eez ZAT!!” Philippe hollered, jutting his arms out towards the aircraft in which Chip and Gadget arrived.

“That’s the Ranger Plane,” Gadget pointed out in reference to the semi-dirigible: a bleach bottle with wings suspended under a balloon standing upright upon two spindly plunger legs, “I built it myself out of refuse from a garbage heap and pieces of my Dad’s old plane.”

“Of course!” Philippe cried, turning to face Gadget, “Such genius merged with such beauty!” Jumping to his feet, he began to race towards the craft, then stopped. “It flies?” he asked, looking back to Gadget.

“Well, of course,” the inventor replied, pleasantly surprised that anyone would take such interest in her creation, “that’s how we got here!”

“Zis ees ze greatest masterpiece of utilitarian art I have ever seen!” Philippe declared before bounding over to the vehicle. Gadget followed behind excitedly.

Chip was becoming a little wary of Philippe, not sure whether he was simply an eccentric or a borderline psychotic. Given the possibilities, he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave Gadget alone with him to go interrogate Philippe’s following. However, Chip knew Gadget was quite capable of handling dangerous situations, after all, she had singlehandedly taken on and defeated the militant wing of the Cola Cult... one screwball rat shouldn’t pose too great a threat. Placing his concerns on the shelf for the moment, he ventured into the darkness.

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Thirteen continued...

After traversing the length of the tunnel, lit only by the sunlight coming from behind, Chip emerged in what he always assumed an artist’s studio would look like, provided it was underground of course. The cavernous studio, lit by numerous candles, was littered with various stereotypical artistic implements such as easels, brushes, buckets of paint, etc. Intermingled with these familiar items were what appeared to be heaps of nondescript garbage. Whether any of it was indeed garbage, future art materials, or object d’art themselves Chip wasn’t completely certain. Occasionally he spied a heap that seemed more vertical than horizontal, these he assumed were statues of some kind. Off in one corner was a pile of blankets and rags just large enough for a rat to stretch out on. Must be his bed, Chip thought to himself. He didn’t dare get too close, it seemed to be a breeding ground for all manner of unsanitary things.

Chip did, indeed, find some of Philippe’s admirers. However, none were particularly polite in their responses to his entreaties for information. The few real answers he received were usually curt and to the point, and never very informative. Chip, unfortunately, could not discern whether their uncooperative attitudes were intentional evasiveness due to having something to hide or merely their intense displeasure at the gall of this outsider who dared violate their master’s inner sanctum.

Outside, Philippe was busily admiring Gadget’s engineering genius that was the Ranger Plane as Gadget looked on, thrilled that someone was taking such intense interest in her handiwork. “Oh, I should warn you-” Gadget tried to warn the rat as he leaned far over into the pilot’s seat. But before the warning could be adequately delivered, that being not to fiddle with the controls, Philippe began fiddling with the controls. A panel on the fuselage just over the rim of the dashboard popped open and a long spring propelled bludgeon flew out, attached at it’s base to a hinge at the top of the dashboard. WHAM-WHAM-WHAM!! Philippe leapt back before his head could be further assaulted by the flailing feature.

“Mon dieu!” the Frenchrat declared as he fell on his backside, covering his head, “Zis reminds me of ze time I ran wiz ze bulls in Trampolaña!”

“That was my security system,” Gadget piped up, “I call it ‘the club’!”

Philippe chortled, in as much as the pain allowed, “Such a truly marvelous take on ze humans’ ludicrously named device!” Taking in the full spectacle of the machine before him, he was overwhelmed by his admiration for the mouse standing nearby. “COME! I must show you my studio!” he declared, “Allons y!” Grabbing Gadget’s paw, he raced off for the tunnel. Once within the subterranean artist’s flat, Philippe began showing Gadget about, oblivious to Chip’s presence.

When most of the frogs in the vicinity were joining in on the guided tour, busily commenting on Philippe’s genius and how lucky Gadget was to be given the honor of viewing his works, Chip felt compelled to do some snooping. He couldn’t help the feelings of suspicion aroused by the frogs’ attitudes towards his questions. The curious chipmunk quietly leafed through reams of drawing paper, peaked beneath shrouds and other coverings and smelling any liquids that he couldn’t immediately identify. Chip soon came upon a work area that had been segregated from the other works. Everything within the area spoke of Gadget... sketches, illustrations, poses, even crude clay models. Chip couldn’t help but admire the sheet covered with various facial expressions, nor could he avoid the concern by such an immediate obsession with his friend. He was about to peak beneath another shroud when he noticed the group inching his way. Chip stepped aside and looked for other things to investigate.

Gadget let out an astonished gasp as she was directed to the artistic ‘shrine’ that her comrade had recently been perusing. “That’s me!” she stated, “At least, I think it’s me. It could be Dee, since we do look exactly alike. But then again you’ve never seen her before her hair was cut.”

“Eet could be none ozer zan you,” Philippe sighed, “Ever since you crossed my path days ago, I have been haunted by your beauty!” Looking back at his sketches, he continued, “Ah, but none of zis compares to ze perfection wrought by Nature’s own hands when she brought you forth into zis undeserving world.”

“What’s under here?” Gadget asked innocuously as she began to lift up the same shroud Chip had been curious about previously.

“NON!” Philippe declared, placing himself between Gadget and the work. “I cannot allow your eyes to be offended by a project which is less zan perfected,” he explained.

Chip noticed what appeared to be a second tunnel leading away from the main studio, and was about to venture within when a frog emerged before him. “What are you doing ‘ere, you trespassing fool?!” shouted the frog, “Zis eez no place for you! Be gone!”

“What eez zis?” Philippe inquired.

“Zis miserable ball of fur is trespassing, monsieur Flippy!” the frog proclaimed.

“‘Ow many times must I tell you never call me by zat ridiculous NAME!?” Philippe bellowed as he grabbed hold of the amphibian. The rat proceeded to mercilessly beat the pathetic frog, much to the horror of his guests.

“STOP THAT!” Gadget hollered as she tried to pull Philippe back.

In a flash, Philippe noticed Gadget’s efforts and dropped the hapless frog. With unsettling speed, the rat regained his composure and smiled benevolently down at her, even as his victim crawled off with the one arm he could still use. “Ah, but I see eet eez time for you and your compatriot to depart,” Philippe stated, “I will not insist that you stay longer, as eet would be an unforgivable crime to deny ze rest of ze world ze opportunity to be witness to your beauty.” Neither Chip or Gadget disputed whether or not they should leave, the studio had become a very uncomfortable place.

-to be continued...

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Fourteen

It hadn’t been long after Dee, Monty and Drywall had left ‘The Hole in the Wall’ that Dale and Foxglove showed up. After their time in the park Dale had suggested they stop in for a drink and listen to some tunes, maybe even do a little dancing if the spirit moved them. It had been a bit of a walk in the summer sun, so the chance to duck into a dark and cool locale was quite welcome.

The couple had just finished a round when some loud music started up. For his part, Dale didn’t mind, he often listened to rock music much louder anyway. But for Foxglove, however, it was a different matter. She tried to limit the impact of the sound by repositioning her ears away from the originating source, but eventually opted to simply cover over her ear canals by lowering her ears down along the sides of her head.

Noticing a couple mice taking to the floor to dance, Dale spouted, “Hey, that looks like fun!” Turning to his date, he asked, “You wanna dance?” As Foxglove thought the matter over, Dale realized she was clearly uncomfortable. She was forcing a smile, not wanting to bring down Dale’s good time. “Um, maybe we should return to the workshop,” Dale offered, not wanting to add to Foxy’s discomfort, “Maybe the others have gotten a lead or something.”

“If you want,” Foxglove replied in a neutral tone hoping to avoid sounding too anxious to leave.

As the pair proceeded out of the establishment, two pairs of eyes followed them. Two males, a mouse and rat, sized up the couple: the lady was quite pretty, for a bat, and her escort seemed to be too much of a doofus to be any trouble. They soon tailed the pair outside. One of the pursuers couldn’t help himself and shouted out, “That’s some walk you got there sweetheart!”

“Dale,” Foxy muttered to her companion with a hint of concern.

“Just ignore the jerk, Foxy,” the chipmunk advised as they continued along the sidewalk.

“They’re following us,” the bat pointed out, noting the sound of their footsteps behind them.

“We’re just trying to be friendly,” the other pursuer piped up. The two then jogged forward to close the distance some before slowing back down to a walk.

“Dale, we should do something,” Foxglove pleaded as she took hold of one of his paws, as much as her wing could do so. Then she heard the footsteps suddenly quicken. Foxglove turned her head about just as the mouse put a paw on her shoulder.

“We’d just like a chance to get to know you a little better,” the mouse sneered as he pulled the lady about.

“I’m not interested,” Foxglove stated sternly, pushing the mouse’s paw aside and turned back around.

“C’mon, there’s no need to be like that!” the mouse replied, grabbing Foxy’s wings and pinning them to her sides.

“Hey!” the startled bat protested.

“The lady said she wasn’t interested!” Dale proclaimed, grabbing one of the mouse’s arms.

Pulling that arm back, the mouse placed his palm squarely in the middle of Dale’s chest and shoved him aside. “This has nothing to do with you,” he declared.

Having a wing free, Foxy was about to elbow the mouse in the stomach, but held back when she saw Dale crouch down in preparation to strike. The mouse, having dismissed the chipmunk as some kind of pansy, wasn’t in the least prepared as the ‘pansy’ collided with his mid-section like a furry linebacker. The two tumbled for a space before righting themselves.

“Dale!” Foxy yelled as fists started flying. But before she could make any effort to assist her love, the rat held her back.

“Let’s let them resolve this like gentlemen,” he stated, holding Foxy in place in front of him.

“Resolfe this!” the rat heard someone growl loudly from behind him. He looked back in time to get a closeup view of a set of knuckles. The rat released Foxglove as he struggled to regain his balance following Bob’s initial blow. However, before he could prepare to fight back, the infuriated security mouse grabbed hold of him and flung him off the curb and into the street. The rat had just enough time to stand before a bus passed behind him, close enough for the tires to brush against the tip of his tail. Any fight he had left drizzled out of him as he stood shaking on the pavement. Acting solely on instinct, the terrified rat scrabbled up onto the curb and tore off down the sidewalk as quickly as his four limbs could carry him, his nails scraping loudly against the cement as he ran.

“Get back here and help me you chickenshit!” shouted the rat’s compatriot, now firmly held by Dale in a headlock.

“You’d be runnin’ too in his place!” Dale growled at his opponent. Giving the lowlife’s neck a little squeeze, the chipmunk continued, “Now, I think you owe the lady an apology, right?”

When the rude rodent hesitated out of pure unmitigated arrogance, Dale gave an extra little squeeze. “Gck! All right, all right,” the mouse croaked, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have behaved the way I did... a lady like you deserves to be treated a lot better.”

Dale let up on the mouse and gave him a shove down the sidewalk. “Now get lost!” he ordered, then added, making it up as he went, “And don’t let me catch you treating any other ladies like that!” The mouse simply walked off, stroking his neck.

“Oh, Dale,” Foxy shouted as she embraced her defender, “You were magnificent!”

“Yeah, I guess I was, wasn’t I,” Dale responded.

“You probably coulda’ handled both of them on your own,” Bob added.

“Not to sound ungrateful or anything,” Dale began to Bob, “But aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I am at work,” Bob replied, “I’m on my way back from escorting a wine delivery to that rat Dee and Chip were looking for.” After a brief exchange of farewells, the trio parted company.

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Fourteen continued...

==

Dale and Foxglove returned to Doohickey’s workshop in time to meet Chip and Gadget returning from their visit to Philippe’s studio. After standard greetings, they went inside where Dee, Monty Zipper and Drywall making themselves busy with various projects or activities.

“So,” Dee began, looking up at the new arrivals, “Find out anything from the rat-frog?”

“We were just about to ask you what you found out about that chemical,” Chip replied. Closing the door as he spoke, it resisted his exertions. Looking back, he witnessed Raven and Fangs materialize out of thin air within the door frame.

“Hey-hey, the gang’s all here!” Dale chimed in as the two late arrivals made their way in.

“Where exactly were the two of you going that required your being invisible?” Chip asked his future stepdaughter in a voice brimming with suspicion.

“Sightseeing,” the girl responded cooly, “Fangs and I usually go around invisible if we’re alone.”

“Okay,” Chip conceded slowly. Turning to his fiancé, he continued, “Since you, Monty and Drywall went out first, maybe you should go recount what you learned first.”

Dee inhaled deeply as she prepared to explain what they’d been told by Verne, but Monty beat her to the punch. “We dodged one nasty bullet at the Powwow, mate,” the Aussie pointed out, “That’s what we learned.”

As Chip looked between the two mice in confusion, Dee elaborated, “That chemical that we found in the corn soup would have been lethal had the soup been made with tap water.”

“It’s a poison?” Gadget asked in concern.

“It could be,” Dee responded, pulling the cocktail napkin from a pocket. Handing the graphical information to her sister, she continued to the others, “Had the soup been made with tap water, once the carbonation had run it’s course- after all the belching, what was left of the chemical would have recombined with the impurities in the water in a way that would make it as toxic as cyanide.”

“You think it’s possible whoever spiked the soup planned to kill people?” Chip inquired.

Dee merely shrugged. “No way to know,” she eventually stated, “yet.”

“This is really strange,” Gadget remarked as she continued her examination of the napkin.

“That beetle said he’d never seen anything like it,” Monty pointed out.

Chip thought things over. “Whoever put that in the soup either knew it was potentially poisonous but didn’t know the soup wasn’t made with tap water,” he speculated aloud, “Knew it was potentially poisonous but knew it was safe in the soup, meaning whoever it was had to know how the soup was made, or had no complete knowledge of the potential outcome and put it in the soup to find out.”

“In that last case,” Dee chimed in, “Whoever did this might have assumed the soup was made with tap water and now thinks the chemical is harmless when added to it.”

“Well, if people start dropping after belching we’ll know that’s what happened,” Raven pointed out.

“But,” Gadget joined in, having finished her examination, “If this is a rare compound, then wouldn’t the person that created it have at least some idea what might happen when it was added to water, purified or not? I would think it would be a little unlikely for some amateur to come up with something this unusual by accident... though it’s not completely unthinkable, whoever did it could be some kind of savant, or perhaps a prodigy-”

“Wa-a-ait,” Dale intervened, “If whoever did this just wanted a body count, why didn’t he just use regular old poison?”

“Dale has a point,” Chip stated.

“I do?” Dale piped up, “I mean, I do!”

“Somebody likely went through a lot of trouble to create this,” Chip went on, “And like Gadget said, whoever it was has to be fairly intelligent, so it seems unlikely that they’d be so careless as to just assume the soup would be made of tap water.”

“At the very least they would’ve checked the soup’s content beforehand just to make sure there wasn’t anything in it that would prevent the chemical from working as intended,” Dee added.

“A basic poison would be far more effective for creating the desired body count without some minor something getting in the way,” Chip finished.

“Assuming ‘whoever it was’ didn’t just steal it form whoever created it in the first place,” Monty pointed out, “and dumped it in the soup just to see what it would do.”

“You’re right,” Chip sighed, “I’ll feel much better once we find out the ‘who’ behind this and what their motive was.”

“Or warn them before they accidentally poison themselves or someone else,” Gadget added.

The group became quiet, lingering on the weighty issue of a possible poisoner on the loose. For Dee, the atmosphere was simply too dark. “We also discovered that Drywall suffers from ‘disco episodes’,” she pointed out.

“‘Disco episodes?” was the universal response.

“Whenever the lad hears disco music he goes all bonzer loco and begins to boogie down,” Monty explained.

“I have a problem,” Drywall confessed meekly.

“I’ll say!” Raven proclaimed.

The thought of a ‘disco episode’ was intriguing to Dale, and he discreetly went in search of a radio, hoping he could find a local station that catered to those lost in the seventies. “What did you find out about Philippe?” Dee inquired, oblivious, as were the others, to Dale’s quest.

“He has an unhealthy fixation on Gadget,” Chip stated coldly.

“I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s ‘unhealthy’,” Gadget countered, “I would consider what he did to that poor frog to be unhealthy.”

“Well, most savage beatings are, Gadget,” Chip pointed out.

“What’d he do?” Dee asked.

“One of his frogs, one of a throng of adoring fans, called him ‘Flippy’,” Chip proceeded to explain, “He absolutely went nuts and began to pound the daylights out of him! He stopped when Gadget intervened and behaved like nothing had happened.”

“Sounds like the lad’s a few colors short of a full palette t’me,” Monterrey commented.

“Did you find out anything useful?” Raven inquired.

“Not really,” Chip responded, “He was too busy flirting with Gadget to be bothered with questions and most of his disciples were uncooperative to say the least. I did a little snooping around but couldn’t find much, partly because there was so much trash strewn about and because one of his frogs stopped me from investigating a room that was off to the side.”

“That was the one who made the unfortunate slip of the tongue,” Gadget clarified, “Philippe suggested we leave after he’d beaten him.”

“Certainly sounds to me like he was trying to hide something,” Dee intoned.

Before Chip could explain to his love that there wasn’t any apparent connection between Philippe and the incident at the Powwow, the workshop was filled with loud seventies dance music. The next thing Chip knew, he was Drywall’s dance partner. Looking about determinedly, the bewildered chipmunk searched for the source of the music. When he found it, there was Dale, rolling around on the floor, laughing hysterically. Chip was spared the effort of trying to escape Drywall’s boogie fever as Gadget made her way to the radio and soon silenced the dance inducing disco.

“Dale, I think it’s very inappropriate to be exploiting Drywall’s condition like that!” Gadget scolded.

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Fourteen continued...

As the door to the workshop flew open, everyone’s attention was drawn away from the spectacle of the dancing weasel and the shameful chipmunk. Framed by the doorway was Philippe’s scraggly form. “Ah! I ‘ave found ze studio of ze genius Gadget!” he stated as he strode in toting a large flat object covered in a paint spattered sheet.

“It’s my studio you dip-shit!” Dee protested.

Completely, and intentionally, ignoring Dee’s declaration, Philippe proceeded to address her sister. “Your visit today inspired me to complete, what till now, has been my greatest masterpiece!” Setting his rectangular parcel on one of the wide ends, he continued, “I could not for a moment deprive your beautiful eyes ze opportunity to witness the majesty of what your inspiration has brought me- non, forced me to create! Zerefore, I present you...” with a flourish, he whisked of the sheet and declared, “‘Ze Birth of Gadget’!”

Everyone’s jaws dropped as they beheld the painting. In the center of the artistic rendering, rising from an open toolbox, was Gadget, her golden locks billowing in the wind. On the left flew two winged angels who looked remarkably similar to Dale and Foxglove while on the right a conservatively clad earthly maiden, looking a great deal like Doohickey, was rushing over to cover her sister with a floral cloak. However, it was not the artistic competence portrayed in the work that was cause for the dropped jaws, it was what Gadget was portrayed as wearing... which was nothing. It was Botticelli’s ‘Birth of Venus’ with minor changes. Releasing a startled shriek, Gadget raced over and plastered herself to the canvas, which was nearly as large as herself in an effort to conceal her unclad portrait.

Being unable to conceive of any other reaction to his work from the object of his desire, Philippe interpreted Gadget’s response as positively ecstatic. Sighing contentedly, Philippe explained to Gadget, “Eet ees always gratifying to see one’s work so warmly accepted! Ah, but how could eet not? Eet was ze product of my unparalleled genius inspired by your unparalleled beauty!” Letting go of the painting, he left it to Gadget, who awkwardly carried it over to the nearest wall to set it against (the unoffending reverse facing outward).

“Nobody could possibly accept such filth warmly!” William spoke out loudly, in the closest thing to anger anyone had seen in the otherwise reserved British squirrel, “First to have barged in without knocking, then to show no consideration at all to the lady who manages this business, and in the height of poor taste, portray her sister, before her friends and family, in a practically pornographic manner in a scene purloined from an artist far superior to yourself!”

Puffing out his chest, Philippe responded to William’s harangue, “Hah! What would a Briton know about taste? Now go scurry off and put ketchup on... everyzing!” Addressing the others in general, he continued, “And to zink any artist could be greater zan myself ees nozing but foolishness! I am ze greatest arteest ever! All ozers are mere imitators- I did not steal ze idea from him, he stole eet from moi!”

Crossing his arms in contempt, Chip challenged him, “And how do you figure that? Botticelli died hundreds of years before you were born while the idea you claim he stole from you was just painted.”

“Ah, but I would not expect your puny American mind to comprehend ze facts behind what has transpired, but I shall explain just for ze pleasure of watching the words pass over your head like so many tweeting birds!” Philippe replied arrogantly, “Mozer Nature adores symmetry! All zings have zeir equal and opposite... Zere is no light wizout dark, no up wizout down, no forward wizout ze moving backwards. Zerefore, ze time, she cannot move forward wizout also moving backwards. Zose people you so foolishly call ‘artistic geniuses’ have only ze gift of seeign zis backwards moving time and ‘remember’ ze works zat I have created. Zese ‘artists’, being unable to comprehend zat zese are memories, mistake zem for inspiration.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard!” Raven loudly proclaimed.

Glaring at the youth, and clenching his fist defiantly, Philippe had gotten no farther than one step before Dee growled, “Lay one finger on that girl and I’ll break your legs!”

“Pardon?” Philippe asked, “Did somebody just pass gas?”

Dee vaulted over her workbench only to be snared in mid air by Monterrey Jack. Both mice went tumbling onto the floor while several onlookers pressed in to assist. In the confusion, no one was keeping an eye of Philippe.

That is, until Gadget figured enough was enough. “Philippe?” she called out, trying to locate the rat. He obediently entered her presence. “I think you should really be going,” she stated as more of a command than a suggestion.

“Because eet would please you, I shall go,” Philippe replied in a suave manner, then, stooping to kiss her paw, declared, “Until we meet again, ma cherie!” The rat then departed as Gadget grabbed a rag with which to wipe off her paw.

Once the offending presence had vacated the workshop, Monty and Chip finally released Dee, confident there was no longer an imminent threat of her committing aggravated ratslaughter. Otherwise everyone milled about, commenting on the unsettling events that had just transpired. Eventually, Dee wandered over to the painting. Pulling it away from the wall to examine it. She noticed that the portrayal was quite flattering to both Dale and Foxglove’s physiques, then she realized Philippe’s interpretation of herself. “That worthless piece of toe-cheese! How dare he paint me like this?!”

Chip groaned as he walked over to see what his love’s concern was, hoping he could calm her down before anything, or anyone, wound up in itty-bitty pieces.

“Look at this!” Dee commanded as Chip approached. “Look at Gadget, then look at me,” she stated, motioning towards their respective images in the painting. Chip was actually a little embarrassed to be looking at Gadget in such circumstances and only provided a fleeting glance. But, as he examined Dee’s portrayal, he thought he noticed the source of her indignation. “I look like Olive Oyle compared to Gadget in this!” Dee argued, “I should be every bit as curvaceous! We have practically the same body, after all!”

“Dear,” Chip sighed, “I don’t think this is really worth getting this upset over. Besides, if you’re going to be upset over something, I would think it’d be that big hairy wart he put on your nose.”

Dee leaned in for a closer look, and noticed what Chip had seen much earlier. “That frog gave me a WART?!”

“I though toads were supposed to give people warts,” Dale commented innocuously, something he regretted when he noticed Dee glaring at him.

“Where’s my crossbow?” Dee asked rhetorically as she made her way towards a side room.

“You’re not planning to hurt Dale with it, are you?” Foxglove asked as she embraced her sweetie protectively.

“Of course not,” Doohickey dismissed calmly as she went, “I’m going to kill Philippe.”

Chip intercepted his fiancé before she could retrieve any weaponry. Steering her over towards her workbench, he addressed her in a soothing manner, “There are other ways, more productive ways, to work out your anger. I’m sure once you get yourself into some inventing, preferably of something nonlethal, you’ll forget all about this.” As he set her down on a stool, she toppled over.

Howling in anger, Dee grabbed the stool. It was then that she realized a leg was missing. “And he also apparently stole a leg from one of my stools,” she commented to Chip from her place on the floor.

“I suppose this is as good a time as any,” Fangs broached slowly, “to point out that Raven and I overheard quite a few people talking about various unimportant things disappearing from their homes and businesses while we were out sightseeing... things like chair legs and such.”

“Come to think of it,” Chip thought aloud as he helped Dee off the floor, “That would explain some of the ‘trash’ I found littering Philippe’s studio.”

“Sounds like someone should go over his studio again,” Raven posited.

“I’ll get my crossbow!” Dee chirped happily.

“You’re not going,” Chip stated as he held her back. Turning to Fangs and Raven he continued, “The two of you make a list of things that you heard were ‘disappearing’. Maybe we can send Drywall to Philippe’s place for a treasure hunt.”

-to be continued...

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Fifteen

“I’m glad you finally came to your senses, Chip,” Dee stated as she, her fiancé and Drywall flew northward from the abandoned rail yard in the Ranger Wing. The lady had convinced her betrothed that she could be trusted not to go after Philippe.

“Me?” Chip responded almost indignantly, “I wasn’t the one who was going to go off and kill someone over an unflattering portrait.”

“I mean your finally accepting I wasn’t actually going to kill that frog,” Dee pointed out.

“I know, it’s just that I didn’t really expect that extreme a reaction from you over something that trivial,” Chip explained.

“You should talk,” Dee jabbed playfully, “Monty’s told me about some of the things you and Dale have come to blows over.”

“But you’ve always told me how you try to keep control over your temper,” the chipmunk countered, “That way, no one could use you.”

“Yeah,” the mouse agreed, “It’s just that there’s something about Philippe that really sets me off.”

“Put down here,” Chip ordered. Dee landed the craft where her love had instructed. Being a substantial distance from Philippe’s studio so as to avoid detection by his loyal following, Chip had to explain to Drywall how to make it the rest of the way. The chipmunk simultaneously instilled in the weasel that there was nothing of interest to be found on the way and that there were great mysteries to be discovered at the destination... the hope being that Drywall would head straight for his destination without distraction. “And remember, once you get there” Chip finished, stressing his final words, “Keep your eyes peeled!”

Drywall developed a very worried expression and slowly turned away. Dee and Chip looked to each other as they both came to the same horrible realization. “WAIT!” Dee shouted to the weasel. She leaned out far from the Ranger Wing to grab hold of his arm before he could get any farther.

“What I meant when I said ‘keep your eyes peeled’ was,” Chip began to correct himself, “When you get there, try not to overlook anything. Even otherwise mundane items could have great significance.”

“Whew!” Drywall exhaled in relief, then departed for his mission.

“You had the same flashback of that ‘butter him up’ incident, didn’t you?” Chip asked his love. Dee nodded. “We should probably warn Romulus not to say ‘Stick a fork in me, I’m done’ around Drywall,” Chip reasoned.

“But he can still say it around plaster board, right?” Dee inquired. As Chip gave her a confused look, she added with a growing smile, “And wall paper? Romulus loves to say ‘Stick a fork in me, I’m done’ around wall paper... It’d break his heart if he couldn’t.”

“Maybe we should come up with a new name for Drywall,” Chip reasoned. As the Ranger Wing took to the sky, he turned to his fiancé and prodded playfully, “You’re lucky you’re not Dale, otherwise I would’ve been tempted to bonk you for that construction material joke.”

Drywall bounded eagerly through the undergrowth on his quest. He paused momentarily upon reaching the small clearing before the entrance to Philippe’s studio. The darkness within the burrow beckoned him forward, enticing the weasel with it’s untold secrets. So many potential mysteries, so many potential answers, so much... potential! He could hold back no longer. Quickly licking his lips, Drywall bolted across the clearing and vanished into the earth.

There was little within the tunnel itself for the inquisitive weasel to take note of (though what little there was did not go unobserved). Entering the candle lit studio, Drywall paused again. It was as if he’d uncovered the legendary Cave of Wonders itself! His pupils dilated with ecstasy. As Drywall’s lust to satisfy his curiosity flew into overdrive, it was as if the laws of physics had been undone... he was everywhere! Looking into, under and around everything... weaving between statues... nothing escaped his observation. Even the fleas hidden in Philippe’s tousled and filthy bedding were paid a visit.

Once all possible lanes of exploration had been exhausted, Drywall turned his attention to the two side tunnels leading off from the studio. One was a simple tunnel leading to the outside, containing very little to hold the weasel’s attention. The other proved far more interesting. The second tunnel led a chamber full of vats of liquid, sacks of various substances, scales with weights and measures, and frogs, lots of frogs.

“An intruder!” shouted one of the amphibians, “‘E must be stopped!”

“AAHHH!” shouted Drywall as the mass of green advanced on him. Racing back down the tunnel to Philippe’s studio he managed to stay far ahead of the amphibious mob. However, a second, smaller group of frogs were entering the studio from one of the other tunnels and, upon seeing the panicked weasel, moved to block the escape routes. With escape cut off, Drywall resorted to the only tactic he could think of: evade.

Frogs lunged at the weasel form all sides only to have the wiry fur ball quickly bolt between two of them. Dodging, ducking, weaving, bouncing and racing about like mad, Drywall stayed out of the grasp of his pursuers. One by one, frogs began dropping from exhaustion. In time, only a few remained standing, and when they lost track of the manic mammal among Philippe’s possessions, they sat down to catch their breath. It wasn’t long before they were asleep. A crumpled up ball of paper sprouted a furry paw, then another, then two more, then scampered from the frog strewn studio, off towards Dee’s workshop.

Dale was contentedly sprawled out on the floor of the workshop, perusing a comic book filled with alien creatures, when he noticed a large shadow overtake his reading material. Looking up from his entertaining diversion, he found himself face to ‘face’ with a bristling white ball that happened to be peering at him intently with a pair of unblinking eyes. “AHH! An ALIEN!!” Dale hollered. Everyone’s attention was riveted upon the startled chipmunk and his visitor.

“Alien? Where?” Drywall asked excitedly, his head popping up out of the ball of paper. The weasel bounded out of the paper ball and was soon racing about the workshop attempting to locate the extraterrestrial.

“Dale, you dimwit,” Chip scolded, “It was just Drywall... in a disguise, I guess.”

“Drywall,” Dee called out to the streaking blur, “There’s no alien.”

“Oh poo,” the weasel noted disappointedly, coming to a sudden halt in the middle of the room.

Chip pulled Drywall aside and promptly proceeded to debrief him concerning his recent mission. “Did you find the stuff that Fangs and Raven told you about?”

“Most of ‘em,” Drywall answered simply.

“Any idea what they were being used for?” Chip inquired. Drywall just shook his head. “Did you find a tunnel leading off to the side?” the chipmunk asked.

The weasel nodded, “Two,” he clarified.

“Where did they lead?” Chip inquired further, hoping to finally satisfy his own curiosity about what he’d failed to investigate earlier.

“One just led outside,” Drywall proceeded to answer, “the other led to a room.”

Chip waited for Drywall to continue, only to have the weasel stare at him intently. “What was in the room,” the chipmunk pressed. Once the weasel finished relating what he’d spotted before the frogs spotted him, Chip asked, “Do you have any idea what was in those vats or sacks?” Drywall shook his head. “Did the frogs see you?” Drywall nodded. “What did you do?”

“I ran,” Drywall answered.

“I assume you wound up hiding in that paper ball and then snuck back here, right?” Chip inquired. Drywall nodded. Having finished with the weasel, Chip approached the ball of paper, which was nearly as large as himself. It occurred to him that there might be something of potential value scrawled on such a piece of discarded paper. “Hey, Monty,” he called out, “Help me get this straightened out.”

“Sure thing, Chip, me lad,” the Aussie replied, sauntering over to assist. Once the two had opened the ball and had the sheet flattened out on the floor, they looked it over.

“Looks like some kind of mechanical schematics,” Chip remarked as he proceeded to lift up one side of the sheet.

“Yer right, there,” Monty commented as he lifted the other side, helping to hold it upright.

Gadget, having heard the words ‘mechanical schematics’, wandered away from her project to see what was up. As she approached her companions from the opposite side of the sheet, she spotted various sketches on the reverse that had gone unnoticed by the two as they unraveled it. Gadget released a startled shriek and raced over to the paper. Grabbing the top edge, she pulled it down, out of the grip of Chip and Monty, and pushed it flat against the floor.

“Gadget!” Chip exclaimed.

“What’s the matter, luv?” Monty inquired.

“What is it now?” Dee asked, wandering away from her own project. Gadget motioned her sister over, discreetly lifted up the sheet and gestured to what she’d spotted. “That frog drew these, didn’t he?” Dee practically growled.

“Drew what?” Chip asked.

Raven, who had been drawn away from playing kissy-face with Fangs by all the noise, also spotted what had caused the commotion. “Whoa! Who drew all the nudy pics of Aunt Gadget?”

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Fifteen continued...

Drywall, who had begun to leaf through Dale’s comic book, raced over to get a gander. “Ooh!” the weasel commented.

Being a bit more at the center of attention than she’d intended, Gadget was not pleased by Drywall’s sudden intrusion. “Knock it off!” she shouted as she bonked him on the head.

“Ow!” Drywall spouted, backing away, covering his head.

“Golly!” Gadget responded, “I’m sorry, Drywall. It was a gut reaction!”

“Golly,” Dee commented, “That excuse sounds familiar.”

Taking the opportunity to change the subject, Chip walked over to Drywall. “Before I forget... While you were gone, we decided to come up with a more, er, less, um... a new name for you,” he began to explain. Drywall stopped rubbing his sore noggin for a moment. “We figured it’d be best if we called you by a name that wasn’t going to be mistaken for a piece of construction material, you know, if one of us states ‘I need Drywall’ or ‘Bring me Drywall’.”

“That’s understandable,” Drywall agreed.

“We considered names like ‘Creepy Weasel’, ‘General Nuisance’...” Chip listed.

“My favorite was ‘Wonder Weasel’!” exclaimed Dale.

“Yeah, but the thought of you wearing a Wonder Woman get-up made it a little too ridiculous,” Monty pointed out.

“So we eventually settled on calling you ‘Snoop’,” Chip finished, “It made sense given your natural tendencies.”

“Snoop,” Drywall repeated.

“Think you can live with that?” Chip asked.

“Sure,” answered ‘Snoop’ with a shrug.

While the males had been busy counseling ‘Snoop’ about his new moniker, Dee and Gadget had taken to examining the mechanical designs on the sheet. Laying it flat on the floor so as to draw no further attention to the sketches on the reverse, they poured over the details. All of the numbers made sense, their only problem was the text. “Figures,” Dee grumbled, “It’s all in french.”

“It looks like it’s supposed to be some kind of pump,” Gadget declared, “These appear to be valves, flow rates... in metric I think, but that would only make sense considering Philippe is from France, but that’s assuming it was Philippe who drew up these plans, which I guess makes sense since it was found in his studio, but then again one doesn’t always consider artists to be engineers, but there are exceptions like Leonardo da Vinci...”

“I’d rather we not start equating this greasy, thieving lech to da Vinci,” Dee argued.

“Fair enough,” Gadget agreed. “Monty,” she called, “How well can you read french?”

“I think I do pretty well,” Monty replied modestly, walking over to the ladies, “I picked up quite a bit during my early days back-packing across Europe.... plus some German, Italian...”

“Could you translate some of this then?” Dee asked, motioning to the schematics.

“Well I’ll certainly give it a try,” Monty consented, leaning in to examine the text. After a few minutes, most of which were devoted to Monty’s tales detailing just how he came to learn certain words and phrases, the french text of the document was translated. One aspect of the translation became an issue of particular importance. “Chipper, I think you should come take a look at this,” Monty called over.

“What is it, Monty?” Chip asked as he approached.

“Now I’m not one-hundred percent certain on the translation of this one phrase,” the Aussie prefaced, pointing towards a particular point on the schematics, “But it seems t’me Philippe is talkin’ about some kind of ‘belch sauce’.”

“Belch sauce?” Chip repeated.

“That substance we found in the tainted soup would, in it’s original form, have the consistency of runny cheese sauce,” Gadget pointed out.

“Making it a ‘belch sauce’,” Dee finished.

“So this would seem to indicate that Philippe is the one behind that strange belching incident,” Chip concluded.

“That’s certainly what it looks like,” Gadget confirmed.

“So what does it have to do with this pump?” Chip inquired, “or whatever it is.”

“Now that we have the labels and comments translated we should be able to figure that out,” Dee explained.

“It’s not for creating it,” Gadget inferred, “but for transporting it from one point to another.”

Dee, following the line of flow with her finger, stated, “It ends in a reservoir of some sort.”

“A larger holding tank?” Chip offered.

“No,” Gadget answered, “It’s a reservoir of water.”

“Isn’t the Allegany Reservoir near here?” asked Chip.

“Technically, the Reservoir ends here in town, everything downstream from here to the Kinzua Dam is the Allegany Reservoir... or what some of the elders still call Lake Perfidy,” Dee explained, “But that couldn’t be the reservoir mentioned here.” Pointing to part of the schematic, she continued, “See here, there’s a concrete and steel rebar wall that the pump has to pass through before it terminates... there’s nothing like that along the Reservoir, at least not fitting this description.”

“Can either of you think of any other kind of reservoirs that would have this kind of wall?” Chip asked the two mechanically inclined mice.

“Achully,” Gadget replied after some thought, “this looks similar to one of the reservoirs just above the city back home, where we get our drinking water.”

“You don’t mean Philippe intends to dump this into someone’s drinking water?” Monterrey inquired in disbelief.

“That’s what it looks like,” Gadget confirmed, “If only we knew which reservoir this was.”

Dee suddenly got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Chip, where did you find Philippe’s studio?” she asked.

“It was up past the end of Newton Street,” he answered.

“Oh o’dah,” Dee groaned in obvious distress.

“What?” Chip asked, “What’s wrong?”

“The city’s reservoir is at the end of Newton Street,” Dee pointed out, “This city’s reservoir, where we get our drinking water!”

“Wouldn’t filters prevent this from getting through into the tap water?” Chip questioned, with increasing concern.

“Doubtful,” Gadget replied, “The current standards for municipal water treatment wouldn’t catch something like this, not once it’s mixed into the water supply.”

Chip hesitated a moment before asking, “Dee... how many people rely on that reservoir for their tap water?”

Dee did some quick figuring in her head, “Roughly thirteen thousand five hundred humans, rodents, pets and other small mammals.”

“Crikey!” Monty commented at the thought.

“Why would Philippe want to poison so many people?!” Gadget inquired.

“He probably doesn’t even know the stuff is poisonous, that is if he was using the Powwow as a trial run,” Chip clarified, “With the exception of Dee, who knew the chef, we all assumed the soup was made with tap water... Philippe would probably think the same thing!”

“So he’d put this in the water supply without realizing it would kill thousands!” Gadget realized.

“Well, he threw away the plans for this pump,” Monty interjected hopefully, “Maybe he wrote it all off as being too much trouble.”

“Or he rejected it in favor of a better design,” Dee countered.

“Given the potential consequences we should assume he plans to put this stuff in the water supply one way or another,” Chip stated, “But we still don’t know why?”

“That bloke strikes me as one of them ‘modern’ artist types,” Monty commented, “Them’s the types that would wrap an entire building in plastic, or seal their own droppings in tin cans.” His last comment brought some incredulous looks from the others. “Well, Dale and I read about that in a Dave Barry article,” he confessed.

“And making an entire city belch is just stupid enough for someone like that to consider it art,” Chip agreed.

-to be continued...

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Sixteen

About the time Drywall arrived back at the workshop following his somewhat successful infiltration, Philippe was informed that his studio had a close encounter of the weasel kind.

“‘Ow could you let zat weasel escape?!” Philippe hollered at his amphibious minions, “And not only zat, ‘e took ze design for my pump!”

“But,” interjected one of the frogs, “you zrew out zat design when you, in your genius, devised one even better.”

“Zat eez not ze point!” the rat screamed as he picked up the frog and shook him violently... before letting him drop like so much garbage. “I saw zat weasel wiz zat chipmunk who was asking about ze belching at ze celebration,” Philippe began to explain, “Eef ‘e already suspects my involvement in zat, ‘e may conclude I intend to use such a pump to impregnate ze water supply wiz my formula, and in his uncultured ignorance may attempt to prevent me from completing my masterpiece!”

“Then we must stop him first,” sniveled a bug-eyed frog in a sinisterly eager manner, “Stop him, permanently!”

“IDIOT!” Philippe cried out, back-handing his subordinate across the studio, “I do not have time for such foolishness! Eef I kill him I would have to kill those who would continue his actions, zen zose who follow zem! All of zat would keep me distracted from my duty to my art! Zerefore, I must complete it before zis chipmunk and ‘is companions can interfere!”

“But, can you steal all ze parts you need to finish ze pump before zen?” another frog asked.

Philippe bellowed, throwing the poor frog in frustration, “OF COURSE NOT!! Zat eez why I am so furious at your failure to stop zat weasel!” Hitting, throwing, or otherwise acting out his anger on the frogs about him, he continued his tirade, “Because of your incompetence, ze world will be denied my GREATEST MASTERPIECE EVER!!”

“What if several of us went out to steal the parts simultaneously?” one of the battered amphibians offered weakly.

“Do I look like ze fool?” Philippe inquired rhetorically, “All of you togezer do not have ze skill, ze subtlety to steal wizout ze notice of ze public eye!” For suggesting something he felt was so ludicrous, the rat treated the frog to a one way flight across the studio. Hitting the far wall, he slid down into a tub of bright yellow paint. Seeing the frog pull himself out of the colored liquid, Philippe was struck with inspiration. “Zat eez eet!” he screamed as he began hurling frogs into different tubs of brightly colored paint. As they crawled out, he explained, “Now you look like ze poisonous toads! You can take what you will right in front of ze people and zey will not stop you out of fear of being poisoned! Now go!” As brightly colored frogs streamed from the entrance to Philippe’s studio, the rat cried out, “Cry havoc and let slip ze frogs of war! Or, at least, ze frogs of theft.” Turning to the rest of his admirers, he decreed, “Zere eez work for ze rest of you! Allons y!”

==

A knock at the door was answered by William, the others in Dee’s workshop being preoccupied with other things. A female rat, looking a little bewildered, was waiting outside.

“May I help you?” William asked politely.

“Well, I don’t know,” she started, trying to order her thoughts, “Is Doohickey here?”

The squirrel showed the lady in and led her to his employer. Dee was still discussing the filched pump plans with the Rangers when her attention was diverted by the arrival of the newcomer. “Excuse me,” William began, addressing Dee, “but a Miss...” he turned towards the rat.

“Uh, oh, Rhea,” she stated.

“A Miss Rhea wished to see you,” the squirrel finished.

“What about?” Dee laconically asked.

“Um, well, I, uh,” Rhea muttered, “See, I was wondering if you had something, a spray, device, or something, that could keep poisonous toads away?”

“Planning a vacation in the tropics, are you?” Monty inquired.

“No,” the rat returned, “Planning to keep them out of my place.”

“Here, in town?” Dee asked. Rhea nodded readily. “But there aren’t any native to this part of the country,” Dee explained.

“Well maybe they’re the ones on vacation!” Rhea replied in an exasperated tone, “But the depot is crawling with them... They’re grabbing things out of people’s paws, even going into people’s homes and taking out,” here she paused as she though back on what she saw one of the toads carrying out of her neighbor’s residence, “push-pins...”

“Sounds like a crime wave!” Dale promptly concluded.

“The depot over here?” Dee asked, motioning in the general direction of the depot within the same abandoned rail yard as her workshop.

“They’re all over the place!” Rhea confirmed.

“Golly, maybe we should check this out,” Gadget suggested.

“Are you sure they were poisonous toads?” Chip asked, reflecting on the fact that the only large group of amphibians he knew of were Philippe’s following, “Maybe they were frogs.”

“I know what frogs look like!” Rhea snapped, “They’re not red, yellow or blue!”

Chip thought for a moment. “Monty, you’ve had more experience with poisonous toads than the rest of us,” the chipmunk assumed, “You stay here with Dee and Gadget and come up with some kind of deterrent.” Turning to the Rhea, he continued, “Take me back to the depot, I’d like to see these toads for myself.” The lady hesitantly consented.

“Hey, Chip, can I go too?” Dale piped up.

Chip sighed, “Sure, c’mon.”

“Me too?” Foxglove then intoned, “I can get a bird’s eye view... well, bat’s eye at least.”

Chip nodded. “Anyone else?” he asked, looking towards Raven.

The young mouse shook her head innocently. However, once Chip and party had left the workshop, she grabbed Fangs by the wing and exited the building.

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Sixteen continued...

==

“They were here!” Rhea protested when she and the others arrived at the abandoned depot, a site now completely devoid of amphibious activity. But the throngs of residents congregating out in the open without any other apparent reason for the assembly made it evident that something out of the ordinary had indeed happened.

“Dale, I want you to go around and ask people what, if anything, was stolen. Try to get a description of the perps,” tuning to Foxglove, he continued, “Foxy, I want you to get a look from the air, see if you can spot anyone suspicious, toad or otherwise, leaving the area.” As the others departed, Chip addressed the rat, “Rhea, I want you to take me to one of your neighbors you know was stolen from, I’d like to speak to them.”

As Chip was initiating his investigation, Raven and Fangs were already on the hunt for the croaking crooks themselves. “We should have told someone we were doing this,” Fangs protested as they left the rail yard, “just in case something goes wrong.”

“Where’s the fun in that,” Raven replied lightly, “Keep your ears open for anything that sounds like trouble.”

The pair hadn’t gone very far, were even still within site of the depot Chip and the others were investigating, when ‘trouble’ was heard. “THAT CREEP STOLE MY CANE!” a lady hollered. Both Raven and Fangs turned towards the apparent origin just in time to see a yellow amphibian frantically hop around the corner of the building and head in their general direction.

The young mouse, clad in her black cloak, didn’t hesitate to charge the suspected thief. “Hold it right there slime ball!” Raven shouted as she approached. Her quarry came to a screeching halt upon realizing someone wasn’t in the least deterred by the lethal secretions of a poisonous toad, turned and prepared to flee in the opposite direction. However, Raven closed the distance before he could get up a good head of steam. “Gotcha, you thieving bastard!” Raven declared triumphantly as she locked her arms around him.

Finding himself restrained, the criminal began howling like a fiend and thrashed about in a mad panic. Raven planted her feet and held tight as her captive wiggled and wailed. Feeling a sudden coolness on her legs, the mouse peered down as best she could, given the situation, and noticed she and her opponent were standing in a puddle. It took a moment for the realization to set in. “Eeww!” Raven spouted in revulsion as she discovered just how terrified her captive had become. Feeling his captor involuntarily release him, the panicked amphibian made good his escape. Dropping his loot, and still screaming in fear, he hopped like the wind. “Get back here you disgusting freak!” Raven angrily hollered after him.

Regarding his love as she waddled awkwardly out of the puddle, Fangs commented, “Unless you grabbed an extra pair of jeans before heading out on this little adventure, you’re probably going to have to explain this to the others.”

==

“Any luck?” Gadget asked when Chip, Dale and Foxglove returned from their expedition.

“Yes and no,” Chip replied, “There were poisonous toads stealing things left and right...”

“Foxy even spotted a couple from the air!” Dale interjected sprightly.

“But by the time we got to the site they were long gone,” Chip finished, “I really wanted to get a look at one of them myself.”

Before Chip could continue to commiserate the lost opportunity, Raven and Fangs returned from their respective outing. “Well hey there, pardner,” Dale drawled in an overly Western accent, inspired by the way Raven sauntered in like a cowboy, “Just get back from the cattle drive?”

“Oh, shut up,” the mouse growled.

“What happened?” Dee asked.

Before Raven could answer, Fangs declared, “She grabbed one of those toads.”

“He stole someone’s cane,” Raven proceeded to recount, “I chased him down, grabbed him... and the coward wet himself in fright.”

Dale adopted his best Charlie Chan accent as he sagely advised, “Confucius say, frogs and toads sit around all day drinking water just in case someone pick them up.”

“That was Hobbes, you dummy!” Chip pointed out.

“Did you bring an extra pair of jeans?” Dee asked her daughter.

“They’re back at the mill,” Raven glumly explained.

“Well, I’ve got a washer and dryer set up here, it’ll take less time than going all the way there and back” her mother explained, “If you don’t mind wearing a washcloth for a while.” As Dee led Raven to a suitable changing room, the younger deposited her cloak on a workbench as she passed. Once Raven had a washcloth to wrap herself in she entered the changing room with her mother remaining just outside. As she waited, Dee inquired into an issue that troubled her, “What, exactly, possessed you to attack what could very well have been a poisonous toad?”

“He stole something and I was trying to stop him,” Raven proceeded to answer, “It’s not like the poison could have hurt me while I was wearing my cloak.”

Dee felt compelled to point out what she deemed a flaw in her daughter’s logic, “That cloak is meant to protect you from weapons meant to harm you, not naturally occurring secretions.”

“Put it on the end of a toothpick and stick it in a straw and it’s suddenly considered a weapon,” Raven countered, “Why should it be any different if it’s still on the toad?”

As the back and forth continued in the time honored tradition of protective parents and reckless offspring the world over, Gadget took a scientific interest in the girl’s mystical garb, pondering methods of determining what its limits really were. Inspecting it closely she discovered that it appeared to be covered in yellow speckles. “Monty,” Gadget proceeded to inquire, “Do poisonous toads shed?”

“What’s t’ shed?” the Aussie replied, “It’s not like they have fur, feathers or scales.”

Chip wandered over to see what Gadget had found so interesting. Seeing her delicately remove a yellow flake with a pair of improvised tweezers, he interrupted the mother-daughter discussion that was growing increasingly heated. “Raven, what color was that toad you attacked?” Chip asked.

“Yellow,” answered the young mouse before diving back into the argument with her mother.

“Check to see if that’s paint, Gadget,” Chip suggested to his future sister-in-law, who was already making ready to do an analysis of the mystery flake.

After some moments Gadget reported, “It’s definitely paint, Chip!”

“That’s what I thought!” he declared, “I bet those were Philippe’s frogs carrying out that looting!”

“See? Painted frogs, perfectly harmless,” Raven remarked to her mother.

“That doesn’t matter,” Dee fired back, “You didn’t know that at the time so they could have been poisonous, in which case you could have gotten yourself killed!” Not giving her daughter a chance to interrupt, she continued with barely a breath, “I’ve already lost one child and I don’t want to have to go through that all over again, and if I have to resort to grounding you to keep you from getting yourself killed that’s exactly what I’ll do!”

Raven was only a moment away from declaring ‘I’d like to see you try!’ knowing full well it was unenforceable with someone who could become invisible, but realized it would unnecessarily strain their relationship. Given the disastrous results the last time they had a falling out, she decided to let it go. Walking out, wrapped in a washcloth and carrying her clothes, she simply stated, “Mom, I’ve been peed on by a frog... I think I’ve been punished enough.”

As Dee left to launder Raven’s clothes, the focus returned to other matters. “Why would Philippe send his frogs out to steal things?” Gadget wondered.

“Some kind of performance art?” Monty ventured.

“I don’t know for sure,” Chip replied, “but they’re still stealing and on the verge of causing a general panic on top of it... It has to stop. We have to tell the local authorities that it’s perfectly safe to detain these ‘poisonous toads’.” When Dee returned, Chip inquired, “Where’s the headquarters for the city’s non-human police?”

“It’s in the old city hall, where Dry- I mean, where Snoop’s trial was held,” Dee answered, “You can talk to the city police, I’ll get in touch with the tribe’s Chief.”

“Maybe you should pass on word that someone might be trying to poison the water supply while you’re at it,” Monty suggested.

“I think things are bad enough with people afraid that poisonous toads are looting the city,” Chip countered, “I don’t think we should risk word getting out that the water might be poisoned when we don’t know for certain when, or even if it’ll happen.” As he and Dee prepared to depart, he added, “After we let the authorities on to the truth about these toads we can pay Philippe a visit... we may not have to worry anybody about the water depending on how that goes.”

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Sixteen continued...

==

“Ah, Ms Hawkfeather, I’m glad I finally haff a chance to meet you!” the Chief warmly greeted his visitor as he rose from his seat and crossed the office, “We were all a little concerned when you didn’t turn up after you were named the new Clan Mother.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Dee responded blandly, still not comfortable with her new status. “Are you aware there are poisonous toads rampaging through the city?” she asked, wanting to get right down to business.

“Haffent heard that,” he answered honestly, offering Dee a seat as he returned to his own, “Didn’t know we had poisonous toads around here.”

“We don’t,” Dee confirmed, “but that’s not the point, they’re just frogs painted to look like poisonous toads. Apparently it’s an effort to get away with stealing things without anyone interfering... I’m just here to tell you that the tribal police shouldn’t hesitate to apprehend them since there’s no danger of being poisoned, my fiancé is informing the city police as we speak.”

The Chief nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll get the word out,” he agreed, “We’ll probably haff to work out with the city prosecutor whose jurisdiction they fall under for trial purposes... I guess it depends who they stole from.” Dee gave a nod and stood to leave, but before she could even get all the way up the Chief spoke up, “Now, I don’t know whether you were aware of it or not, but your predecessor neffer offered her endorsement for my being Chief...” He intentionally trailed off, hoping his guest would get the message.

“And you want mine?” Dee inquired somewhat annoyed. The last thing she wanted was to get caught up in ‘tribal business’ when she hadn’t even decided whether or not she intended to keep her office.

“I would appreciate it,” the Chief replied, a little surprised by her tone.

“Do you need it?” Dee inquired further, looking for a way out.

“Well, no,” the Chief answered awkwardly, “I already haff the endorsement of most of the Clan Mothers so it’s not a necessity.”

Dee thought through things quickly and replied, “Well, since I’ve never met you before today and this meeting has only lasted a minute or so I think it’s a little early for me to make such a decision.”

As the lady turned to leave, the Chief began speaking again, “Maybe we could arrange some time to discuss matters then, get to know each other, give you an idea of how my administration has contributed to the well-being of the tribe?”

“I’m a little pressed for time,” Dee pointed out, turning back around. Crossing her arms in a way that made it impossible to miss the engagement ring she wore, as she felt the Chief’s interest was more social than professional, she explained, “I’m meeting up with my fiancé and his friends to go speak with a rat about his drawing smutty pictures of my sister.”

“You have a sister?” the Chief inquired as much out of surprise as interest. Dee rolled her eyes and proceeded to leave. “Esgöge:ae’,” he called after her as she left.

“Yeah,” drawled the reluctant Clan Mother as the door closed.

Carol, who had been waiting outside the Chief’s office for the latter part of the meeting, had made herself scarce when matters came to a close. Waiting for her niece to be well out of sight, she proceeded in to meet with the Chief herself. For the Chief, she was a welcome site, especially after the rather chilly back and forth he had just had with the newest Clan Mother... Carol never failed to be friendly to him in a good way. “Hae’!” she chirped, hopping up to sit on the corner of his desk.

“Good efening, Ms Halfshell,” the Chief greeted his new visitor with a broad smile. “How can I...” he became distracted momentarily as Carol crossed her legs which, considering the rather short skirt she had made sure to wear for this visit, gave him a rather good view of her thighs... which weren’t bad for a mouse of her years, “h-help you?”

“I wanted to talk to you about some poisonous toads,” she opened.

“Ms Hawkfeather already spoke to me about them,” the Chief pointed out, “I was about to issue an order for the tribal police to apprehend them if they’re found stealing anything... they’re apparently just painted frogs.”

“That’s what worries me,” Carol said, “How do we know all of them are? Some might be frogs trying to take adfantage of the situation by slapping some paint on themselfes in hopes of getting in on the looting.” As Carol playfully kicked her foot in the air, she continued to state her position, “I mean, are the worldly possessions of our citizens worth the lifes of our tribe’s peace officers? Would you want to haff to explain to their families, ‘Well gee, I thought they were just painted frogs’... Possessions can be replaced, lifes can’t.” Carol regarded the Chief as he rolled the matter around in his mind. She decided to bring up another purpose for caution on his part, “Can you imagine the reaction on the part of our people if our officers start dropping like flies? The kind of outcry there would be, the kind of pressure we, the Clan Mothers, would be under to find a replacement for the person who needlessly sent so many of our officers to their deaths?”

“The city officers are being told the same thing concerning these ‘toads’,” the Chief countered, “The city’s likely to act on this information pretty quickly.”

“If the city officers all jumped off a bridge should ours do it too?” Carol asked rhetorically, “If their officers wind up dead that’s their problem, not ours. You’ve shown that you always put the good of our tribe first... Is this really worth the lives of our citizens?”

“I guess you’re right,” the Chief conceded, “I’ll inform the officers to hold back and to tell the people to secure their homes but not risk their lives over this.”

“Oh, nya:weh!” Carol cooed, hopping off the desk, bending down and giving the Chief a peck on the cheek. “Esgöge:ae’!” she waved as she sprightly walked towards the door.

“Oh, uh, dinner this Friday at 7? Red Garter?” the Chief asked before Carol could make her exit.

“I’d luff to!” she squeaked, “See you then!” As Carol made her way from the Tribal Administrative offices, she shook her head, “If the other Clan Mothers were male I’d own this tribe.”

-to be continued...

[ksharbaugh]

Chapter Seventeen

Chip and his fiancé arrived back at the workshop very nearly simultaneously. They both reported success in convincing the local authorities to take action against the painted frog epidemic that was plaguing the community. With that issue presumably aside, matters turned to how best to deal with Philippe and his apparent interest in tampering with the local water supply.

“I say we all go, rush the blighter, and put him in traction before he can even get all his pieces in place!” Monty declared boldly.

“Monty,” Gadget chided gently, “He may be genuinely unaware that what he’s doing could cause any harm... for that matter, we don’t even know for sure that he actually does intend to tamper with the water supply.”

“I say I go in and break his paws so he can’t keep drawing smutty pictures of you,” Dee responded to her sister’s pacifistic rebuke.

“Aye!” Monty agreed readily, “But I want in on the action too.”

“I’ll take his right paw, you take his left?” Dee offered in a civil manner.

“Hold it!” Chip interrupted, “Before we decide to resort to arbitrary use of random violence-”

“What random?” Dee broke in, “We made a consensual agreement to specifically target his paws.” Chip fixed a gaze on his love that made it clear that this wasn’t the time for such humor. “Sorry,” she conceded.

“As I was saying,” Chip continued, “Before we decide to use force, we should be sure it’s necessary. We’ll talk to Philippe about the matter... and go from there.”

“Given the reception we received when we went to speak to him earlier,” Gadget began, “it seems unlikely he’d be open to granting an immediate audience.” For a brief moment, she pondered the possibility of going alone, given Philippe’s infatuation with her he might readily speak with her. However, even though her dislike of him was nowhere near as visceral as her sister’s, the thought of being alone with him and his frogs made her skin crawl.

“If we go in force and make it clear that we intend to speak with him about important matters,” Chip suggested, “we may be able to pressure our way in to meet with him.” Dee let out a little whine and gazed at her fiancé with large, expectant eyes. For a moment, Chip wasn’t sure what she was up to... then it occurred to him. “No crossbows,” he told her.

==

The passengers of both the Ranger Plane and Ranger Wing disembarked within walking distance of the entrance to Philippe’s studio. Chip, Dale, Gadget, Monterrey Jack, Zipper, Dee, Raven and Snoop approached the clearing as a group, and were nearly out in the open when they noticed the wall of green.

“Looks like the welcome wagon’s out to greet us,” Dale commented upon seeing the mass of frogs arrayed in an orderly formation blocking the entrance.

“I don’t think that’s the type of greeting we’d want,” Gadget added when she spotted what the frogs were holding.

“Crikey! Where’d they get the cutlery?” Monty inquired, referring to the paring knives, sharpened forks, steak knives and letter openers Gadget had spied.

“Probably came from the armory,” Snoop offered.

“What armory?” Chip asked the weasel.

“The one that rat has in his studio,” Snoop clarified.

“Philippe has an armory?!” Chip asked in obvious annoyance. Snoop nodded his head.

“Why didn’t you tell us he had an armory?!” Dee asked, even more peeved than her love.

“No one asked,” Snoop stated plainly. Dee promptly proceeded to throttle him.

“Wait!” Chip shouted as he pried Dee’s paws from the mustelid’s throat. “We don’t strangle other members of the team!” he scolded her once Snoop was free.

“I say we rush ‘em!” Monty declared, “I’ve taken longer odds than this... though they weren’t armed.”

“That’s not an option,” Chip shot back, “At least not yet.” Feeling compelled to explain his hesitancy, he pointed out, “We don’t know how many more frogs might be inside if we get past the ones standing guard, and we can’t even be certain we can get past them... with those weapons we’re not only outnumbered we’re outgunned.”

“Out-knifed, achully,” Gadget corrected.

“Knives-shmives,” Raven remarked as she bolted towards the clearing. Dee was already getting ready to act upon hearing the tone of her daughter’s voice. Raven hadn’t gotten more than a few strides before something pulled at her. She tried to stop but her forward momentum caused her to advance just far enough to slip out of her cloak. Looking back in confusion, she saw her mother standing there, clutching the cloak in her paws. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Raven shouted.

“See how easy this came off?” Dee practically snarled at the youth, shaking the cloth article with one paw, “In the kind of brawl you were about to get into this cloak is more of a liability than anything else!”

“It’s not like it’s a weapon,” Raven countered angrily, “I can fight perfectly fine without it!”

“Against fifteen or twenty opponents,” Dee gesticulated towards the green guardians, “once this slides off in their grip all those knifes become a fery real danger, and I will not see my daughter carfed up like a Christmas ham!”

“Fine!” Raven hissed as she returned to the group. Grabbing her cloak with one of her paws, she was startled as her mother quickly grabbed her wrist and squeezed... hard.

“If I gif this back to you and you charge those frogs again,” Dee growled through clenched teeth, “I will not safe you!”

Raven had never heard her mother’s native accent before, and for the most part was never really cognizant that she would have one. The strange voice combined with the pain in her wrist and Dee’s intense stare meant that she, for the first time since being reunited with her biological mother, was actually frightened of her. Raven had no way to know that her mother was even more terrified than she was and on the verge of tears. “Alright!” the girl squeaked in compliance. When her mother released her grip, Raven held her cloak in her paws and stared at the ground for what seemed like quite a while from her perspective. Then, very self consciously, put her cloak back on.

“Well, I suppose we should head back to the workshop and work on the best way past those frogs,” Chip sighed.

“Wait, I have an idea,” Gadget stated cautiously as she walked towards the clearing, “You remember how Philippe responded the first time we were here?” As Gadget slowly walked towards the frogs, she hoped Philippe’s hearing was as acute as it appeared to be during that first visit. When the guards caught sight of her and turned to face her, weapons prepared for use, she figured that was as close as she could get safely. Raising her paw to wave, she prepared to say, loud enough to be heard in the studio, ‘Hi! May I speak to Philippe?’. However, no sooner was her paw raised than the first line of frogs charged at her screaming. Leaping back, Gadget began to hop sideways towards the cover of the surrounding foliage, preparing to run. Seeing her withdrawal, the amphibians halted their advance. Slowing to a walk, Gadget continued her sideways retreat, not wanting to turn her back on her potential attackers.

“Can we return to the workshop now?” Snoop inquired nervously once Gadget was safely concealed by the shadows.

“Yeah, let’s go,” confirmed Chip.

Once airborne, the team was met by Foxglove and Fangs. “Did you have any luck?” Dale inquired of the two.

“A little more than the rest of you,” Fangs commented.

“We found what looks like the pump near the reservoir,” Foxglove elaborated, “and we noticed the guard frogs blocking your way.”

“Looks like ‘avin a polite talk with Philippe is out of the question at this point,” Monty pointed out.

Once all had returned to the workshop, Chip laid out the situation. “Philippe clearly intends to put that stuff into the water supply no matter what. Regardless of why or whether or not he knows the consequences of what he’s doing, he has to be stopped.”

“What if we go in and destroy the pump,” Dale offered, “we could do something like that from the air.”

Dee let out a delighted squeal. “I installed missile racks on the Banshee over the winter!” she explained excitedly, “Now I have an excuse to build some missiles!”

“Are all the females in your family this belligerent?” Chip asked.

“I’m not,” Gadget replied.

“Heh, tell that t’ Bubbles!” Monty laughed remembering how sweet little Gadget took on the thug’s army of ninjas alone.

“I don’t really think that counts, Monty,” Gadget countered, “Those were very different circumstances and a single incident whereas Dee and Raven have both repeatedly demonstrated-”

“Luv,” Monty interrupted, placing a paw on her shoulder, “I was only joking.”

“Oh, ok,” Gadget acceded, “But, back on the main topic, there are two problems with Dee’s plan to strafe the pump... ‘A’, Philippe could just build another, and another after that if we destroy that one. He’s the one that has to be dealt with. And ‘B’, since we don’t know how far along his pump actually is, a missile attack could result in an uncontrolled release of the chemical into the reservoir, causing the very thing we’re trying to prevent.”

“Meaning we still have to get past the frogs,” commented Gadget’s sister.

“Seems t’ me,” Monty began, quite thoughtfully, “Considering the response of that frog Raven accosted earlier, the courage of the ones guarding the studio may be all in their weapons, not in their hearts. If we went after them with somethin’ their knives can’t handle they might drop their weapons and head for the hills.”

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Seventeen continued...

“What about the wolves?” Chip asked, looking to his fiancé.

Dee thought it over for a few seconds. “I’d really rather not,” she replied slowly, “Virginia’s already sore over Romulus and Honker following me to the city on my vacation, and if I start asking him or any of the others to risk discovery by the humans for things like this... well, she would not allow the survival of the pack to be put at risk over something like this.” There was a pause before she added, “Besides, I don’t want to further the image of me as being someone who has the pack do my bidding.”

“What if we built something that could scare the frogs?” Gadget suggested.

William, who was lingering in the vicinity and following the back and forth, stepped in. Addressing his employer, he made his proposal, “May I suggest something made from your ‘special’ stockpile? I am sure such materials could be quite disconcerting if employed properly.”

“What do you mean, ‘special’ stockpile?” Dale inquired.

“Hey!” Dee thought out loud, before answering Dale’s question, “He means my collection of skeletal remains.” As she and her assistant left for an adjoining room, the others followed out of morbid curiosity.

“Why would you collect skeletons?” Fangs asked, not entirely sure he wanted an answer.

“Certain bones have structural qualities that can’t be bested by artificial materials,” Dee explained, “The Banshee itself was partially constructed by specially treated bird bones. I’ve asked the wolves to save me some deer bones from their kills, I keep some of them here.” Pulling a lever, a panel on the floor slid aside and the clanking of gears and creaking of cables heralded the ascent of a hidden platform from below. The first sight was a set of antlers rising from the hole. They rose higher and higher till they towered over the rodents. Beneath the antlers, the deer’s skull rose forth, facing the assemblage. Given the dreary darkness that pervaded the storage area, it’s appearance was indeed disconcerting. As the platform came to a sudden halt at floor level, the vibrations dislodged chunks of old electronic components which tumbled down towards the skull. A random spark, left from when the parts were still part of a functioning item, leapt out and ignited the collection of cob webs that had collected within the empty skull. Flames shot forth form it’s gaping eye sockets.

Dale, who had been approaching the remains, nearly jumped out of his fur with a startled yelp... and landed in Monty’s arms. “A lot less scary when it’s in the movies, eh lad?” the Aussie joked.

“I wasn’t scared!” Dale protested as he climbed down, “I was just... startled.”

“It’s beautiful!” Dee shouted, having been struck with inspiration. “It’ll be a marvelous monster! We can hook up some fuel lines and have flames shooting from it’s eyes,” she declared, gesturing wildly with her arms, “We can use the ribs like spider legs,” she continued, dropping to the floor and scuttling about as best she could with only four limbs, “And sounds... it needs a hideous cackle! Yeh-heh-heh-heh-heh!” Dee scuttled out of the room, still cackling, to start drawing up plans for her monster. Gadget politely followed.

“Y’ know, I think I saw Daffy Duck do that once,” Dale remarked. “I’m a fiddler crab!” he shouted, dropping to the floor and imitating Dee and Daffy, “Shoot me! It’s fiddler crab season!”

Chip quicky bonked him on the head. “Do that again and I might,” he scolded, realizing such a scene was a great deal more creepy in real life than in a cartoon.

Gadget and her sister worked well into the evening designing and then constructing their mechanical monstrosity. The endeavor, for the most part was free of ‘oops’, ‘uh-oh’s, ‘it-should-work’s and explosions. There was only one major, nearly calamitous incident that occurred when Monty, spurred on by curiosity, wandered into the assembly area. As he entered, a screaming deer skull came tearing in his direction. He fell on his backside as it came to a screeching halt only a foot away.

Dee and Gadget’s heads popped out of either eye socket, Gadget from the left and Dee from the right. “What d’ya know,” Dee remarked to her sister, “Those brakes you came up with do work! I owe you a soda.”

“Sorry about that, Monty,” Gadget called down, “If we had anticipated anyone coming in during the accelerator and brake tests we would have gone in a different direction, after all, it’s not exactly polite to scare the living bejeebers out of one’s friends, even more so when one isn’t adequately certain of the functionality of the braking-” Gadget’s apology was cut short as Dee grabbed her collar and pulled her back inside.

“Strike me starkers!” Monty gasped as the skull spun about and rolled off, “That’ll replace the cat-zombies in my nightmares!”

As night embraced the land, one by one everyone retired to makeshift beds set in the workshop. With most of the work finished on their freakish fabrication, Gadget and Dee bid their monster good-night and went their separate ways- Dee to her cot and Gadget to a personal project she hoped to have completed for the next day.

The sun had barely been up more than a few minutes before the dedicated inventors began putting finishing touches on their creation. Chip waited anxiously; he wanted to work out a ‘plan of attack’ while he waited but knew any plan was dependent on knowing the capabilities of the monster the ladies were assembling which wasn’t yet finished. However, just as it seemed Chip’s wait was over, as the ladies called everyone’s attention, there was a knock at the door. Matters were put on hold as William escorted a male mouse inside.

“Ms Hawkfeather?” the visitor addressed her as he approached, “Could you talk to the Chief about those toads? The city’s cops are out in force... not like there’s any reason, though, all the toads are in the areas where there’s only Seneca mice! And you know the city cops, they stay out of those areas ‘cause they’re afraid Halfshell ‘ll start causin trouble again, saying the city’s trying to take ofer!”

“I talked to the Chief,” Dee pointed out, somewhat confused by the matter that had been presented, “Yesterday I talked to him, he told me he’d get the cops out on the street immediately!”

“Well they’re not on our streets!” Dee’s guest replied.

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that idiot,” Dee growled, “I’m gonna hafta pay him another visit!”

“Should we hold off the unveiling?” Gadget asked.

“Nah,” Dee replied quickly, “We shouldn’t waste time waiting on me, just as long as I’m back in time to storm Philippe’s place.” As she strode for the door, she yelled, “Mom told me not to get infolfed in tribal politics, dammit!”

A minute or so after the door slammed shut, everyone’s attention returned to Gadget. Standing before a large oil and paint stained curtain, she proceeded with the presentation. “William, could you pull back the curtain?”

“My pleasure,” the squirrel readily agreed. As the curtain was pulled to one side, Gadget held up a small improvised control panel.

Revealed to the waiting rodents, chiropterans and insect was a ghastly vision seemingly wrenched from the infernal underworld itself. Protruding from a dark brown, hairy, elliptical body was the deer skull complete with the lower jaw, and eight of the deer’s bowed ribs spread about like spider’s legs. Gadget depressed a button on the control panel and the monster came to life. The ‘legs’ rose and fell as if it were walking in place. A soul-splitting, shrieking cackle filled the workshop as the skull reared up, shaking form side to side with it’s horrible maw hanging open and flames leaping from it’s eyes. Everyone involuntarily stepped back.

“Neat, huh?” Gadget spouted happily as the creature returned to it’s previous calm, “We named it Frog Stomper!”

Everyone continued to stare at it for a moment, before Chip hesitantly offered, “Uh, yeah, neat.”

“Achully, ‘Frog Stomper’ is an acronym,” Gadget pointed out, “It stands for ‘Fully Remotely Operated, Gyroscopically Stabilized, Terrestrially Oriented, Mechanical Panic Evoking Resource.”

“Which came first?” Monty inquired, getting over his initial awe of the monstrosity, “The name ‘Frog Stomper’ or... whatever it is?”

“Dee wanted to call it ‘Frog Stomper’, but I didn’t think it fit since it’s not designed to actually ‘stomp’ the frogs,” Gadget explained, “So we came up with a name that was appropriately descriptive yet could still work out to be ‘Frog Stomper’.”

“Think we could take this home with us?” Dale asked developing a wicked grin, “I’d like to introduce this thing to Fat Cat!”

[ksharbaugh]

-Chapter Seventeen continued...

==

The Chief was startled by a loud banging on his office door. “Come in?” he replied cautiously. The door swung open as Dee stormed in. Quickly slamming the door behind her, she stared at the Chief as he sat in his chair.

“I know I said I’d order the tribal police to deal with those toads,” he eventually began, deducing that was the most likely reason for the visitation.

“Frogs,” Dee corrected.

“Alleged frogs,” the Chief countered, trying his best to seem confident, “After you left last efening it occurred to me that...” He paused, trying to find a way to explain his position in a way that didn’t make it look like he’d been led around by the nose by a third party. “A bunch of frogs painting themselves isn’t normal, they had to have gotten their inspiration from somewhere... like actual poisonous toads they’d seen breaking into people’s homes.”

Dee was about to loudly berate him for his idiocy but was interrupted by a knock at the Chief’s door. “Joseph,” June Redtalon called out imperiously, “I need to speak to you on a matter of the greatest urgency.”

“Listen,” Dee hissed at the Chief, leaning over his desk, “I’m late for an invasion so I won’t waste time debating. There’d better not be any painted frogs on the streets when I get back!” Standing upright, she called back to the other Clan Mother, “Just a minute.” Walking to the door, she opened it and stepped out.

Just as Dee began to pass her colleague, June gently blocked her path with her cane. “Painted frogs?” she quietly inquired.

“Oh yeah,” Dee nodded, “I told him about this yesterday!”

After allowing Dee to leave, June motioned her assistant to wheel her into the office. “You can wait outside,” she told him once they were in. Alone in the office with the Chief, she held out her cane, brandishing the head at the mouse across the desk. “Do you know what this is?” she asked.

“Your cane?” the Chief replied.

“The speckles,” June clarified, “the little colored speckles on it.” The Chief, leaning forward to take a closer look, merely shook his head. “IT’S PAINT!” June bellowed, slamming the head of her cane onto the desk. The Chief fell backwards into his chair. “One of those frogs tried to take a wheel off my chair while I was sitting in it,” she recounted calmly, “I clocked him a few times and his paint started to come off. Doohickey told me she told you about this yesterday... It’s fairly obfious you didn’t do anything about it.” The Chief opened his mouth to explain, but June cut him off, “I don’t care what your excuse is, so don’t bore me with it.” Not wanting to waste further time, she spelled things out clearly, “I know you don’t have Doohickey’s endorsement, you’re about to lose mine, and you know Charity usually agrees with me... all we need to do is confince one more Clan Mother and you’re out on your ass.”

“Those frogs will be off the streets by the end of the day,” the Chief complied obediently.

“They damn well better be,” June warned.

-to be continued...