SECHS - THE DODGING GAME: WHO NEEDS A ROMANTIC DINNER, ANYWAYS?
From: nanananananananana_batgirl@mobileaccess.com.us
To: mountofoaks@mobileaccess.com.us
Dear Mom and Dad,
How are you? It’s been a long time since the wedding, hasn’t it? Are you all busy preparing for hibernation? I’ve been quite busy too, or should I say, Dale and I have been *very* busy! As you know, I’m a bat, so I’m “busy” during the fall, not the spring as you chipmunks are. But that brings me to my next question. Up until September, Dale and I have had no problems at all. In fact, it seemed that the honeymoon just kept going and going and going! I don’t know if any other female bat has felt what I’ve felt for Dale all this time, especially with my Fall Fever. But lately, it seems that Dale has lost interest. Well, maybe not lost, but just…diminished…I guess. It’s really strange because up until September he really didn’t have any problems at all in keeping up with me! And all the work we’ve had here really hasn’t helped at all. I’m sure you heard of the building that collapsed and all the work we had to do there, and then he got a bad case of indigestion that kept him away from me for a week! He saw Doctor Qandlier, who prescribed lots of exercise. And he’s doing exercise, but in the gym, not with me. I’ve been wondering if maybe I’m wearing him out, but I asked him that and he said he thought he was wearing *me* out! I know we’re newlyweds and it’s Fall Fever for me, but I wanted to ask you if his behaviour is normal, or if I’m pushing him too hard. Please write back soon.
Love,
Foxglove
From: mountofoaks@mobileaccess.com.us
To: nanananananananana_batgirl@mobileaccess.com.us
Dear Daughter,
How are you and the greatest mammal and insect heroes of the 20th Century? We were worried when we read that Dale had a bad case of indigestion. That was also a surprise for us, since the last time Dale got indigestion was when he accidentally ate some wild mushrooms back when he was still living with us. Dale usually can handle anything you serve in front of him, so this must have been a very rare incident for him. As for his behaviour, well, we find it odd as well. He told us about Gadget before, and there were the times he was dating up here (don’t worry, he stayed clean), and he sure seemed full of energy then. Now that he has consummated a relationship with you, things will naturally be different, but Pierre can’t believe that any son of his can be worn down by a Fever of ANY season. Foxy, it’s natural for males to need more rest than females do, especially for male chipmunks during this time of the year (hibernation instincts), and even more for Dale because he’s married to *you*. Maybe he’s ashamed to tell you that and he doesn’t want to disappoint you or tarnish his performance. Be patient with him and give him time to rest. Since you’re starting your married life, it’s normal for you to encounter “speed bumps” such as this one. But don’t worry. You two are starting out and are discovering each other. Take your time in learning what you both like and don’t like. It’s also during this time when you both learn where all your “switches” are. Maybe you still need to find a few on him, just like he may find a few you never knew you had!
Have fun!
And tell that son of ours to write soon.
Love,
Pierre & Dalee
P.S.:
(I added this just before we sent the e-mail. Don’t tell him I told you, but during our first spring together I actually wore *Pierre* down! – Dalee)
During the week that Dale was immersed in exercise, Foxglove decided to try an idea one night. Perhaps, with all the activities that were happening inside the tree-house, the atmosphere didn’t allow for a prolonged romantic mood. And maybe Pierre and Dalee were right, Dale *needed* a little rest from their marital bliss. But tonight, Dale would think differently.
*Much* differently.
She winced for a moment as she was setting up the “trap”, because her pectorals were quite sore after the workout in the wind tunnel. So far, she found out she could fly non-stop for fifteen minutes at 30 mph *without* eating, meaning she could maintain her cruising speed for seven and a half miles before stopping or needing to refuel. Tomorrow they would find out what her top non-diving speed was and for how long she could keep it up: her “turbo speed”. And in time, both rates would increase, in proportion to her muscle tone. It seemed her excess energy caused by her Fall Fever could be used for things other than long romantic nights. Tonight, however, her excess energy would be put to its intended use. And she was determined to learn what hidden switches he had as well. She already knew of one, and it was on the table. Her ears perked up and her tail blurred as she heard the ‘munk of her dreams approaching.
The chipmunk, now showered, wearing his standard Hawaiian shirt, and holding his sweaty workout clothes, entered the bedroom, wondered why it was so dark, was about to turn on the light—
And was greeted with a very interesting kiss.
Or so thought the bat lady, because Dale thought that the monster wanted to suck the life out of him again. His fur bristled and his ears fell back, and he struggled a bit as the monster pinned his arms to his sides again—
This monster tasted suspiciously of lipstick.
And she smelled different, too. In fact, he was certain she even felt different, because she was now covered with—
Satin?
Breaking off the kiss and the embrace, and raising his ears, he padded back to look at the monster—
Which for some reason looked like his wife, except that she was now dressed in a very nicely cut purple dress, which somehow made her eerie blue eyes glow—
Eerily?
“……Luceeeeeeeeeelle……” whispered the monster, for some reason. Foxglove again interpreted his racing heartbeat and flat ears to be the result of a very pleasant surprise. Maybe she should wear clothes and put on perfume more often. To add to his “pleasantness”, she decided to kiss Dale’s thumb paw again. “Hi there, Cute Stuff,” she continued, in her ultimate seductive tone. “I’ve decided to have both of us forget all the problems we’ve had and just think of—ourselves—for tonight.” The tamias staggered back to the door, ready to open it and bolt out of the tree—
Too late, his wife whirled him around and locked the door again. He wouldn’t have any problems unlocking it, but the problem would be how to unlock it and run out of there without getting suspicious. He was starting to sweat again.
“Oh, no, Cutie!” said the pipistrell. “Tonight, I’m going to make *sure* you don’t want to open that door again!” His audible gulp made her raise an eyebrow and nearly lower her ears herself. “And—and—I’ve—I’ve got it all planned for us!” She almost lost her concentration there. “First, we’ll start with a nice formal dinner!” Foxglove extended her wings, pointing behind him. Dale turned around.
And he finally saw the trap.
A table had been set up in front of the bed. It was semicircular and covered with a white tablecloth. Instead of having two chairs on opposite sides, it had a lover’s chair on the flat side of the table. On it, all the food was prepared and ready to be eaten. The moonlight shining through the window revealed a champagne bottle (originally a key chain ornament) immersed in a cup of ice, one large serving of toasted assorted nuts marinated in white chocolate, and one large serving of broiled luna moths with a side of mealworms. On the edge of the table was a single candle (originally a birthday candle), unlit.
“Courtesy of ‘Monterey’ Jack Colby,” she explained. “I wanted to get a professional caterer, but I didn’t want to offend Monty, not after what happened last week.” Her ears and tail drooped for a moment, “I—I wanted for him to get his confidence back. He was a bit reluctant in preparing this for us, but I assured him that we still trusted him and that what had happened before wasn’t his fault at all,” her features perked up again, “and believe me, he was more than happy to do this! And,” grabbing his arm, she dragged him to the seat, making his claws rake the floor. “It’s *our* turn to be happy,” she whispered as she sat him down, hard. At that moment, the rodent was overtaken by the scent of white chocolate. Not noticing his eyes beginning to glaze, the chiropterid padded to the drawer and took a box of matches. As she padded back to the table, she suddenly realised something.
“Dale, could you please light the candle? I don’t think I can hold the match with my wing.” The sciurid’s inner conflict and inexplicable fright was enough to snap him out of his chocolate attack when he heard the monster’s voice—
“Huh? What?” He looked at the monster who appeared to be ready to set the world ablaze—
“Light the candle, please?” repeated the verspetilionid.
“Oh—oh, sure—sure thing, Foxy,” he stuttered, sweating more and more. As he stood up, he slammed his knee on the bottom of the table, shaking all the food and nearly causing the champagne to fall over. Immediately, he fumbled the items around, trying to keep everything steady but it appeared that he was just making everything more and more unstable. That was more planned than accidental, but Foxglove didn’t need to know that. When he made sure nothing would fall off the table, he carefully stood and padded toward his wife—
And smashed his toe on the table leg.
This time, the champagne did fall off, but because it was a plastic bottle, it didn’t shatter. The ice did spill on the floor, however. Ears fell again as pained chattering filled the room.
“Dale!” exclaimed the bat lady, rushing to meet him.
“I’m—I’m okay!!” he chattered, hopping lightly on his right foot-paw. “I’m—I’m just—clumsy or somethin’—”
“N—no, you’re not,” she countered. A sudden fear that everything would go wrong brought sweating and stuttering on her part. “I—I shouldn’t have turned out the lights yet! I’m sorry, Dale!” she cried, as she gave him the matches. “Um—just—just light the candle, and I’ll clean up. This—this is just a minor set back. But—it’s nothing to worry about. Nothing.” She stood still and took a deep breath, slowly calming herself down, and raising her ears again. “There. Everything’s okay now. Nothing’s wrong.” She echosounded at his foot-paw, turned to his face again, and cooed unsteadily in his ear, “No—no major damage there. I’ll—massage your toe after dinner, and I’m looking forward to it! Perhaps—in the tub, maybe?” Her seductiveness was running smoothly again . “You know, maybe we should ask Gadget to make the tub bigger, or have her convert it to a Jacuzzi?” she asked provocatively, as she padded over to pick up the bottle and the ice cup. The chipmunk bristled at this, and his ears remained flat and his tail still. He had to do something to stop this, but what?
The female bent down and swept as much ice as she could back into the cup. As she did that, she heard her male open the matchbox and take out a match. She heard the rough swipe and the fizzling as it came to life. The scent of sulphur reached her nostrils, making her wrinkle her nose, but the air would clear itself in a moment. The room brightened for a moment, but she really didn’t need the light as she continued to echosound the floor as she searched for stray bits of ice. She then heard Dale pad up to the table and light the candle. Ah, just a few more pieces of ice, and the romantic dinner would continue.
She heard something topple.
And slowly the room got brighter and brighter.
And then sulphur wasn’t the only thing she was smelling.
She straightened up.
“Dale?”
“Oh no!”
The pipistrell whirled around, bristled, and gasped, with her ears falling back again.
Her husband was staring with fright at the burning table. Suddenly, he tried to set the candlestick upright again, but the way he kept jerking his paw toward it, he was actually making it roll around the tabletop and spread the fire instead.
“Oh, dear, don’t worry, Foxy! I’ll put it out in a moment!” he chattered. The tamias continued to poke at the candlestick, and with one push, it fell off. Now on the floor, the flame caught the bottom of the tablecloth and the fire began to expand. “Oh, oh dear!” Smoke was filling the room now, and the fire was getting brighter and brighter.
“DALE!!” She was actually frozen with fright; watching and hearing her hopes literally go up in smoke. Panicking a-la Humphrey Bear, Dale just slapped at the flames, fanning them more than quenching them. As the flames rose higher, he suddenly reached toward the bed, grabbed the blanket, and began beating the fire with it, throwing all the food around. This helped a trifle, but the fire was still quite active. It wasn’t until he heard Foxglove coughing when he decided enough was enough. He ran to her, snatched the ice cup from her, and threw the ice at the tabletop. The fire fizzled to a cinder, but not without spilling what remained of the food over the top. The water and ice also put out the fire that had started on the floor.
And the room was in near-darkness once more.
Both looked/echosounded at the smouldering table. After a moment, the rodent turned to her and stuttered,
“Fox—Foxy—I’m—s—sorry—so—sorry—” Coughing, he ran to open wide all the windows while the chiropterid checked the mess to see if anything could be salvaged.
Nope, all the food had been ruined, except the champagne, but it was doubtful she would be able to get him drunk now. She picked up the charred tablecloth, and tried to wipe up all the cold water. The chipmunk coughed for a moment, and slowly padded up to her, “Foxy—the room’s gonna stink for a bit—why—why don’t you sleep in Gadget’s room tonight? I’m—I’m sure she won’t mind—I’ll—I’ll sleep on the couch—again—I—I guess I deserve it—” He was about to hold her shoulders, but seeing her eyes flash in the moonlight, he backed off again. “I’m—such a klutz—I—I—I’d better open the bathroom window too.” The bat lady coughed and wondered why Dale didn’t bother to sleep in Chip’s room when she was going to sleep in Gadget’s. What she didn’t know was that Dale wanted to avoid a confrontation with his best friend, who would very likely demand an explanation of this incident. He would have one, but he just needed all night to come up with something coherent. She was left holding the bottle and smouldering tablecloth while her husband ran to the bathroom. She wanted to cry, but anger and frustration were building up insider her besides angst and disappointment. So much was building up that she actually cursed this time:
*Darn, that didn’t work.*
But she wasn’t defeated yet. What was that other idea she had?