SIEBEN - THE DODGING GAME: THAT’S RIGHT, THROW THE BLAME ON SOMEONE ELSE
From: nanananananananana_batgirl@mobileaccess.com.us
To: mountofoaks@mobileaccess.com.us
Dear Mom & Dad,
Help! I’m getting desperate here! Everything seems to be going wrong. I mean, Dale really tries, but it seems as if he’s always either too busy or too tired for me. I know that since we’re Rescue Rangers we’re going to have times like this, and I know he needs to rest in order to keep up, but I’m practically taking two cold showers a day now! Do you think that this could be because of our different species? I know Dale wants to as much as I do, but every time we try, it seems that something goes wrong and he blames himself and it spoils the entire night. Dale is very loving and he always wants what’s best for the others and me, but when something goes wrong he *really* brings it down on himself, as if he’s trying to carry everyone’s burden! Please, is this as species thing, or is something wrong with Dale?
Love,
Foxglove
From: mountofoaks@mobileaccess.com.us
To: nanananananananana_batgirl@mobileaccess.com.us
Dear Dale & Foxy,
We’re writing a letter to you both because we think it’s time for both of you to start working together. We understand if your work leaves little time for the both of you, and if it does, then that’s something you simply have to live with. That doesn’t mean that you can just totally ignore each other, mind you. A relationship needs to be taken care of, like a garden. A garden won’t say beautiful all by itself. It requires careful work and planning. You two need to set apart time for one another, time that would be “off-limits” to the other Rangers, except in an emergency, like the one you had recently with that collapsed building. Dale, it’s very sweet that you are taking responsibility for your actions, but remember, you all are a *team*. All of you share responsibilities; so don’t try to pile them all up on yourself.
Young man, I didn’t raise no wimp. I know that you can do more than enough to keep Foxy satisfied. I know there’s the species difference, but you shouldn’t let that be an obstacle. If anything, it should be a challenge, and a *fun* challenge at that! I don’t know if maybe you feel overwhelmed by what you need to do, but no son of mine backs down from a challenge, and much less one that involves his natural abilities! Son, you overcame three huge obstacles last May: Fat Cat, our curse, and yourself. You are stronger than what you let on. So I *know* you’re strong enough AND well enough AND able enough to keep up with Foxglove. Let yourself go, son! It’s all perfectly legal AND moral, remember? Foxy, if he’s playing hard-to-get, then you have our permission to drag him to the bedroom if you need to.
Write back and let us know how you’re going.
Love,
Pierre & Dalee.
P.S.:
Foxy, Dale goes crazy with chocolate, but put him in a hot Jacuzzi and you’ll have to drag him out! We took him to Yellowstone’s Hot Springs when he was a cub, and that boy wished he could turn into a fish and stay there all day long!
Her husband would be finished with another workout session soon. He was having so many that now he was exercising with one of his Hawaiian shirts while his workout suit was being washed. Of course, Foxglove’s workout was over long before his, because she needed time to plan again, and this time with Gadget’s help. She explained to her what had happened with the botched dinner, and the other idea Dale’s parents had given her. Gadget, who now had an actual relationship herself, but not at that level yet, saw what needed to be done. So, she was more than willing to help Foxglove with her plan, and it also gave her a chance to try out more new items.
Dale, meanwhile, didn’t know what he was going to do, now that his parents [grinding his incisors] *lovingly* decided to help them in their relationship. Why did they have to mention the Yellowstone incident? And if that wasn’t bad enough, he wasn’t sure if Chip really believed the explanation that he gave him for the “accident”. But then again, it was Chip who had pushed him into the role of a Klutz, Clown, and Comedian. What had happened that night, he explained, was an accident waiting to happen. He *was* after all, sore from his workout and it was just a trifle hard to move around, and even harder to move *carefully*, *in a nearly dark room*, and even more with a new obstacle such as the table. All that, and his reputation of bringing havoc whenever fragile items were involved, was what caused the disaster.
All of that sounded quite logical to Chip, except the Klutz part. Everyone had seen Dale’s “clumsiness” diminish from the moment he fell in love with Foxglove, and it took an even sharper downturn after the kidnapping and the wedding. As for the other factors, he was quite sure that all of them combined did indeed raise the hazard factor, but the way Dale insisted on it being a result of his clumsiness was what made Chip start getting suspicious. Or maybe it *was* a result of that. Dale really did seem guilty, and he *did* blame *himself* for the incident, and he also insisted on cleaning up the mess himself. The look on Foxglove’s face the following morning triggered a gut feeling, however. And Chip wasn’t sure what to do about this situation in particular. Since he wasn’t married—yet—he couldn’t even suggest offering advice. He knew Dale’s parents were already giving them advice, and they could also ask *his* parents, and even Monterey’s parents to see what they could suggest, but he wondered if they would be able to actually help. Dale and Foxglove *were* a mixed-species couple. And in a sense, so was Gadget and he, but they weren’t married yet. If anything, *they* should be *going* to Dale and Foxglove for advice. Were there any marriage counsellors who were *also* a mixed-species couple?
He wondered if this was what he was going to have to face if he married Gadget.
The two females, meanwhile, were finished with the new trap.
Dale wasn’t finished with his workout yet, so he jumped off the turntable, turned it off, and prepared to do some stretching. It was then that his wife entered the gym, padded over to him, bent down, and picked him up over her shoulder. She did this so smoothly and nonchalantly and without even a grunt on her part, that Dale didn’t know what was happening until she was halfway out of the gym.
“Huh? What? Foxy? What—what are you doin’?”
“I’m kidnapping you, what does it look like I’m doing?” she replied with ultimate calmness. Panic took hold of the chipmunk again, and his features. The monster was now abducting him!
“K-kidnappin’?” he squirmed, “Foxy, what are you talkin’ about? Put me down!” He also didn’t like being in a position where his tail was up in the air for all to see, and for Foxglove to hear.
“Not until we get to the bathroom, Cute Stuff,” said the bat lady with a business tone and with straight ears, though her tail was a blur again.
“Foxy, my tail is up in the air!” chattered the tamias, now slightly angered.
“I know. And me without a camera!” giggled the pipistrell.
“Foxy!” he panicked even more. “I need to finish my routine!”
“Not tonight, Cutie. You can finish up tomorrow. Right now, we’re going to have a workout of our own!” Dale had to get out of there, now that it seemed that Foxglove took seriously his parents’ permission. He wasn’t being dragged, of course, since his claws would prevent that, and it would be difficult for his wife to fly him to the bedroom with the little space they had inside the tree, so this method of transport was obviously her best option.
“Foxy, I can walk, thank you very much!” he chattered again, now starting to get indignant. He was thankful the other Rangers weren’t around to see him like this.
“Oh, I know you can, Cutie, but you won’t need to walk where you’re going. I have to make sure you don’t waste any more energy than necessary.” The verspetilionid tightened her grip on him as she continued padding down the hall.
“Why? Are you goin’ to spoon-feed me my lunch, too?” The sciurid wasn’t about to let her treat him like a cub, no matter what his parents suggested.
“Don’t give me more ideas,” she growled provocatively, as she entered the bedroom and locked the door. The rodent wanted to escape, but if he struggled any more than he was already, his phobia would be discovered. The chiropterid carried him through the bedroom and into the bathroom, and locked the door there as well. Finally, he put him down—
And Dale saw *another* trap.
The tub, originally a plastic water trough for dogs, had been replaced by an even larger trough, and it was much deeper, too. It was on ceramic stilts, placing it right on top of an electric hot plate, which was placed on a small platform above the floor, which was connected to a waterproof switch next to the mirror on the wall. Beside the trough, a small aquarium pump had an air tube attached to it, which led to a small mat on the bottom of the trough. The edge and bottom of the trough were much wider than the plate, and the bottom was lined with a short plastic flap that was lower than the actual bottom of the “tub”, an under-rim, so that any water spilling over would fall beside it and not on it.
“What’s this?” he asked suspiciously, as it looked suspiciously like something he suspiciously remembered. She happily clasped her wings in front of her and jumped slightly,
“It’s Gadget’s invention. Well, more than invention, it’s a set up. You now finally have that Jacuzzi you always wanted!”
“I’ve always wanted one?” he asked quizzically, turning to her and raising one ear and eyebrow. He didn’t remember mentioning that to her. She smiled at him,
“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t want this! You read what your parents said about you!” Suddenly he realised where the idea came from. His ear and eyebrow fell again.
“Y—yeah, but that was a long time ago! I learned to live without hot tubs simply because we really didn’t need one and there was no way we could have one set up back in the forest!” He waved a paw at it and exclaimed, “There was no need to do this—!” The verspetilionid put her wings on his shoulders,
“That’s why it’s called a ‘gift’, Cutie. Now—” She suddenly pointed her wings at him as if they were revolvers and she hollered, “Reach fer th’ skaye, yew varmint!” And she said it with such intensity (thanks to all the westerns she saw with Dale), that the sciurid actually bristled with fright, shot his paws up in the air, and stiffened his ears and tail more than ever, scared for his life because the monster was about to shoot him—
In a flash, the chiropterid peeled off his shirt, giggling naughtily,
“Luceeeeeeeeeelle!!!”
And for the first time, the rodent actually felt naked in front of this monster. He fought another reflex reaction to cover himself, or at least hug himself tight, because if he did that, his wife would very likely ask him what was wrong. The bat lady then dropped his shirt, padded to the switch, and turned on the pump and the hot plate. Air bubbles began to rise from the mat through the water, and the heating coil of the hot plate turned a dull orange. Foxglove adjusted the temperature and stood back, admiring Gadget’s handiwork. Slowly, the water temperature began to rise. She turned to her husband and cooed,
“We won’t need to use the heater that much. I know that we will—heat things up on our own—hee hee hee hee!!” The chipmunk wished he were a beaver so he could chew his way through the wall and out of there. The only other exit was the window, but it was too small for him to fit through. He padded away from his wife to look more closely at the Jacuzzi, wondering how he could generate another random event that would be able to get him out of this m—
He gasped when the monster pinned his arms down again as she wrapped her wings around him from behind.
“And while the water heats up, Cutie,” she kissed his neck, making him bristle even more, “what do you say we have [kiss] some fun [kiss] out here [kiss]?” The monster was trying to bite his jugular vein and suck all the blood out of him. He had to—
*Fight* his way out?
What the Purgatory was he doing? This was *Foxglove*, his WIFE, for crying out loud! He had no real reason to reject her, and much less when they were in such a private place! His father’s words flashed into his mind again.
He was no wimp.
And he was being faced with a challenge.
A *fun* challenge, at that.
So all he had to do was turn around, face whatever obstacle was in the way, and have fun until either or both of them fell asleep from total exhaustion. He turned around and prepared to “Luceelle” her himself, and kiss her—
And he saw a monster’s face.
He yelped, squirmed free of the monster’s grasp, and stumbled away from her.
Foxglove gasped at his outburst, and her ears drooped. Was she actually scaring him? As Dale stumbled back, he bumped on the edge of the tub and fell in, getting his torso and thighs soaked, splashing things a trifle. The sudden immersion also snapped him out of his fright. He looked up, and didn’t see a monster, but his wife.
“D-Dale, what—what’s wrong?” she asked, one second away from crying, suddenly wondering if this was going to end up in yet another disaster. Oh dear, now he needed an explanation.
“I—uh—I—I think—I burned my tail on this thing,” stuttered the sciurid. The verspetilionid calmed down a trifle. But only a trifle, because her tail didn’t start moving yet.
“Huh? How did you do that? The only hot parts here are the heater and the water. Are you sure you didn’t burn your heel?” She even echosounded his heel, praying that nothing serious was there.
“Um, no—well, I burned somethin’ here,” he struggled slightly, trying to get up. “Didn’t Gadget test this thing?” Struggling to calm down, she replied,
“Well, yes, actually, she did. She told me it would work with no prob—oh dear—” The pipistrell stiffened. *Now* she knew what the problem was.
“Yeah, I know,” sighed the tamias. At least he had focused the problem away from himself now. But the verspetilionid wasn’t going to accept defeat so easily.
“Strange. She made sure that this tub was bug free! I mean, any spills are channelled away from the heater, and the pump is nearly all plastic! What could have gone wrong?” The heater was drip-shielded? Darn, he was planning on spilling water on it and causing a short circuit. This he proved by getting up rather clumsily and splashing as much water as he could without being suspicious. She would have helped him up, but they both knew her wings wouldn’t be of much help to him. The sciurid finally hopped off the tub—
And instinctively shook off all the water from himself. Reflexively, the chiropterid covered herself with her wings—
And heard something fizzle. The chipmunk saw what had made the fizzling sound and continued to shake. In a flash, he scooped some water with his left paw and threw it at the hot plate, right at the small space between it and the tub. Because she was covering herself with her wings, the bat lady didn’t see or hear what her husband was doing. She only heard a fizzling sound as the drops of water fell on the heating coil. And then, she flinched as she heard a small splash followed by an enormous spark. It was something akin to hearing a lightning bolt: loud, long, and monotonous. After the noise faded, she uncovered herself to see and hear the heating coil melt slightly, the pump melt as well, and finally all the lights flicker and go out. She also saw her husband cringing away from the tub, as if it were going to explode or something. The bathroom quickly filled with the stench of molten metal and plastic. Slowly, Dale straightened out, turned, and saw the new mess. He then put on his best disappointed take by keeping his ears flat, his tail still, slouching over, turning away from her, and speaking with defeat,
“I’ll—I’ll go open all the doors and windows again—and—and I guess I’ll help Gadget with the fuses.” He grabbed a towel and dried himself off as best he could, picked up his shirt, and put it on again. He unlocked the door, and without even bothering to turn around and look at his wife, the rodent left the bathroom.
Foxglove just looked at the mess with defeated ears, shoulders, and tail. She simply didn’t know what to think now. Was this Dale’s fault? Gadget’s fault? The RAS’s fault? Why did things keep going wrong for them? Or, maybe a combination of all three was a recipe for disaster, but then, if it was, why didn’t the wind tunnel blow up yet? Her thoughts trailed off as she heard a conversation,
“Dale, what happened to the lights? What’s that smell?”
“Um, sorry, Gadget, but—um—your Jacuzzi kinda had a little problem.”
“WHAT? How was that possible? There’s no way it could have failed! Did it short circuit and blow a fuse?”
“It—it looked like it did. But don’t blame yourself for it. Foxy—and I—will manage—I guess.”
“NO!! The RAS made *sure* we only got state-of-the-art equipment!! And I quadruple checked all the connections! The only way a short circuit could have happened is if the drain tube had leaked onto the heater, but it’s sealed with water-proof glue!!” When she heard that, the bat lady bent down to check that connection. And it was intact. “I’ll have to check the whole installation again—”
“NO! I mean—no—you don’t need to do that, Gadget. I’ll—I’ll dismantle it for you—and we’ll—we’ll just have to do with a normal tub for now.”
“No, Dale! I have to know what went wrong! How else am I supposed to improve my abilities if I don’t correct my errors? And I thought all this time I was getting better, too—”
“Gadget—Gadget—it—it wasn’t your fault—trust me.”
“It wasn’t? You mean the RAS gave us defective equipment?”
“Uhhhhh—maybe it slipped by them?”
“No, that couldn’t have happened. I examined all the materials I used!”
“Well, Gadget—it—maybe—maybe it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Not yours, and not the RAS’s, and certainly not Foxy’s. Maybe it was—it was—an abom—a nominat—an aglomer—uh—what do you call that sorta accident that happens without any real cause? Like a stroke of bad luck?”
“An anomaly? Do you think it was an anomaly?”
“Hey, anomalies happen—I guess.”
“Hey, what happened to the lights?”
“Don’t worry, Chip, I’ll change the fuses. We just had an anomaly.”
“Huh?”
“Yes, Chip. Just—an anomaly…”
“Gadget? What’s wrong…?” Foxglove tuned out the conversation, as she pondered on the avalanche of events that were depriving Dale and her from marital bliss. She leaned back on the wall, and crossed her wings in front of her, looking/echosounding at the ceiling for several minutes. Finally, she began to cry. Softly, with no sobbing, but crying nonetheless. Why was nothing going right? Why was she being—why were *they* being denied so? Was this some Divine Restraint brought upon them, due to her behaviour? Even if they *were* married? Wasn’t what she was doing perfectly legal and moral? Why couldn’t she spend just one hour—well—half an hour—all right, ten minutes, tops—of love with her husband? Why was all this happening to them, here? She looked/echosounded at the ruined hot tub. She would have broken down in sobs, but her anger and frustration were mixing dangerously with her grief and angst. Everything was piling up and avalanching on them at an alarming speed. Maybe they needed a break, a *long* break, a break from “anomalies”, from workouts, from indigestion, from *work*—
What else did Pierre and Dalee suggest?