ACHT - THE DODGING GAME: THE LAST STRAW
From: nanananananananana_batgirl@mobileaccess.com.us
To: mountofoaks@mobileaccess.com.us
Dear Dad and Mom,
AAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!! Everything’s GOING WRONG ALL OVER THE PLACE!!!! I can’t get more than five minutes alone with Dale, and when I do, it just seems as if everything he touches gets JINXED and it just blows up in our face! The Jacuzzi short-circuited. The dinner burned down. Our bedroom smells like smoke and melted plastic and metal! I’m—I’m afraid of losing my desire for Dale and I’m scared that my instincts will make me grab the next male bat I find! Please, I love Dale with all my heart and body and soul, but if I can’t get any action, I—I don’t know what I’ll do! And to top it all off, Dale came home today with SUPPRESSANT TABLETS! I am NOT about to take them, not if he’s right here next to me!
Shaking like a leaf,
Foxglove
From: mountofoaks@mobileaccess.com.us
To: nanananananananana_batgirl@mobileaccess.com.us
Dear Dale and Foxy,
We’re not sure what is happening at HQ. We were a bit worried when you decided to live in the same place where you worked, but since you didn’t have any problems up to now, we figured that couldn’t be the problem. With everything that’s been happening, we’ve been having second thoughts about that. Maybe you should take another break from work, and go on a weekend vacation. The atmosphere around HQ, and the fact that Dale’s best friend is there, along with *two* other males *and* another female, could be giving Dale jitters. He *is* after all, in a situation where he’s working *and* having his married life in the same place. Maybe that’s what’s causing the whole thing. So to get back on track, just check out for the weekend, have fun, and go back to work. We’ll even help you with reservations. Just like there are emergencies with your line of work, so there are emergencies in married life. Foxy, please, just calm down and wait for this storm to pass. It won’t last forever. We’ll make sure of that.
Dale, I understand you perfectly. I was nervous too, once. I was a newlywed myself. But the only way you can solve this problem is if you face it head on. And if things are getting really desperate for you two, then maybe the time has come to just ignore all the disasters around you and just let go right there and then, making sure you don’t have spectators, of course. Your mother and I had a few of those problems ourselves over many springs, and what we’ve learned is that when everything falls around you, just focus on the one you love. And we did that WITHOUT suppressant tablets (What on earth are you thinking, boy? Don’t even THINK Foxy’s gonna take those tablets! Sheesh, that’s like you welding lead pants on yourself!)! Do you really need a Jacuzzi? A dinner? A bed, even? Look, I know those help you get more comfortable and they add to the romantic atmosphere, but maybe you need to be more daring. If you feel things are getting boring for you, then just let go, like your feral ancestors did. I know you don’t have much privacy at HQ, so if you can’t get everyone out for one day and have a day of love for yourselves, then your mother is right. You need an emergency vacation. We’re adding a list of places you can go that are near New York City. And remember, I didn’t raise no wimp—but if you are having any problems with anything—son, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just tell us, and we’ll see how we can overcome that. If you have a problem you felt too embarrassed to tell Dr. Qandlier, then tell *us*, and we’ll see if another doctor can help you. You *can* overcome any problem. I KNOW you can.
Love,
Pierre and Dalee.
Chip and Gadget were looking at the hot plate that Dale had dismantled. The heating coil had melted, and there were black stains of soot on the ceramic where the sparks burst, and a huge area of soot where the main short had happened. Examining the tub, there were no leaks above the damaged area, just partially melted plastic because of the heat, so that couldn’t have caused the short circuit. In fact, there were no leaks whatsoever. The drain connection was also in good shape.
“A coil must have come in contact with itself,” theorised the mousemaid. “But if it did, the spark wouldn’t have been that huge, and Foxglove would have been able to hear it.” The chipmunk pondered,
“She heard splashes sparks and fizzles just before the main short circuit. Dale was shaking off, but even without the shielding, from the position he was standing in, most of the water would have hit the side of the tub, the walls, and the floor, but not all on the hot plate.”
“A few strays got through. But they couldn’t have caused the meltdown. You’d need a lot more water to land on one spot.” Chip thought for a moment, and theorised again,
“Well, if this is an anomaly, it’s a very elusive one. Maybe the stray drops landed in a peculiar pattern that set off the meltdown?”
“And focused all the energy on one spot? Not likely.” The tamias thought for a moment again, and reasoned out loud,
“Well, the only way a huge amount of water could have hit one spot would be if Dale had focused all his shaking on one spot. Still not likely.” He turned to her and asked, “Do you think the manufacturer let this product sneak through quality control?” More pondering by the mus, and then she asked,
“But if it did, why didn’t the RAS detect any defects in it? I mean, *I* didn’t find any defects.”
“Something inside the coil that got past everyone?” The Inventor lowered her ears and shook her head.
“But I tested the coil before!” The Detective thought hard for a moment. Again, the only other option was that Dale deliberately threw water at the coil. But why would he want to sabotage something that could give him fun and relaxation? And if it was an accident, how could so much water land on the coil if Dale had his arms in front of him while he was shaking off, like all chipmunks instinctively do? He looked at the love of his life and asked,
“Gadget, did you test this thing in the *same* conditions it would be used?” She turned and looked at him with surprise at what she thought was a very basic question.
“Huh? Of course I did! Fill the tub with water, turn on the pump, turn on the heater, let Foxglove dip her wings and cause some spills, the water channels away from the heater, and it works perfectly! How else could it have been tested?” He kept looking at her beautiful eyes,
“How long did that test last?”
“Ten minutes and forty-one seconds. Why?” He just loved her accuracy reflex. He would have smiled, but this needed to be resolved. Rubbing his chin, he continued,
“Strange, Foxy said they didn’t have it on for more than five—I guess I was trying to think of another situation that you didn’t——that wasn’t foreseen,” he quickly corrected himself.
“What other situation?” she wondered, raising her ears and one eyebrow in curiosity. How else could a Jacuzzi be used in a bathroom? The tamias replied,
“They had the door and windows closed. I was about to suggest that the amount of steam that would have piled up in there would have affected the coil.”
“High humidity? That could have been a problem, but as you said, the heater wasn’t on for more than five minutes, and it had a low setting. Not enough time or temperature.” The male drummed his digits on the table, pondering again. There had to be other factors. He asked the mus,
“Stray debris? Loose fur?” She shook her head,
“There would be residues. And burnt fur would have been easily smelled all the way here.” Chip padded around the table where they placed the hot plate, examining it over and over. His expression clearly showed that there were more options left other than an anomaly. Without turning to see her, he lowered his ears, stilled his tail, and said,
“Gadget, it’s moments like these that make me wish I wasn’t a detective.” She stilled her own features as she hurried over next to him and looked into his beautiful dark brown eyes.
“Why?”
“A cardinal rule in the art of detection and deductive reasoning is that ‘once all the impossible options are eliminated, the final one, no matter how improbable it is, *has* to be the correct answer’.” She straightened up a trifle,
“So now you’ve eliminated all the impossibilities. What did you come up with?” The Detective took a breath,
“I have four possible answers. One, is that it *was* an anomaly. The others—” he trailed off for a moment, lowered his head, and spoke quietly. “The others—are that either Dale deliberately sabotaged the tub, Foxglove sabotaged the tub, or they both did. But the problem with this theory is that there are no real motives for them to do so. Dale always wanted a Jacuzzi but never let on about it because he knew there were more important things to worry about, and he thought that just mentioning it would make us think he was being selfish. And he wouldn’t destroy a childhood dream. Foxglove has no motive because she helped you assemble it and was very much looking forward to using it with her husband.” Chip then took Gadget by her paw and padded to another table, where there was a human-sized hair drier. He turned it on, filling the workshop with noise. Reflexively, they lowered their ears, but only for a moment. Gadget wondered why he did this, until he turned and looked into her beautiful blue eyes, “That is, they have no motive that we know about, so there’s the possibility that they’re not telling us everything that’s going on with them.” Gadget paled at this, as her ears flattened in sudden fright. They had to talk a little louder, but they knew Foxglove would not be able to hear them.
“Chip, do you think they could be having problems?” His eyes and ears displayed his own fright.
“That’s a possibility.” Oh golly. The Inventor’s locution powers faltered for a moment,
“Do—do you think that—that we should talk to them? I mean—you talk with Dale—and I talk with Foxglove?” Chip looked away from her for a moment, and replied,
“Not yet. It’s only a possibility, but we have no real proof. The heater *could* have been defective. Or Dale, being careless, *did* cause an accident, and he’s too ashamed to admit it, like he did with the spoiled dinner.” The mousemaid’s fright slowly subsided,
“So, what do we do now?” The chipmunk crossed his arms, raised his ears, and straightened up,
“We build them another Jacuzzi, this time with the tub’s under-rim extending *lower* than the heater. The only way water will get to the coil would be if someone deliberately gets a cup of water, lays down, and throws the water up between the under-rim and the plate, or gets a hose and more or less tries the same thing.” Gadget looked quizzically at him. “For now, we will say it was an anomaly.” He turned off the blow drier, and looked at her again. “We build them a new and improved Jacuzzi—and hope for he best.”
“Chip?” Both rodents whirled to see the chiropterid at the door of the workshop. And both prayed that she didn’t hear the previous part of their conversation, or their involuntary gasp just now.
“Y-yes, Foxy?” The Acoustics Engineer timidly padded inside, slowly fidgeting her wingtips in front of her. Her features were as low as her enthusiasm.
“Chip, it—it really isn’t necessary to build us another Jacuzzi. I mean—I guess Dale felt a little awkward around it. But—for now—just—well—shelve it—and save all the equipment for what *all* the Rangers need.” The rodents’ features rose up partially due to curiosity and concern.
“Well, if that’s how you feel, Foxy,” said the mus, “we’ll do that. And Foxy—if—you need—anything else—even if it’s just—well—time to talk—we’re all here for you.” The pipistrell looked/echosounded down for a moment, sighed, and then spoke again,
“Well, there is kinda something I wanna ask you.” Both rodents tensed as the chiropterid approached them.
“W-what is it, Foxy?” asked the tamias. She looked/echosounded them with tired eyes/throat,
“Well, you know that lately it’s been kinda rough for Dale and me. I know we have a lot work to do here and we have things happen that no one can really prepare for, but lately it seems like everything’s piling up on us. I just read Pierre and Dalee’s last e-mail, and they gave us a suggestion I hope you agree with.”
“What is it?” asked the chipmunk. The bat lady hesitated a trifle, and began,
“Chip, before I say it, I just want to know if there’s really, *really* a lot of work to do here, because if there is, then we’ll put all of my—our energies into helping everyone out. With all the equipment the RAS gave us—”
“Golly, Foxglove, please don’t think that we’re keeping you here against your will! I mean, I’d like everyone to help me out here and have your input on how we could improve everything with all the new stuff we got like you did with the wind tunnel—” Gadget saw Chip’s eyes, and immediately re-directed her train of thought, “—but it’s not as if we have a deadline or anything. I mean, Monty and Zipper are right now at the dock waiting for cheese cargo, so I can re-schedule everything here if you need me to.” The male added,
“And with most animals preparing for hibernation, there aren’t that many cases this time of the year. Foxy, what is it that you need?” The verspetilionid said nothing for a while. The sciurid padded up to her and placed a paw on her shoulder, “Foxy, whatever Pierre and Dalee suggested, I’m sure we can help you with it.” She looked/echosounded at him, and finally said,
“Well, you know that—that—it’s my time of—Fall—Fall Fever—and—and—they suggested that we take a break from work and exercise—but only for a weekend.” Chip’s features perked up and he smiled,
“A weekend off? Foxy, there’s nothing wrong in asking for a weekend off! You know Gadget and I go on dates on some weekends, so you *know* I would give you a weekend off if you think you need one!” Foxglove’s countenance perked up, as did her ears, while her tail swished.
“You mean you will?” she asked ecstatically.
“Well of course I will! Anything for my ‘little sister’, remember?” he replied. The mus, too, felt intensely relieved at this, as her ears and tail showed.
“Oh, thank you, CHIP!!” Foxglove squealed as she gave him an enormous hug.
“Ugh! You’re welcome, Foxy!” he replied, grunting. He couldn’t hug her back because she had pinned his arms down. She certainly seemed grateful for his favour, because that was one of the most powerful hugs he’d ever received from her—
And she wasn’t letting go.
In fact, she was beginning to snuggle against his cheek and neck.
“Foxy?” he asked in confusion. His tail stopped quivering.
She never knew Chip smelled so nice, or that his fur was so soft, or that he sounded so interesting when she was this close, or that the scent of leather was nearly permanent on him now—
“What’s goin’ on here?” demanded Dale, entering the workshop, and stiffening his features upon seeing the events described. Foxglove broke the hug with a start and turned to look/echosound at him. Her features stiffened in fright. This was an event similar to one that happened last April, when she asked Chip to let her hug him and pretend he was Dale.
Except that this time, she didn’t ask that of him now.
And Chip knew that. And how could she *not* hear or smell him coming?
“Dale—Cute Stuff—I’m sorry—!!!” Ashamed of her uncontrollable instincts, the bat lady covered her face with her wings and dashed to their room, sobbing. Chip and Gadget, meanwhile, had their fright, and suspicion, jump back on them again, as their stiff ears and tails showed, aside from their back fur beginning to bristle.
“Dale, what’s going on?” asked Chip, stomping toward him, and struggling not to lose his temper.
“I was about you to ask the same thing,” he replied, also clenching his fists and incisors, and bristling fur to match, turning back to look at him. The Detective stopped when he saw the look on his best friend’s face.
“Dale—” he took a deep breath, trying to suppress his temper. “Dale—it’s not what you think it was. I know because you’re married now you kinda think other things were happening, but they weren’t. It’s not even like it happened last April—!!”
“He’s right, Dale,” interrupted the Inventor, “Foxglove came here to ask him a favour. She asked him to give you the weekend off so you could go somewhere for a break. He agreed, and she was just thanking him.” Dale looked at them for a moment. Then, slowly, he relaxed his features, turned away, and replied,
“Oh, um—sorry—then—”
“Dale, I know things aren’t going very smoothly for you two right now,” said Chip, standing behind his best friend. “And I know you’re going to your parents for advice, but if you want to talk about anything else, remember I’m right here.” The Comedian didn’t turn around.
“Yeah, sure. I understand. Sorry I got mad at you. And—thanks for givin’ us the weekend—I guess—” A tense silence followed, during which Gadget wondered why Dale didn’t seem very happy in spending a weekend with his wife. Or maybe he was trying to decide something,
“Dale, have you decided where you’re going?”
“Huh? What?” he turned to look at her. “Oh, um, no, not yet, but—we’ll decide tonight—I suppose. We’ll probably go to Six Flags or somethin’…” The tamias trailed off as he padded out of the workshop. Chip and Gadget saw him leave, and the events they had just witnessed were quite unsettling for them.
“Maybe he should talk to his parents, face-to-face,” he suggested. “It was a good idea to give them those human hand-held e-mail consoles, but it looks like they need face-to-face help.”
“Or we should suggest having them see a marriage counsellor?” He had pondered about that before. And now he knew it was time to stop pondering and start acting.
“They’ll need a counsellor who’s also part of a mixed-species couple. I guess we should start looking right away.”
After a few more e-mails, the couple decided to go to Six Flags at New York, and, they would stay in a nearby hotel. On Friday morning, everyone helped them pack and prepare the Ranger Wing for the trip. As they did, all the Rangers noticed that while Foxglove was more than happy and kept giving Dale suggestive glances, he seemed rather worried about something. Just before they left, Foxglove gave him what was probably the ultimate “come hither” look, and Dale, for some reason, *bolted* out of the hangar. When he came back to the hangar, he gave the following excuse,
“Bathroom,” which was quite credible, but that didn’t explain the frightened look on his face, which Chip managed to notice. His suspicions were verified when Foxglove nearly started crying right there. And when they finally climbed on the Wing, and Gadget exclaimed,
“Have a great time, you two!” Foxglove turned and replied,
“Well, I sure hope so!” while Dale just sat there and said nothing. Instead, he had a certain expression, one that reminded Chip of someone about to go to the electric chair. The Comedian blankly turned to the controls, activated the Wing, took off, and left for the hotel. Chip’s suspicions, as well as everybody else’s, did not diminish during the weekend. The only thing that diminished were the minor disasters that seemed to happen whenever Dale was around. Chip prayed dearly that they wouldn’t happen at the hotel they were staying. And during the weekend, all the Rangers decided to give them a surprise and install a new and improved Jacuzzi.
On Monday morning, things did not get any better. Dale and Foxglove burst through the door, and both were carrying a pile of souvenirs and prizes won during their weekend. More exactly, Foxglove was carrying a pile, and Dale just had the suitcases. Chip, startled a trifle, asked them,
“Well, how was your weekend?” Dale burst,
“Oh, it was AWESOME!! We rode the roller coaster TWELVE times, spun around a bazillion times in all those flyin’ chairs and spinnin’ cups, rode in the speedboats, went on a crazy Ferris Wheel, and cleaned up ALL the prizes in ALL the booths!!” The Detective noticed something was wrong. From what Foxglove had requested, that wasn’t the *only* type of fun that was intended. Dale’s face was jubilant—like a *cub’s*—
And Foxglove? She was carrying so much stuff her head was covered! But even so, she didn’t seem to be as excited as Dale was—
Or *happy*, for that matter—
Dale suddenly turned to her and said, “Honey, I’ll be in the shower. You can hand out all the prizes to the others. See you at lunch!” And the chipmunk nonchalantly padded to their room, and slammed the door behind him. Suddenly, Foxglove dropped all the prizes on the floor, startling everyone again. And they were even *more* startled when she suddenly covered her face and collapsed on the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably. The others, of course, gathered around, with low ears and still tails.
“Foxy, what’s wrong? What happened?” asked Gadget, sitting beside her, placing her paws on her shoulders. Chip, meanwhile, had his deductive reasoning going at full speed again. *Dale* wasn’t here, comforting his wife. Slowly, his anger began to rise once more, as his back fur was. Gadget, meanwhile, had managed to sit Foxglove up, but she still had her wings covering her face. The chipmunk sat beside the bat lady, took a deep breath, and plunged in,
“Foxy, did—did something wrong happen during the weekend?”
No response.
But then, slowly, the pipistrell nodded.
Oh no. No.
“But what? Did Dale—” He just couldn’t bring himself to ask the question. It was so unlikely of Dale, and yet, when placed under the right circumstances, he was willing to *kill*, but then again, he would kill to *defend* her. Could another set of circumstances have happened that might have caused him to—to—
“————*hurt* you?”
Twenty seconds passed.
And the chiropterid nodded once more. Fur bristled all around, while Zipper’s wings buzzed in anger.
Dale, a wife-beater?
No, that couldn’t be possible. He was NOT that kind of chipmunk! He was fun loving, goofy, happy, always willing to help, he loved Foxglove with all his heart—
And why would he even consider beating her—?
No.
He *was* under a *new* set of circumstances: He was *married* now. And his wife, having Fall Fever, was demanding a LOT from him. But their honeymoon was last June! And when they came back, the action didn’t cease. On many nights, Chip, and the others, had been awakened by indiscreet noises coming from the couple’s bedroom, obviously indicating that they were enjoying themselves. But lately, those sounds had become increasingly disturbing. Namely, it was Dale’s screams that woke them up, and now he was beginning to wonder if they had anything to do with marital bliss. And if they didn’t—
The botched dinner.
The ruined Jacuzzi.
They were fighting! And not just arguing, but *physically* fighting! That was the only way the tablecloth could have been set on fire, and the only way the Jacuzzi could have short-circuited! Foxglove was demanding too much from Dale, and now, he was retaliating! But before Chip could get up and beat the tar out of Dale, it seemed that it was now Monterey’s turn to infuriate,
“WHAT!! ‘E didn’t BEAT ye, did ‘e???!!!” The mouse obviously came up with his own conclusion. “Foxy, please, let’s see yore face!!” He gently placed his paws on her wings, and tried to uncover her head—
“He didn’t touch me,” sobbed the verspetilionid. Great, now she was in denial. That wouldn’t help at all. Zipper insisted,
“No, Foxy, you don’t have to hide anything from us! Dale *could* need help, but you have to let us hel—”
“He *didn’t* touch me,” she repeated, practically hissing. Slowly, she lowered her wings, revealing her tear-matted facial fur. It was messed up, but there were no bruises, cuts, scars, or slashes, and her ears were intact as well. Gadget gently pulled her wings aside and took a closer look. There were no bruises or scratches on her torso, legs, or even her membranes. But there was more than one way of hurting others. The sciurid pressed on,
“Did he say something to you? Insult you? Abuse you mentally or emotional——”
“No. Dale was his usual happy self!” she sniffled like crazy. “Hyperactive, funny——he wanted to do everything and go everywhere at once——but he didn’t touch me. As if all the Halloween motifs that were all over the place weren’t bad enough!” The tamias sat up for a moment. This did *not* add up. Dale was his usual comedic self, and he enjoyed himself at Six Flags, but why didn’t Foxglove also enjoy herself?
“But Foxy, how could Dale hurt you if he never said anything wrong or—”
“Touch.”
“—touch you? Did he say any jokes or any Halloween references that may have hurt——”
“*No*, Chip,” she emphasised, looking/echosounding at him with a face that showed pain, anger, rejection, grief, and frustration. “He *didn’t* touch me———Chip, guys———he didn’t—*touch* me——never while we were there, *never* at the hotel——Dale never *touched* me—he *hasn’t* touched me!! For nearly three weeks now—he hasn’t---*touched* me at all!!”
The Rangers looked at each other. Why would a newlywed *not* want to touch his wife?