CHARIOTS OF FUR By Matt Plotecher It was especially warm and bright outside. The sunshine graced the leaves of the large oak tree that the Rangers used as their headquarters. A gentle, refreshing breeze wafted through the sturdy branches, carrying the smell of hot pretzels from the vendors and cool water from the fountains. All about the park, children were playing happily, families were picnicking, and a general atmosphere of fun and enjoyment floated about. But the beginning of this story takes place inside, so let's move in there, shall we? Sunshine poured in through the windows, a gentle glow now, filtered by the leaves outside. The sounds of the people outside were too light to be heard through the thick tree walls, giving the whole headquarters a serene sense of silence. "How can you be such a slob, Dale!?" "You're just jealous because *I* have creative organizational skills." "Do not!" "Do too!" "Do not!" "Do too!" Well, it was as silent as it ever gets, in any case. In the kitchen, Monterey Jack tried to shut out the sounds of the contradicting chipmunks and focus on his cooking. The regional track meet of the animal world was coming up soon, and he wanted to be ready for the bake-off that was held in conjunction with it. For years, his culinary expertise had taken top honors at the meet, reaffirming his belief that everything tastes better with cheese in it. His triple layer cheesecake with almond shavings and coconut cream, topped with sliced strawberries and chocolate icing had won last year, but only by a narrow margin. He needed something special this time, something powerful. That took patience, practice, and peace. "Do not!" "Do too!" "Do not!" "Do too!" Oh well, he thought, two out of three ain't bad. A few more minutes of listening to the chipmunks in their room, however, and he decided he was wrong. He stomped out of the kitchen, grumbling as he closed in on the door to the chipmunks room. With a forceful kick, the door flew inward, slamming into the wall. Chip and Dale were actually surprised to see Monterey, especially so obviously peeved. "Er, Monty..." Chip started, trying to move behind Dale. Unfortunately for him, Dale was quicker, and safely stepped behind Chip as Monterey closed in. "As much as I enjoy the Chip and Dale daily debate," Monterey stated slowly and clearly, "I would really appreciate it if you two mates could put it on hold until I've perfected my latest dish." "Huh? Is it your turn to cook tomorrow?" Dale scratched his head. "I thought it was Gadget's." "No mate," Monterey shook his head. "I mean for the track meet comin' up next month. I need some quiet to figure out what to make for my entry. Which is difficult," his gaze became stern again, "when you two engage in your never-endin' argument about whatever trivial matter you've decided on this time." "Okay, okay, Monty, take it easy." Chip held up his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I'm sure Dale will be glad to apologize for starting this argument." "Me?" Dale snapped. "You're the one who started it!" "Did not!" "Did too!" "Did not!" "Quiet!" Monterey ended the verbal volley. He glared at them both. "Now, why don't you two go off and do somethin' outside? You can fight all you want out there, as long as you're outta my earshot." He turned and stormed back to the kitchen. Well, he grumbled in his mind, good chefs are supposed to be temperamental. Chip and Dale decided to take advantage of the good advice, and headed outdoors. Monterey opened up his cookbook and flipped through the pages. He was about to settle in and read about the varieties of a cheese fondue when a tap on the shoulder drew his attention. Zipper hovered in front of him, arms crossed and a look of disapproval clearly evident. His whole posture stated that he thought Monterey was too hard on Chip and Dale. "Oh, come on, Zipper," Monterey waved off the guilt trip. "They bicker about the same nothin' at least five times a week. I'm allowed to get a little irritated once in a while." You didn't have to berate them about it, Zipper's brows drew together. You could have just asked them to keep it down, or go outside. "Oh? And you like listenin' to that?" Rolling his eyes, Zipper sighed. No, his gaze read, but I like it even less when somemouse uses excessive guilt force. "But I...oh crikey, fine." Monterey glanced at Zipper, a bit angry that Zipper won another argument without having to say a word. "I'll go apologize, but next time *you* tell 'em to cool it." He removed his chef's hat and put his pilot's cap back on, then headed outside to find Chip and Dale. He spotted them in a secluded corner of the park, just staring glumly at the ground. Monterey sighed. Maybe I was a bit rough, he thought as he walked over. "Hey there, mates!" He called out. Chip and Dale snapped their heads up, their thoughts broken back to reality. "Oh, hi Monty," Dale said, a bit deflated. "Look, mates," Monterey quickly interjected, wanting to get this over with so he could get back to the kitchen. "Sorry about snappin' at you both. I've just been on edge over this bake-off at the track meet. It's important to me, and I guess I let the stress build up." Chip shrugged, and stood up. "It's all right, Monty. We just forget that other people live in the tree, too." "Yeah, old habits die hard." Dale brushed himself off as he climbed to his feet. "We've been doing that since...well...since as long as I can remember." Chip took a deep breath, and forced himself away from sulking. "So what is the deal with this track meet and bake-off?" he asked, wanting to change the subject. "You've never really talked about it before." "You never asked." Monterey smiled. "Seriously, every year, there's this big track meet. Animals come from all over the area to compete in it. And to please the crowds who get hungry, there's also a bake-off. Since I get all the exercise I need as a Rescue Ranger, I only participate in the bake-off." "How come you haven't told us about this before?" Dale asked, interested. "It sounds like fun." "I have, pally. You were busy readin' comic books. And Chip was busy scoutin' for new cases." Monterey lit up as an idea struck him. "Tell you what, let's take a quick stroll over there now. You boys can see what it's like. Or, at least, what it'll be like. They've only started settin' up." "It's a nice enough day," Chip nodded. "But I thought you wanted to get back to your entry?" "It can wait." Monterey started off, leading the way. "This gives me a chance to check out the competition. And to relax a little. Forcin' yourself to creativity seldom works," he mentioned as he led the way down a path, towards the center of the wooded area of the park. They rounded a few bends, until they came upon a serene clearing, shrouded from the surrounding area by a wall of greenery. No branches stretched over the clearing, however, so the clear, blue sky overhead completed the picturesque setting. The Rangers breathed in deeply, feeling invigorated. A simple dirt track was in the center of the clearing, while groups of mice erected a set of stands on both sides. At either end, small shops and long tables were being set up. Monterey noted that the Golden Measuring Cup, first prize for the bake-off, was been polished to a high shine. Chip and Dale, on the other hand, both noticed something that they considered more precious. "Gadget!" they chimed. The female inventor mouse looked over her shoulder from her clipboard, and smiled. "Hey guys!" she waved. "Gadget-luv, I didn't know you were here," Monterey said as he walked over with Chip and Dale close behind. "Sure!" she chirped. "They needed some help setting up the place, so I thought I'd pitch in, seeing as how things were pretty quiet back at HQ." Are you livin' in the same tree as me? Monterey thought. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the chipmunks and chuckled. "I've already done a lot," Gadget went on, looking down at her clipboard again. "I redesigned the stands to distribute the weight more evenly, increasing the crowd capacity by over twenty-five percent!" She grinned in triumph. "Wow..." Chip and Dale dreamily chorused. By the look in their eyes, Monterey was having trouble deciding if they were admiring Gadget's accomplishment or just Gadget. Gadget flipped another page over on her clipboard, blissfully oblivious to her surroundings. "Anyway, once the volunteers get the stands set up, I can start on some of the announcer's and judge's booths." She looked back up at them, a thought striking her. "Oh, by the way, why are you guys here?" "The boys wanted to see what the place looked like," Monterey answered. "They've never been to the meet before." "Golly, guys, are you going to compete?" Gadget asked. "Not me, luv," Monterey smiled. "I've got me bake-off. Our caseload takes care of my workouts as it is." "Yeah, it's easier to eat your accomplishments in cooking than eat your words, right Monterey?" a voice called out. "Oh no..." Monterey sighed. "Not him." "Yep." The owner of the voice stepped up to the group. "Me." It was a tall flying squirrel, with rich, dark grey fur and a sleek, bushy tail. He was wearing a smart dark blue sweat suit, and was obviously in excellent physical condition. "Who are you?" Dale asked. "His name's Rogueford," Monterey grumbled. "Politeness prevents me from repeatin' what he's usually called." Rogueford sneered. "What? Champ? Ace? Winner of every major athletic event ever?" "You're that good?" Chip asked skeptically. "As good as you are short," Rogueford snickered. Chip began to sense that this Rogueford fellow had a knack for putting the wrong foot forward. "So you're competing?" Gadget asked. "Who wants to--" Rogueford's reply was cut off as he turned and saw Gadget fully. "I mean, yes, my dear. To compete is to exist; to exist, compete." "Oh, come off it, Rogueford," Monterey sighed. "You sound as full of it as ever." "What's that? Talent? Natural ability? All-around greatness?" Rogueford struck a dramatic pose. Chip, Dale, and Monterey guessed it was for Gadget's benefit, even though she had turned and was walking back to help out some more with the stands, peacefully unaware of the proceedings behind. Rogueford, on the other hand, was more than aware of Gadget's receding behind. "Very nice," he commented with a lecherous smile. "Hey, back off, pal." Chip stepped defiantly in front of Rogueford. "Yeah, Gadget's not interested in tall, dark, handsome types like you." Dale took his place next to Chip. "Oh?" Rogueford chuckled. "As opposed to short, jaded bookends like you chipmunks? Get real, twerps." Dale ground his teeth, trying to think of snappy comeback. He was about to answer with a left hook, but Monterey grabbed a hold of his friends. "Take it easy, mates," he said sternly. "Just relax, don't let this over-inflated ball of fluff push your buttons." "Yeah, 'mates'," Rogueford mocked. "Go baking with Monty. Leave the real things in life, like physical prowess and Gadget, to real guys like me." "You think you're better than us?" Dale snapped. "Want to prove it?" Chip immediately followed. Monterey slapped his hand to his forehead. "I've already proven it," Rogueford calmly replied. "You two aren't even in the tournament." "We will be!" the chipmunks informed him in unison. Rogueford laughed at that. "You two? Hah! Whatta joke! Still, I suppose we could use some comic relief at the track meet. Go on, sign up over there." He chuckled as Chip and Dale dashed over to sign up. "I don't believe it," Monterey said, dumbfounded. "Now someone actually hates you more than me." "They must be friends of yours. They're too stupid to get real friends. Still, they'll be amusing to add to my list of conquests." Rogueford shook his head and looked around until he spotted Gadget. "Ah, speaking of future conquests..." He stepped forward, only to be halted by Monterey's firm hand. "I'm givin' you fair warnin', Rogueford." Monterey's voice was even and calm. "Gadget is like a daughter to me. So much as *touch* one hair on her head, and I'll make a hammock for m'self outta your hide." Monterey's eyes were colder than a flagpole in the Arctic. Rogueford couldn't think of a witty reply, not with Monterey staring at him like that. He forced a chuckle out and stepped out of Monterey's grasp. "Like a daughter, huh? Well, you're old enough, anyway." He laughed at his own joke, feeling more confident. "Fine, Monty, old pal. But what'll you do when she starts chasing after me?" "She won't. She's got better things to do." "I accept your challenge." Rogueford smirked. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some training to do. Be seeing you, Monty." Monterey watched him saunter off, away from Gadget. Chip and Dale walked up, talking to each other over some forms they had. "Hey, Monty," Chip called out. "What is Rogueford competing in, do you know?" "Yeah, it'll be hard to beat him if we're in the wrong event," Dale nodded. "He's in all of 'em," Monterey responded, finally turning to them. "The decathlon, to be precise." Chip and Dale looked worried for a moment. "Ten events, right?" Dale looked down at his sheet. "Oh, don't worry, Dale," Chip said, perking up. "I mean, how can Rogueford's training possibly compare to what we've gone through as Rangers?" "Plenty, Chipper," Monterey sighed. "You two have really stepped into it now." "Huh?" Chip asked. "Yeah, Monty, that's guy's just a braggart," Dale pointed out. "Remember though, mates, as the famous braggart Reggie Mantle once said, In order to brag one must have somethin' to brag about'. In Rogueford's case, as much as I hate to admit it, he really does have a lot of talent at this stuff. A natural born athlete." "Come on, Monty," Chip brushed it aside. "We keep in shape, we work out, and we've been through more dangerous scrapes than a track meet." "And you haven't devoted your life to sports, either, have you mates?" Chip and Dale quieted down. "Now, I'm not sayin' that you two don't have the talent for it, but you had better start practicin' now if you want to have the best chance for winnin'." The chipmunks nodded, and headed back over to finish filling out their forms while Monterey walked over towards the bake-off area. On his way, he passed by the training area, where Rogueford was already busying himself with a set of weights. The tall flying squirrel spotted Monty, and gave a sneering wink. Monterey resisted the sudden urge to throttle Rogueford, and merely smirked in response, muttering to himself. "I have a feelin' that the rejects from the bake-off won't be the only thing causin' upset stomachs this track meet...." That night, Chip and Dale were already in the gym, running on the record player. Monterey busied himself in the kitchen, trying some various recipes he had dug up, while Zipper watched contentedly from one of the shelves. The hammering from the workshop notified everyone as to Gadget's whereabouts. Monterey set another pan into the oven. "There. We'll see how this works as a first layer. I'm not sure which would be better as a base, though; Cheddar or Swiss?" He thought for a moment as he took his chef's hat off. Well, Zipper gestured, what about Brie? You always said that was the best type to melt in the mouth. "Yeah...good point," Monterey nodded. "But I think someone else is enterin' a Brie dish...but I'm not sure." He glanced back at the oven. "Well, that'll take a while to cook, anyway. I'll make a quick jog back to the clearin' and check out what other entrees are up. Keep an eye on the oven, will you, Zip?" Zipper nodded, and Monterey quickly slipped his cap on and left. He made a quick jog down to the clearing, reaching it after several minutes. Once there, he paused to catch his breath, resting next to one of the stands. The moon overhead was only in its crescent phase, but it shed more than enough light to see by. Several of the contestants were still in the training area, lit by a few fireflies. Others had gathered around a small campfire. Most of the athletes and volunteers slept here overnight, so they didn't have to travel back and forth every day. Monterey glanced about for a minute, then spied the bake-off area. He walked over, looking for the posting that held the list of entrees people had decided upon. After a few moments, he found it off to one of the sides, attached to the back of one of the vendor stalls. He scanned it over, and sighed as a dish listed confirmed someone had already claimed the Brie. "Oh well, just have to work with what I got," he nodded to himself. "Interesting choice of words," a familiar voice drifted from around the vendor stall. "Considering you have nothing to work with." A chorus of laughter followed. Rogueford stepped from around the stall, chewing on a piece of popcorn. His buddies, Rogueford-wanna-be's, trailed behind him. Monterey openly frowned. He didn't want to have to deal with this. The stress from deciding on a entry was bad enough. "So, Monty, what pansy pastry are you going to dish out this year?" Rogueford strode around Monty, pretending to be in deep thought. His entourage stayed by the vendor booth, grinning in anticipation. Monterey tried to force himself to be calm, but his hackles were steadily rising, and showed no signs of slowing down. "Don't know yet, Rogueford," he managed in a forced, casual tone. "Oh come on, Monty," Rogueford chided. "How about the Cheddar-belly?" He pointed at Monterey's ample stomach. The others by the vendor stall laughed loudly at this. Monterey doubted half the thick-skulled mammals even understood the joke, much less found it actually humorous. But Rogueford was their idol. So they laughed. Even knowing this didn't help, though, as Monterey started entertaining visions of dangling Rogueford over Cat Alley by a rope. "Or maybe the Creampuff?" the flying squirrel smirked. "You are what you eat, you know." A frayed rope. "Maybe some Baked Australian? Or I should say, Bloated' Australian?" A frayed rope on fire. "Listen, Rogueford, you know that I know everythin' about athletics there is to know," Monterey replied, irritated. "You should be more concerned with Chip and Dale. They're the blokes who are gonna trample all over that precious ego of yours, you know, when they win the competition!" Monterey snapped the last part out more factual than he wanted to. "Sure, Monty, whatever. They're losers. They hang out with you, remember?" "Exactly, you pompous piece of puff," Monterey tossed restraint to the wind. "They'll not only both beat you, but beat you so bad that you'll look like a slug by comparison. You've already got the brain power of one, anyway." This method was much better for relieving stress. On the other hand, it seemed to be doing bad things for Rogueford's stress management. "Oh yeah?" his witty retort didn't seem that witty. Still, his groupies took a defiant stance behind him. "You're getting senile in your old age, Monty." "Hardly. I still talk to you, don't I?" "That's besides the point!" Rogueford was never one to relinquish control, whether the contest was physical or mental. "You're so sure that they'll win, why not make a bet?" And he added before Monterey regained his senses, "Unless you're bluffing again?" "Not a chance!" Monterey swallowed the bait. "Me mates will win, and when they do, you go up on the awards platform to them, apologize to them and me, and then publicly state for the gathered crowd that they're your superiors." Rogueford snorted, but nodded. "Fine. I'll be on the awards platform all right, but it's because I'll be receiving the grand prize from you, who'll be on your knees, showing proper respect, right next to those two chipmunks. Then, I'll spare you from any public announcements, because I'll be heading off with my date, Gadget." Again, he added before Monterey could think it over, "Unless you back out now and admit you've been wrong this whole time." "Not a chance!" Monterey grasped Rogueford's extended hand, and shook it, sealing the bet. "And remember, Rogueford," Monterey nodded to the wanna-be's behind them, "they all saw you mark this bet. So no whining when it comes time to pay." "I'd say you're the one who has to make good on his word. Why don't you go tell Gadget now that I'd like her to wear a dress for our date?" "Because you're not going to win. Pure and simple." "Yeah, right," Rogueford sneered. "Get a real life. Better yet," he said as he turned and headed back to the campfire, "get a real chin." That image of Rogueford falling into Cat Alley was looking more like an actual future event every minute. But once Rogueford and his cronies had left, and Monterey had time to cool off, the full gravity of his actions settled in. He swallowed nervously, and headed back to the tree. But not quickly. You *what*?!?! Zipper's jaw dropped to the floor. And since he was sitting on the top on the refrigerator, it was quite a feat. "Well..." Monterey stalled for time, trying to think of a better excuse than having to admit he had lost his temper. Well nothing! Zipper's glance shot back. I can understand you placing yourself in a bet, but Chip and Dale? And I *still* can't believe you included Gadget! And neither will she! Monterey tried to appeared absorbed in his cooking. Zipper, who had known Monterey for several years, wasn't fooled. You've been stirring that batter for over an hour, Monty, Zipper's dry look stated. I'm pretty sure it's mixed well enough. "Well..." Monterey found himself saying that word a lot. "It-it needs to be properly prepared, Zipper. One small lump will ruin the whole dish." Personally, Monty, I'd be more concerned with the lumps the others will dish *out* when they discover that you've offered them as prizes, Zipper crossed his arms. Because believe me, they won't be small, and there'll be a lot more than *one*. "Crikey, Zipper, show a little faith, will you?" Monterey set down the batter, moving over to plop down at the kitchen table. I am, Zipper buzzed as he flew over and settled down across from his friend. I have great faith in your ability to get yourself into these messes. He grinned. "Oh, reeeeal funny, mate," Monterey sighed. "Come on, Chip and Dale are in great shape. They can beat this Rogueford creep." Oh, they probably could, if they wanted to, Zipper nodded. But I think that they'll start to care less about this as time goes on. "How so?" Chip will be diverted by looking for new cases, and Dale, well...Zipper smiled. Dale can be diverted by anything. Monterey nodded glumly. "Okay, I'll grant you that." He was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then an idea struck him, and his face brightened. "But not to worry, Zipper ol' pal. I know *exactly* what to do..." He got up and left the kitchen, a spring in his step. Zipper watched him leave, then chuckled to himself. Well, the fly thought, at least things won't be dull around here. A light breeze gently wafted through the open window into Chip and Dale's bedroom. It was accompanied by the early morning sunshine, each ray delicately sliding across the floor, warming the room. Both Chip and Dale were in a sound sleep, enjoying their rest from the workout they gave themselves last night. Their breathing was even and steady, a perfect match for the tranquility surrounding them. That is, with the possible exception of the huge ram's horn in the doorway, being blown with full force by Monterey. The sound emitted was somewhere between fingernails on sheet metal and the mating call of an African wart hog. Chip and Dale were jolted from their peaceful slumber, crashing to the floor in a heap. "Oh man," Dale groaned. "I'm having bad flashbacks to when were all in the moderation kick." He tried to stop his eyes from working independently of each other. Eventually they focused on a figure in the doorway. "Monty?" "Rise and shine, mates!" Monterey's voice intoned it wasn't an option. "What's going on? What'd you do that for?" Chip advanced on Monterey. He had been in the middle of a very interesting dream... "You blokes have been slackin', that's what's been going on." Monterey stood up straight and proud. "You are going to represent the Rescue Rangers in that track meet, and I'm gonna make sure that you blighters are in top form! Now, line up! Suck in that gut! Throw those shoulders back!" Chip and Dale were dumbfounded. They recognized that type of voice from the teacher in gym class. "Oh no...you don't mean--" Chip started. "I'm gonna coach you guys!" Monterey finished with a grin. "Chip, tell me I'm still dreaming," Dale pleaded. "No more naps!" Monterey snapped. "And you're gonna have your diet carefully monitored. And no distractions from trainin', either. Got it?" "Uh, don't we get a choice in this?" Dale asked. "Of course not, mate." Monterey shook his head. "That's what having a coach is all about. We make all of the decisions." "Yeah," Chip remarked, "The bad ones." "Twenty push-ups for that crack!" "What?!" "Sorry, Chipper, but the first thing that's gotta be established is that I'm in charge of the trainin', so treat me with respect. Now move it." Chip grumbled under his breath, but did as he was told. It galled him to no end, but he agreed that if they were going to do this, it should be done right. Besides, he'd get his revenge after the track meet. Dale grinned at Chip as the push-ups began. "Not so cozy when you're not the leader anymore, huh Chip?" He laughed. "Twenty push-ups for that, mate!" "What?!" Dale's jaw dropped. "Sorry, bucko, but you need to remember that you're teammates. That means you support and respect each other, not make cracks like that and laugh at them. Drop and start 'em, I don't want to start our first day of trainin' late." Dale fumed, but did as instructed. He figured he'd get his revenge later. After the track meet. After both chipmunks had completed their push-ups, Monterey marched them down the hall to the gym. "Now every day, all the way to the meet, you two will be in here pre-tootin'-cisely at six a.m. sharp. Now since you two held us up with those push-ups, we'll be starting late. So to make up for lost time, we'll just skip lunch." "Monty," Chip said as they got their training suits on. "I'm willing to go through with this, but to a point. I am *not* going to ignore potential cases." "Of course not, Chip." Monterey took out a clipboard, stopwatch, and pen. "The trainin' will take up the mornin' and afternoons, but you'll still have your evenings free. Mind you, the diet regulations still apply." He turned to Dale. "So no snackin' 'til this meet is over." "Swell." Dale frowned. "Now, let's get down to brass tacks." Monterey checked over his clipboard. "First is the warm-up exercises. Start with ten laps around the gym. Then we'll go into the sit-ups, push-ups, pull-ups, and weights. Then, we can start the trainin' session." "It's going to be a long day," Chip sighed as he and Dale started their laps. The days that followed were full of the same. Chip and Dale spent every morning and afternoon in the gym, under the watchful eye (and, to the chipmunks, oppressive thumb) of Monterey. As he promised, though, they had their evenings off. Not that it mattered, much. Chip and Dale were too worn out to do much besides eat dinner and rest. They usually hit the sack early, knowing full well the danger of oversleeping when your coach lived in the same tree. Gadget was gone most of the day, continuing to help set up the stands, booths and anything else she could think of. Zipper scouted around at the police station for possible cases, but nothing looked promising. The police had most of the cases under control, and those they didn't were being transferred to another department. Still, he kept an open eye on the lookout. Monterey used the time at night to work on his entry for the track meet. He had been letting it slide as of late, concentrating most of his efforts on getting Chip and Dale ready. Even then, though, he was distracted from his work as he tried to figure out a way to tell Chip, Dale, and Gadget about the bet he had made. Just tell them and get it over with, Zipper motioned as he chewed on a cherry. "I thought about it..." Monterey replied, looking out the window to the night sky. "But they'd probably balk at the idea. And to be honest, I wouldn't force them." So then it's over, Zipper nodded. "More than that, Zipper." Monterey sighed, going back to his cooking. "Then I've broken my word, and that's somethin' I never do." Maybe the others will be willing to go along with it if you explain it that way, Zipper's inclined head suggested. They'll be ticked, mind you, but they might be willing. "Ah, but you're forgettin' Zipper," Monterey grinned as he tested the batter for the third layer of his entry. "As long as Chip and Dale win, I don't have to explain anything. And think how tickled they'll be when they find out I set up Rogueford like that." Zipper shook his head. Monty, I think you're letting this thing carry you away... "Ha!" Monterey laughed. "Oh come on, Zip, you know me. Things'll turn out just fine." He cheerfully went on with his cooking, humming a tune and daydreaming about Rogueford on his knees. Zipper, meanwhile, shrugged and finished off his cherry. True, he knew Monterey. So, there was nothing Zipper could do to change Monterey's mind. His friend would have to come to grips with his situation soon enough. Chip wiped the sweat from his brow, tossing the towel over his shoulder. He headed off to the bathroom for a shower, only to find that Dale had beaten him to it. Dale was washing his face repeatedly, and looking at himself in the mirror. Chip noticed that Dale had an abnormally serious look on his face. "Picture if you will, a chipmunk in torment..." Dale's voice was low and ominous as he looked into the mirror, much like an announcer for a suspenseful weekly television show. He spotted Chip in the mirror, and sighed. "Tell me, Chip..." he started. "Yes..." Chip answered carefully, stepping up to his friend. "Why are we doing this again?" Dale stood up and dried off his face. Chip sighed and nodded in agreement. "I was wondering the same thing myself, Dale." "I mean, I think it'd be fun to compete, but this training is making me have second thoughts." "Not to mention I doubt Rogueford would make the meet that much fun." Dale chuckled and nodded. Not too long ago, he would have gritted his teeth at the mention of the flying squirrel, but lately he just didn't seem to think he was that important anymore. "Yeah, I doubt this will be fun at all." He sighed and leaned against the wall as Chip leaned over the sink. "You know, Chip..." "What?" Chip managed between splashes as he washed his face. "I don't really think we made a smart decision by signing up." "Well..." Chip stood up and dried off his face. "I think you're right, Dale. We're not professional athletes." "So why, again, did we sign up?" Chip gave a small laugh. "Why do we do *anything* like that, Dale? Isn't it obvious? We were jealous again." "Jealous? I was feeling more upset, myself." "Yes, but it was because of the way Rogueford was regarding Gadget. Talking about taking her, and that she'd never be interested in us." "Oh yeah," Dale nodded. "Just like when we met Sparky." "Exactly. We got jealous, and let our pride take over." He chuckled again. "I bet Gadget doesn't even know about Rogueford's existence. She's really not interested in sports, like he hopes." Dale grinned. "Yeah." He thought for a moment. "I don't know about you, Chip, but I don't feel like competing anymore." Chip nodded. "No reason to. Zipper's been checking the police station, but if I'm there to help, we'll probably find something. Who knows how many juicy cases I've missed because of my pride?" "Or how many television shows and comic books I've yet to experience?" Dale nodded with a smile. "Well, I might not agree with the importance of *that*, but I think we're actually agreeing on something, Dale." Chip reached out his hand to his best friend. "Yeah," Dale smiled as he shook his best friend's hand firmly. "Good thing nobody was around to see it. It'd ruin our reputation." He gave Chip a wink. "Well, we'd better tell Monty." Chip looked out down the hallway. "Yeah, why don't you go tell him," Dale nodded and escorted Chip out of the bathroom. "You'd probably enjoy it more than me. And say it more tactfully, too." "Yeah, good idea Dale." Chip started away from the bathroom, then stopped as he remembered why he had gone to the bathroom in the first place. He turned around as Dale slammed the door shut, grinning. "Besides," Dale called through the door, "this way I can take my shower before you." Chip could only regard the trickery Dale had used with a ironic smile. "I don't give you enough credit," he mumbled, and went off to see if Monterey was around. He was unsuccessful, mainly because Monterey had ran off the store to grab some more ingredients. Dale finished with his shower, and Chip also got his done before Monterey returned, brimming with energy for his cooking. Chip and Dale would have liked to had that energy, but after working out all day, they could feel the twinges of sleep creeping in. Still they had enough to tell Monterey about their decision as he unpacked the ingredients. "What?!" Monterey yelped in response. "Whoa, careful, Monty." Chip motioned to the bread he was holding. "You're crushing the bread." "Huh? Oh, drat!" Monterey grumbled, and set the squashed loaf down. He placed both his hands flat on the counter and took a deep breath. "Now, you two say that you're quittin'?" "Not quitting, Monty. Withdrawing," Chip replied, smiling. Dale nodded. "Yeah. We both realized that we overreacted, and well, we'd rather fess up to that than continue to put ourselves through the wringer like this." "Especially since Gadget doesn't care one way or another about who wins," Chip added. Monterey managed a weak smile. "Tha-that's great, buckos." He tried to keep his voice from cracking too much. At least Zipper wasn't around to hear this. "So...so...you're just gonna go tell Rogueford about it?" Maybe they'd feel too prideful to admit it to Rogueford. "Yeah," Chip sighed. "It's going hurt to have swallow our pride like that, but it'll be worth it." Maybe not, Monterey thought miserably. He turned away and tried to look busy with some utensils, so the chipmunks couldn't see his eyes bulging with worry. If they quit, then Rogueford would win! Well, no, not really. If Chip and Dale quit, then the bet would be invalid, since they wouldn't be competing, and therefore never had the chance to win. But that's not important! Monterey thought. I'll never live it down. Rogueford will remind me about it every chance he gets...like I don't have enough trouble tolerating him as it is. Of course, the lads will probably be upset if they find out what the bet was. I've got to keep them in the competition, and rile them up enough so they'll be enthusiastic about it. His mind raced furiously, trying to find something to hook Chip and Dale back to the track meet trailer. Then, he remembered something Chip had mentioned. It was a long shot, but desperate times call for desperate measures. "Well," Monterey smiled, turning back to Chip and Dale, "that's a definite improvement, and long overdue, if you ask me." He leaned forward and mock-scolded them. "Haven't I warned you about overreactin' like that?" "Yeah," Dale sheepishly grinned. "But hey, we're learning." "Too right." Monterey nodded as he continued his unpacking. "Shame though, in a way." "What, that we won't have the chance to beat Rogueford? Put him in his place?" Chip asked. "Nope," Monterey shook his head. "The fact that neither of you will be gettin' that kiss from Gadget." He timely turned back to his cookware, seemingly uncaring. "WHAT?!" The simultaneous response from Chip and Dale showed that they obviously *did* care. That proved that Monterey's plan had worked. "Sure," Monterey continued in a casual tone. "Gadget's gonna give a big 'ol honkin' kiss to the winner of the meet. Right on the lips." As he turned back to grab some more cheese (and check the chipmunks reaction) he noted with satisfaction at dreamy look in their eyes, as each imagined being the recipient of that prize. They were hooked. Now to reel them in. "Yep," Monterey went on, "too bad you guys won't get the chance for that. Looks like Rogueford will capture that as well as first prize." "WHAT?!" The echo came. "Sure, since you two aren't going to compete, Rogueford will win hands down. And that means he'll be up there on that podium, and Gadget will walk over to him, take him in her arms, and--" "Where's my workout suit?! Turn the lights on in the gym!" Chip and Dale called out instructions as they dashed back to their training. "But lads," Monterey called after them, "You've already had your trainin' for today." "So we'll start early for tomorrow," the reply came down the hallway. "We just won't sleep tonight. We can do that *after* the track meet." Monterey was so pleased with himself that he started practicing his condoning speech that he would give to Rogueford when Chip and Dale had won. He was even so glad that his plan had worked, that he shared it with Zipper when the fly wandered back in from the police station. Zipper, however, did not seem to share Monterey's enthusiasm. You told them WHAT?! Zipper practically screamed with his wide eyes. "What?" Monterey, actually confused, asked. "Somethin' wrong?" Something wrong? Zipper echoed with a blink of disbelief. Monty, did it ever occur to you that maybe you should have asked Gadget about this beforehand? "Well, maybe, but I doubt she'd agree to it." Oh, but she'll agree to you volunteering her? Zipper's gesture accused. "Well..." Monterey stumbled a bit in his line of thinking. "Look, it was only to get them to stay in the track meet. They won't rest until they make sure Rogueford loses, and therefore won't receive the kiss." And then *they'll* expect the kiss, Monty. Zipper sighed and shook his head. Then what are you going to do? Tell Gadget that she *has* to go through with it? Or tell Chip and Dale that you've manipulated them to avenge your own pride? "Hey now..." Monterey stepped forward, ready to argue, but the truth was, he couldn't. Zipper was right. Monterey finally just shrugged helplessly and went back to his cooking. "Look, Zipper, I promise I'll figure somethin' out. The track meet is only a few days away. That's enough time for me to come up with some sort of plan." Just tell them, Monty, Zipper advised with a nod. They're your friends, and although they'll be more than slightly peeved, they'll forgive you. Granted, Zipper added with a shrug, you might have to run through the gauntlet a few times... "Thanks for the pep talk, mate," Monterey grumbled. "Just trust me. I know exactly what do to." Zipper rolled his eyes. Oh good, I feel so much more reassured now, he sarcastically thought. The gym was a bustle of activity for the rest of the training. Both Chip and Dale dove into their exercises with an energy Monterey hadn't seen for a long time. Their lap times improved immensely, and their overall prowess continued to climb. Monterey didn't bother to direct them that much anymore, as they had picked up on all the basics and were expanding on their own. So, Monterey used the time to finish his entry into the bake-off. He finally decided on an extra thick, double-layered, Swiss and Cheddar cake, topped with a light cream icing and sprinkled walnut chunks. He still, however, hadn't figured a way out of the predicament he was in. He was still trying to come up with some sort of plan when the day of the track meet finally arrived. It was a perfect day for it. Bright, blue sky; warm, glowing sun; fresh, steady breeze; and riled, energetic chipmunks. Monterey watched from the side of the track as Chip and Dale headed out to the competition sign-in with the rest of the contestants. Monterey was a little worried about Rogueford mentioning something about the bet, but the flying squirrel merely sneered at Chip and Dale. The chipmunks replied to the warm greeting with a snarl. "Well, they've got the fair sport idea down, anyway," Monterey mumbled as he took out his clipboard. Zipper and Gadget were watching from the stands (which she had expanded and reinforced), cheering their fellow Rangers on. Monterey risked a glance up at Zipper, who just smiled. Monterey felt ill at ease. He got the distinct impression that Zipper was up to something. But the sign-in was finished, so Monterey put it out of his mind. The first event was the 100 decimeter dash. Chip and Dale lined up with the other contestants. Fortunately, Rogueford was on the other side of the others, so the most they could do was shoot dirty looks at him. Rogueford, on the other hand completely ignored the chipmunks. Thus, he was able to spring into a run the moment the starting gun fired. Chip and Dale, still trying to just will Rogueford into submission, were caught off-guard, and left in the dust by the rest of the group. Monterey tried to convince himself that the sinking feeling in his stomach was from breakfast, and not from watching Rogueford cross the finish line first. Rogueford sauntered by Monterey with a knowing grin, but didn't say anything. Chip and Dale, puffing a bit, staggered in with a confused look on their faces. "Wow," Dale breathed, "they sure did run fast after the gun was fired." "Maybe," Monterey started, "that's why they call it a *dash*!" Monterey slapped his hand over his face, trying to wake up from this nightmare. "Oh yeah," Dale nodded. "So now what?" Chip's voice was still determined, if a bit breathless. "Now, mates, you go on to the next event. But first..." Monterey motioned for them to have a seat. He realized that despite their natural abilities, they knew next to nothing about athletic competitions. "Listen, don't let your personal grudges mess up your concentration. You saw how you two were dead last in that race? It's because you weren't payin' attention to what was happenin'." The chipmunks kicked at the ground as Monterey spoke, trying to seem nonchalant. Monterey's tone brightened. "But that was just the first event, mates. Remember, it's the guy with the highest point total at the end of it all who wins. You two had a bad start, but that doesn't mean you're out of the runnin'." Chip nodded, his perseverance settling back in. Dale straightened up and took a few deep breaths. "Okay, Monty." Dale looked around. "Where to now?" "Over there, mates." He pointed to the long track of dirt. "The long jump." They jogged over briskly, and Monterey started to think that they might actually have a shot. His thought became more believable as Chip seemed to sail from the line, landing a good foot past the last mark, placing him first. Dale's own leap brought him into third place, and another competitor came in second, leaving Rogueford out of the top three. As Rogueford walked by Monterey this time, it was Monterey who was grinning knowingly. Chip and Dale gave Monterey a nod and a smile as they passed by, seeming much more confident. Monterey gave them a thumbs-up, and checked his clipboard. They were back in the race. Also, if he recalled correctly, this was the first time ever that Rogueford hadn't placed in the top three. Things were looking up. The shot-put was next, and it was here that Dale showed true talent. As he lifted the lead pellet and began his twist, he tripped over his own feet, and snapped forward, shooting the pellet of his hand. He landed flat on his face within the circle, so he couldn't see that the pellet thudded to the ground about three inches farther from the leading marker. While the announcers couldn't decide if they liked Dale's "unorthodox throwing method", they did agree that it apparently worked. Dale took first place, pushing Rogueford down to third. The chipmunks stopped back by Monterey for a quick drink of water, then headed to the next event: the high jump. In this event, Monterey sadly knew, Rogueford was king. His lean frame and lifetime of leaping into glides enabled him to take first place with ease. Still, despite his shorter frame, Dale managed to snag third place. The last event before the afternoon break was the 400 decimeter run. This time, both Chip and Dale keep their eyes focused ahead of them and their ears open for the starting gun. They took off with the rest of the pack, tearing down the track. Rogueford's long strides put him in the lead, but not by far. Everyone, not just Chip and Dale, was close behind. In the last part of the race, Dale made his move, calling upon his younger years of racing to the television to watch the morning cartoons. His final burst of speed brought him even to Rogueford, but the flying squirrel had his own burst of speed, and he crossed the finish line first, with Dale second. The two chipmunks flopped to the ground over by Monterey. "This is more strenuous than I thought," Chip admitted. Dale merely gasped in agreement. "Well, normally the events are spread out over two days," Monterey explained, "But because they have other things going on, like the bake-off, they split them between the early and late afternoon." "Are we winning yet?" Dale managed between pants. "Well," Monterey checked his clipboard. "It's still too early to say for sure. Rogueford has a definite lead in points--" The chipmunks groaned simultaneously. "--but," Monterey plowed on, "Dale, you're only a couple of places behind him. Chip, you're not out of the race, but you're not a main contender, yet." Chip rolled his eyes, and pushed himself to a sitting position. "Ah, I'm more of a thinker than a runner, anyway," he shrugged. "Besides, as long as Rogueford doesn't win, I'm a happy chipmunk." You and me both, bucko, Monterey thought. "That's the spirit, mates." Monterey struck a classic pose. "Remember, it's not whether you win or lose, but how you beat the opposition." Dale looked to Chip, who shrugged. "Sounds good to me." "Hi guys!" a soothing voice cheerfully called out. Gadget came bounding down the field towards her friends. "You're doing great!" She grinned broadly at all three of them. "Golly, this is exciting, isn't it? What great way to spend our time off." "I'm going to need time off from this time off," Chip muttered as he weakly stood, but he managed a smile. Dale also struggled to his feet. "Where's the water? I feel like I'm ready to drink the Ohio river!" Zipper flew over with a small cup. He motioned over to a large water cooler in the center of the field. Chip and Dale nodded and started over only to be intercepted by Gadget. She hugged them both, beaming. "Keep it up guys! The Rangers are looking really good out there!" She released them, and they both collapsed to the ground, lost in a light-headed haze. Gadget had turned to Monterey, so wasn't aware of their new condition. "I'm going to check with everyone to see how the stands and booths are holding up. I'll see you guys after the competition!" She merrily danced off. Monterey scooped up the chipmunks and started them in the direction of the water cooler. "Remember, mates, one foot in front of the other." They nodded absent-mindly, still smiling, and headed off. "Hopefully the water will bring them back down to Earth," he mumbled, then turned to Zipper. "All right, mate, what are you up to?" He eyed the housefly suspiciously. Me? Zipper grinned innocently. Why, Monterey Jack, whatever makes you think that? "Don't give me that innocent housefly routine, mate," Monterey replied with a sigh. "I've been around the cheese factory enough times to know better." Well, Zipper shrugged, if it makes you feel any better, I haven't done anything you wouldn't have done. Zipper then turned and flew off back to the stands. "Oh good," Monterey sarcastically said. "I feel *so* much better." He was left to stew over it for the rest of the break, but to no avail. He was forced to give up as the break ended, and everyone's attention turned back to the decathlon. The hurdles had been set up during the break, so all was ready for the 110 decimeter hurdles. The contestants lined up, refreshed and ready to tackle the event. The starting gun fired, and they started the track. Rogueford's tall frame put him out in front of the chipmunks, but Monterey didn't mind too much as two other competitors were in the front, and Rogueford finished third. Dale gained a good deal of ground back at the discus throw. All those years of playing Frisbee finally paid off, as he took first place. To make matters even better, this was Rogueford's worst event, with him placing far behind. It was apparent that the race was boiling down to Dale and Rogueford as they approached the next event: the pole vault. Rogueford went first, and pretty much set the standard, as Monterey feared. Dale, along with a number of other competitors, came up short. Four competitors managed to beat Rogueford's initial height, however, and one of them happened to be Chip, surprising everyone. As the bar was raised, so was everyone's bewilderment as Rogueford dropped out of the top three, and Chip planted the pole so well that the announcers thought he may have cleared the bar by at least an half-inch, putting him in first place. The javelin throw secured Chip's chances, as his javelin soared into first place. Dale, never to be left far behind, placed a respectable third, and another competitor placed second, forcing Rogueford out. With the final event coming up, the 1500 decimeter run, Monterey checked his clipboard. Rogueford was still ahead of Chip and Dale, but barely. If either of the chipmunks won this event, they would win the decathlon. Of course, then they would be expecting a nonexistent kiss, but he'd worry about that once it came up. The important thing now was to beat Rogueford. Rogueford had been uncharacteristically silent for a while now. Of course, in past years, he had already accumulated enough points that he didn't need to worry about the last event to win the decathlon. But Chip and Dale had seriously upset his plans. Between the two of them, they had managed to take first, or at least place higher than him. And even bump him down the placement list a few times. This race was serious now, and he was obviously uncomfortable with the stress he felt for the first time. Monterey knew, however, that Rogueford could defeat that stress. That's what being an athlete was all about. Monterey couldn't count on Rogueford to lose, he had to count on Chip and Dale to win. The two chipmunks were equally serious. They knew this race meant the difference between victory and defeat. They lined up with the others, all of them stone-faced and silent. The audience quieted down, feeling the blanket of tension settle over the clearing. For a few seconds, the entire area was still, even the wind waiting in anticipation. Then the gun was fired, and they were off. The crowd cheered wildly, not really sure who they were cheering for, but just enjoying the act. Monterey had mentioned to Chip and Dale the big difference between this race and the first, the 100 decimeter dash. The first concentrated on raw power and speed. This one emphasized endurance and lasting power. Pacing was what it was all about. So Monterey didn't allow himself to get hopeful as he saw Rogueford running in the middle of the pack, because practically everyone else was. Chip and Dale were alongside of Rogueford, but paid him no heed. Monterey nodded in approval. At least they'll come away from this with a new appreciation for the blokes that do this their whole life, he thought. The crowd, too, was pacing itself. The cheering was fairly generic and simple. They were saving their passion for the final straightaway, and showed so as they burst into enthusiastic yelling when the runners reached it. The runners, as well, burst into varying degrees of speed. Rogueford pulled to the front of the pack, while Chip and Dale chose to wait. As they neared the finish line, Chip and Dale finally made their move, pulling close to Rogueford, and even up alongside of him and the other leaders. But in the last few paces, the leaders, including Rogueford, put out their last bit of speed, just enough to place them ahead of the chipmunks. Rogueford didn't get first, but he did come in second, while neither Chip or Dale got third. Monterey sighed heavily. "So close, yet so far," he grumbled. He didn't blame anyone but himself. He set down the clipboard and started over to the stage. He hated to do it, but he would have to face up to Rogueford and his cronies. Monterey planned to be as blunt as possible about it. "I lied," he practiced. He wasn't going to ask if Chip and Dale would actually go through with the bet, and he certainly wasn't going to ask Gadget. He'd shave his moustache before it went that far. On his way over, though, he was surprised to Rogueford grumbling, and walking in the opposite direction. He spotted Monterey and frowned. "You're lucky this time, Monty!" he called out. "Wait 'til next year!" He then turned away, having no desire to talk to Monterey anymore. Monterey scratched his head. "What was that all about?" he wondered out loud. It was a draw, Zipper buzzed behind him. "A draw?" Monterey turned around to face Zipper. "What do you mean, mate? Chip and Dale lost." And so did Rogueford, Zipper nodded. The bet you made was on the condition that either Rogueford or that Chip and Dale would come in first. "But Rogueford beat them in the last race." Monterey still didn't understand. "He won." No, Zipper shook his head, Bruce Kracker won. He accumulated the most points. Monterey was caught flat-footed by this. "He did?" he finally managed. Zipper nodded. You were so wrapped up in keeping track of Rogueford, Chip, and Dale, that you never stopped to consider the rest of the competition. Bruce placed in the top three in every event, and he was the one who beat Rogueford in the last event. "So Rogueford didn't win'," Monterey slowly nodded. "But neither did the lads, so the bet is off." Zipper nodded and winked. Of course, someone--or rather somefly--had to explain this to Rogueford as well. Monterey's face broke into a grin. "Why you schemin'....When did you explain this to Rogueford?" This morning, during the break, Zipper smiled. I decided not to tell you until later, because, well it's fun to watch you sweat. Monterey let out a huge sigh of relief. "So I can walk away from this whole thing scot-free, then." You could...Zipper's gaze took a disapproving squint. "But I won't." Monterey sighed. He realized that he had been sighing a great deal in the past five minutes. "I might as well fess up. Where're the lads?" He question was answered as Chip and Dale strode over, next to a very proud Gadget. "Way to go, guys!" she grinned. "The Rangers have really made a name for themselves today." "Yeah, and lookit!" Dale held up his trophy. "I got third place! Who'd a thunk it?" "Congratulations, Dale." Chip grinned and nudged his best friend. "I knew somewhere under those flabby muscles was a true athlete." Dale grinned back. "Did not!" He winked. Chip laughed and bowed to Dale. "I am humbled before my athletic superior." "Really?" Dale asked. Chip smiled and shook his head. "Well, I'm glad that at least Rogueford didn't win that kiss. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be on the stage, Gadget?" Gadget blinked. "I should?" "Well, yeah," Dale nodded, confused at Gadget's confusion. "You were going to give the winner a -- how did you put it Monty? -- 'A big ol honkin' smack on the lips', or something to that affect." Gadget's eyes grew wider. "I was going to do *what*?" "Hold it mates." Monterey let out a long breath. "I think I can clear this up..." It was a lovely day outside. The warm sun danced its way down through the leaves of the Ranger headquarters. Chip and Dale were basking out on the branches, enjoying the first chance to do so in weeks. Gadget merrily tinkered with some small device. "Hey guys," she looked up from her work. "I need to get my wrench to finish this. Do you two want something to drink while it's being retrieved?" "Yeah, Gadget. Thanks." Chip smiled without looking over. "And something to eat would be nice, too," Dale added. Gadget grinned and nodded. She picked up the bell laying next to her and rang it heartily. In the kitchen, Zipper was munching on a cherry. He watched with a smirk as Monterey stomped down the hallway, grumbling. Some clanking and clinking noises followed, and Monterey stomped back up the hallway, turning into the kitchen. Something wrong, Monty? Zipper tried to keep from laughing. "Oh, *very* funny, mate." Monterey grumbled, setting Gadget's wrench down on the table. He opened the refrigerator, taking out a pitcher of lemonade and some assorted fruit. Honestly, Monty, I think you did pretty well at the meet, Zipper nonchalantly continued. Dale, under your coaching, got third place. That's impressive for his first time. And your dish won first place again. Monterey merely hrumphed as he placed everything on a tray. And you have to admit, the others took the news of those bets you made rather well. Zipper took another bite out of the cherry so he wouldn't laugh out loud. Monterey stopped and just stared in annoyance at Zipper. "You're a real big attitude booster, ya know, Zip?" His sarcasm dripped onto the tray. The bell rang from outside, and Monterey cringed. "I'm comin'!" he called out the window. "Crikey," he mumbled as he picked up the tray, "I only got two hands." He then stomped out of the door, frowning all the way. Zipper could hear the others as Monterey arrived. "Ah, here he is!" Chip brightly said. "Why looking so glum, Monty?" Gadget asked, a trace of amusement in her voice. "You only have thirteen more days of this to go." "Yep." Dale briskly added. "One day for each day we had to obey our coach'." Zipper heard him bite into an apple. "Mmmm...this fruit is sweet...," Dale started. "But not as sweet as sweet revenge," Chip finished. Everyone laughed and agreed, except for Monterey, for some strange reason. The End Characters from the Rescue Rangers series are copyrighted by Disney and used here without permission. All other characters are copyrighted by Matt Plotecher. Distribute freely, but do not modify.