Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers

"Chariots of Fur"

Written by Matt Plotecher

Characters herein are © Walt Disney corporation. Distribute freely, but do not modify.


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 sifted 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,
having been 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. It 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 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 out of my
earshot." He turned and stormed back to the kitchen. Well, he
grumbled in his mind, good chefs are supposed to be
     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 reading about the
varieties of a cheese fondue when a tap on the shoulder drew his
     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
     "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 unobstructed overhead completed the
picturesque setting. The Rangers breathed in deeply, feeling
     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 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, 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 living in the same tree as me? Monterey thought. He
glanced out of the corner of his eye at the chipmunks and
     "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 25%!"
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.
     "Anyway," Gadget flipped another page over on her clipboard,
blissfully oblivious to her surroundings. "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 get all the exercise I
need just being a Ranger. Besides, I've got me bake-off."
     "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, blissfully 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
     "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
     "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
out of 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
     "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
     "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
     "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
contently from one of the shelves. The hammering from the
workshop notified everyone as to the whereabouts of Gadget.
     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
     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
     "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
     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
     "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"
     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 ones who
are going to 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
     "Not a chance!" Monterey grasped Rogueford's extended hand,
and shook it, sealing the bet. "And remember when it's time to
pay the piper, 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
     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 then having to admit he had lost his temper.
     Well nothing! Zipper's glance shoot back. I can understand
you placing yourself in a bet, but Chip and Dale? And I *still*
can't believe what you said about Gadget! And neither will she!
     Monterey tried to appeared absorbed in his cooking. Zipper,
who had know 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
     I am, Zipper buzzed as he flew over and settled down across
from his friend. I have great faith for 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 too. 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.
     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
     "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 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!"
     "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
     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
     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
     Zipper, meanwhile, shrugged and finished off his cherry.
True, he knew Monterey. So, there would be 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,
     "What?" Chip managed between splashes as he washed his face.
     "I don't really think we made a smart decision by signing
     "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. Ruin our
reputation." He gave Chip a wink.
     "Well, we'd better tell Monty." Chip looked out down the
     "Yeah, why don't 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,
     "Besides," Dale called through the door. "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 of 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
     "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 quitting?"
     "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 then 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. "'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 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 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 overreacting 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 getting 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. The 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 beginning the recipient of that
     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's means that he'll be up there on that
podium, and Gadget will walk over to him, take him in her arms,
     "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 patronizing 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 had wandered back in from the police
station. Zipper, however, did not seem to share in Monterey's
     You told them WHAT?! Zipper practically screamed with his
wide eyes.
     "What?" Monterey, actually confused, asked. "Something
     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 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 something 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
walnuts 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 had been 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 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
     "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
     "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 paying attention to what was happening."
     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 running."
     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 Rogueford didn't place in the top three. Things were looking
     The shot-put was next, and it was here that Dale showed true
talent. As he lifted the lead pellet and began his spin, 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
     "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," He shrugged.
"Besides, as long as Rogueford doesn't win, I'm a happy
     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
     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
     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
     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, 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. They 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
     "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 had
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 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, Zipper smiled. I decided not to tell you until
later, well, because 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's 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
     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, am I 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
     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 it's 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
coming!" 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 13 more days of this to
     "Yep." Dale briskly added. "One day for each day we had to
obey our 'coach'." Zipper heard him bite it 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.

   Chip n Dale's Rescue Rangers and all characters from the
series are copyrighted by Disney and used here without permission
(but with unending loyalty :) ). Rogueford is copyrighted by my
own personal self. Distribute freely, but do not modify.