Awareness dawned, slowly and reluctantly. Sleep was a bane, and waking up worse. Not that the bed wasn't comfortable, and she didn't feel a certain lazy pleasure in it, but that was a postscript. Like every morning, the first thing that struck her as she opened her eyes was the nagging, unspecific knowledge that there were things she hadn't been able to finish before exhaustion forced her to bed, and there would be even more of them before she went to bed again tonight.
Better shower. Get that out of the way. Sliding out of bed, Gadget reached down to pull off her nightgown, and discovered she wasn't wearing it. Its position several feet away on the floor stirred memories, but like most of them they were cloudy and half-formed. Best not to put off that shower any longer.
Hot water helped a lot, and the feel of it coursing over her body was one of the few truly sensual pleasures she allowed herself. Of course, drying her gigantically long hair took a frustratingly long time, but rather like the shower, her hair was the rebellious note of femininity she so zealously maintained, and anyway, it gave her a few minutes to try and remember just what she was trying to put together last night. The exact concept was naggingly out of reach, though the images that flashed through her head were intriguing.
Clean, refreshed... any makeup today? No, only the Boys were likely to see her, and they certainly didn't care. By the same token, sorting through her closet to get dressed was going to be a snap. Ah, loose denim. Utilitarian, hard-wearing, and flame-resistant.
The sun was up pretty high. At least she'd rested passably. Breakfast would probably be served any time now, so she's probably better not go into her workshop. Well, maybe she could take a *peek*. What was that thing she was working on so hard last night, anyway?

Seeing it didn't educate her any further. It didn't look anything like the images in her head. Probably building things in her dreams again - it would explain why her memories were so muddled. Some sort of modified flashbulb... oh, yes!
"It's my...!" she started to exclaim, only to immediately fumble over a name. Well, she knew what it *did*. It made secret messages show up on paper through irradiation. A nice, easy test without having to deal with solvents or dyes or open flames or anything silly like that. Quickly dabbing the end of a scavenged hypodermic into a bottle of lemon juice, she scrawled 'Oh God, yes!' invisibly onto a postage stamp, and pasted it up onto the wall. For a moment, as she fumbled to lift her bulky invention, she wondered where her brain came up with what came out when she looked for a random phrase. Last time it was 'Whey hey, good-bye', and there certainly didn't seem to be any connection.
The bulb was hefted onto her shoulder. The switch was pulled. The glare of the momentary flash proved to be much less painful than anticipated - the light was just too focused, she supposed, and it's not like it was primarily visible anyway. And the result...? Oh, foo.
Well, on the one hand, her invention didn't even *remotely* do what it was supposed to. On the other hand, the effect was pretty fascinating! The stamp had been stained pitch black, as if it had come out of a laser printer, while the wood of the wall around it had been bleached several shades paler than before. Setting the serendipitously malfunctioning curiosity down, she examined her fingertips. Yes, the tips of them where they'd peeked over the edge of the reflecting dish were tanned now. Golly!
"Luv, oi'm not askin' ya this time, I'm tellin' ya. Put yer toys down an' come 'avea bonzah breakfast with me'n the Boys, raight?" Monteray's voice instructed her, with a certain warmly affectionate blandishment. Where could that be coming from? Oh, of course, the door.
Lavishing one of her sunniest smiles on him, Gadget assured, "I'll be right there! This shouldn't take more than five minutes, tops." After all, all that was necessary was to strip the machine down, take a few notes on how it was constructed, ring the bulb with her glass cutter, and do a chemical analysis on the film treatment. Such a potentially useful device should be studied. She wished she knew how she'd arrived at the design in the first place, but reverse engineering would give her a chance to write it all down. Of course, writing these things down every time would be easier. Definitely time to buy a notebook.
To her astonishment, she heard a cough behind her. Was Monteray still here? "No, luv," he insisted firmly, "Roight now."
Men could be so demanding. And so could stomaches. Even as she opened her mouth to respond and words formed on her lips, Gadget realized that hers was aching from hunger, and her whole body was starting to feel a little sick and weak. "Oh, gosh. You know, you're right? It is breakfast time!"
Gently, Monteray rolled his eyes. Vaguely, she wondered why.

She was used to strange expressions anyway. For example, as she took her seat at the table, Dale inhaled deeply through his nose, despite the fact that he was already halfway through his pecan omelette. Chip... just stared. Nervously, she checked herself over. Remembered to dress? Yes, there's her jumpsuit. Underwear all seemed to be correct. No obvious spots or stains. Zipper raised to a suitable level. The Boys were harsh critics as far as clothing was concerned. Oh, they never bothered with their own wardrobe, no, but let her forget her undershirt or her zipper be just a little out of place, and there would be Chipper's eyes, staring. Nothing seemed to be out of place today, and anyway, who understands a chipmunk's mind? Suddenly, thinking about her clothing triggered off a flash of cognisance far too quick to put into words.
"When did you guys get to bed last night?" she asked immediately.
For a moment, there was silence. Did she interrupt something? They were talking about something or other, weren't they? She hoped she wasn't being rude, but she definitely had to know. Finally, Chip filled her in. "About twelve-thirty."
"An' worth every minute of sleep lost, luv!" burst out Monteray, "Cor, but I never saw a movie tha' bad."
"Yeah!" broke in Dale eagerly, "The bit where the spaceship comes down, pshew-pshew-pshew-pshew, and the building blows up, BANG!" He dissolved immediately into a fit of giggles, and Chip and Monteray both grinned, rather sheepishly.
"That's such a relief!" she declared immediately. "I just realized I did the silliest thing. I think it was actually 1am before I finished reading and decided to go to bed, and just when I'd undressed and was about to put on my nightshirt, inspiration hit me! I'm sure I forgot about it entirely, and I was working in the workshop completely naked until 4am, when I finally couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. It's good to know no one else was awake in the house. I mean, can you imagine?"
No one said anything else through the whole rest of breakfast.

She was just stepping back into the workshop when it hit her. The climbing device! An immediate struggle followed. Should she take apart that flashbulb invention? It looked extremely interesting. Should she at least go out and get a notepad before starting her next project so that she could take proper notes this time? But of course, there was no time for either. With those kinds of delays, she'd lose the fresh, clear picture that she had in her head! She had to get it built now.
Nail clippers. Thimble. Thumbtacks. Unscrew. Cut. Strip. Pound. Weld... until she lost track, and slipped into the pleasant haze of total, absolute focus on her project.
As always, when that ended it came with a screeching halt. This time because the invention was complete! How beautifully, elegantly simple, a cunning dance of torque and friction. Except... wasn't it supposed to be used to climb? She couldn't figure out how it could do that. It looked just like it did in her dream, though, and with that much tension stored in the body, it clearly did something. Of course, problems like this have one inevitable solution, and she unfastened the clasp that held her new creation in readiness.
A busy second later, she surveyed the pieces. That right there would have to be improved on. The whole thing came apart under the stress of release! And it certainly didn't work as advertised. Maybe if she'd released it closer to, it would have imbedded itself in the wall and created a step, but as it was it just flung a dozen steel needles into it like a catapult.
She shivered. Weapons. Ugh. This one could really hurt someone, too. Non-lethal, stunning attacks were so much more refined. Prying one of the spikes out of the door, it occured to her that she was very lucky none of the Boys had come in. They tended to have such hysterical reactions to her failed inventions. Anyway, there was definitely the kernel of a very practical idea in there, she just had to fiddle around with different combinations until she found it. Hopefully she wouldn't need to resort to machine-tooling some parts. More and more she'd had to do that lately, and it made her wonder if she was losing her touch. Making your own parts was admitting to failure. A genius could make whatever she needed out of whatever junk lay at hand.
"Gadget, luv, you've been in this workshop all day, and from the sounds of it all night, too. This 'ermit act has gone just about far enough, don't you think?" Oops! Did Monteray open the door while she was thinking? Well, obviously so.
"It's sweet of you to worry about me, Monty," she chirped back, grateful but distracted. What would be an optimal configuration? Could she use the same parts? "I'm not trying to avoid socialization or anything. It's just been a very inspiring week! You know you can always call me if there's a crime." Maybe she could link two together, like nun-chaku with some kind of winding mechanism, and use them to walk up a wall.
Were those hands against her back? She felt herself being pushed forward, and the thread of her plans left her as she traded the bright lights of her workshop for the dimmer main hall.
"Now, there's neither hide nor hair of crime, but ai wager th' lads outside would love to have a third for their frisbee game."
"Golly, I... I guess I could," she hazarded, trying desperately to reroute her thought processes, "I'll have to change clothes first."
Monteray's look was obviously suspicious, but he capitulated. "All raight, luv. But I'm guardin' tha doors. You're no' gettin' back intah your lab until I've seen you have a proper, healthy good time outdoors."
Gadget just giggled. Monty was so silly.

Facing her closet, Gadget faced the real dilemma. *What* was she going to wear? The usual jumpsuit was out, so she wriggled out of it, and threw it and her underwear into her clothes hamper. Well, a sports bra was a must. She'd... *jiggle* a lot less in a sports bra. It would just be more comfortable. The black one would be fine. Less support than some, but its sheer lines would keep it from drawing unnecessary attention. Black panties to match, of course. Thong-lined, with the straps high on the waist? Depending on what she wore, they might peek out. Racey. Very racey. She could indulge herself just once, though, and it would be a striking effect, properly managed. It's not like the Boys would think anything of it anyway.
Her automated system for her wardrobe was unquestionably her greatest invention. It was times like this that struck her, as she let it zoom back and forth, her eyes flickering over the passing items, letting her mind go blank until something struck her... there!
A bright red lycra baby tee. Very, very clingy and formfitting. Shorts to match. Warm, but really perfect sporting wear.

She found Chip and Dale near the trunk of the tree when she finally bounced her way down the steps. Good warm-up exercise, anyway. They looked like they had just fallen over each other, and their struggles to get up had turned into a brawl. Boys. They're so aggressive!
Rather as expected, they both stared hard at her outfit, so intently she knew they disapproved. Well, they would just have to put up with it. If they paid more attention to their own grooming, she'd respect their opinions on hers more.
Naturally, they continued squabbling as they recovered the frisbee, a magnificently aerodynamic old button. With a giggle, she accepted it from Chip, who seemed to have won out. At least victory had distracted him from brooding over her outfit. He still seemed to be staring, even up close, but he was smiling now.
Daintily, she accepted the frisbee, and flung it gaily away across the park. Off they went! It was a unique, even endearing, talent the way those two could run at top speed and squabble simultaneously.
It really was nice out here. The sun was warm, the sky a beautiful shade of blue, and the smell of green growing things surrounded and filled - oops! There came the frisbee! Performing a desperate leap, she snatched it out of the air and sent it off flying again. Where was she? Probably trying not to choke herself laughing as Chip and Dale performed some kind of frisbee duel only they could understand, tossing it back and forth to each other in short, savage throws over and over.
Oh, there it came again! Scuttling backwards, she made another jump, grabbed it, and tucked herself into a ball hurriedly, tumbling end over end in somersaults until she'd lost enough momentum to leap back to her feet.
Now they'd forgotten each other. Now things were serious. Chip and Dale fanned out, covering the angles. Watching her. Had they thought she was out of shape just because she worked inside all day? She'd like to see them turn a wrench twice their own height. Their eyes were solemn, too, watchful little slits, focused on her and on the other chipmunk.
She'd teach them a lesson. Now, what kind of range had she been getting? Okay, estimate angular velocity... so the vectors added together to produce... got it.
Better get the maximum possible lever action. Drawing herself inward, she uncurled again smoothly, like a string unwinding from a top. Off the frisbee went flying, and she watched the chipmunks' jaws hang in stupefaction as it sailed away in completely the opposite direction - until it struck the base of a water fountain, and went rocketing back towards them! They ducked in time, but the discus just ricocheted again, off a rock, a tree root, a passing boy's bicycle (she was proud of that), buzzing them again and forcing them to fling themselves out of - oops. She thought for sure one of them would catch it on this pass. Where would it go now?
Well, it hit a half-buried soda pop bottle, bounced off dustbin...
"Hey! Give that-"
"Ow!"
"AAAUGH!"
Uh-oh.
She scurried quickly over to the patch of thick crabgrass the frisbee disappeared behind. There were a trio of park squirrels, one young boy and two teenagers. Both of the latter were sprawled face-first on the ground with noticeable lumps on their heads, and one of them was carrying a huge, half-sucked lollipop. Honestly, some people would steal anything, wouldn't they?
"The Rescue Rangers!" exclaimed the tyke, "Wow, that was cool! He grabbed it, and *WHACK*! You knocked them cold! How'd you do that so fast?"
"Actually, it was-" Gadget started to explain, but abruptly Dale was grabbing her hips and turning her back towards the treehouse.
"We'll take care of the cleanup here, Gadget. Why don't you go back inside?" Chip suggested solicitously.
A memory suddenly trickled through her brain. She glanced at the sky. Why yes, the sun was sinking rapidly!
"Okay! You're right, I'd better go get dressed for my date!"
Boy, that got a funny look, didn't it?

*What* was she going to wear? That was always the hardest puzzle to solve. Unlike Engineering, she was entering into a realm of impressions and shades of meaning rather than hard numbers.
Well, it was a date. A *date* date. Gosh, her whole body tingled with excitement at the whole idea! It's not like she went on many of those. She'd thought, briefly, that Chip or Dale might ask her out, but they didn't seem to be interested. Oh, they asked her out occasionally, but it was always to group events like picnics, or similarly friendly activities. Jeepers, maybe they were... but she wasn't going to think about that, was she? It wasn't polite. She'd been over this before - they were her friends, and deserved the benefit of the doubt wherever it might be required.
Anyway, back to the issue at hand. A *date*. Obviously, she should pull out all the stops. Tight bodice, blue sequins, low decolletege? Stockings? Some sort of dress, obviously. Going on a date in pants seemed rude and unattractively masculine.
Briefly, she considered her red evening gown. It was a lovely number, there was no denying it. Even Chip and Dale noticed her in that. And it was simple, and perhaps she shouldn't dress up too extravagantly the first time, in case that gave some sort of wrong impression. Whatever kind of impression that could be.
The problem was the makeup. Not the eyeshadow and lipstick. She'd be putting on at least some of those no matter what she chose. No, it was the all-over foundation powder that turned her skin dark, and the platinum (as opposed to her own natural strawberry) blonde wig on its stand at the back of the closet. Somehow, that didn't seem honest, on a date. Judging from the way he looked at her, Lars must find her pretty attractive. Pulling a bait-and-switch seemed just wrong.
And then, epiphany. It was all she could do to keep from moaning, the idea arose within her, so pure, so perfect, so simple and elegant and precisely suited to her needs. For a moment she savored the golden, floating sensation before taking hold of her focus again. The flashbulb!
Throwing off everything, she bolted, naked into the workroom. Oops, better bar the door to the living room. Okay, done. Now grab the machine, Gadget, close your eyes, and turn it towards your head. Pull the switch...
Even through her closed eyelids the flash was dizzying. When she could see again, she raced back into her room to peer into the mirror... YES! A beautiful bleach blonde, looking completely natural except for how starkly pale it was. And the tan? An even, tropical golden-brown.
She finished the job in the workshop, of course. She didn't want to accidentally stain her personal belongings with it. Odd bleached patches on tools or workbenches wouldn't be an issue. Then, back to her closet! Gown. Pumps. Garter. A choker... the little one with the antique ivory cameo. Earrings. Jade? No, ruby. Bloody scarlet was the color for the evening.
She had to slow down a bit to apply her makeup. Couldn't rush that. Grab her purse. Anything forgotten? She looked around her somewhat despoiled bedroom. If she had, it would have to stay forgotten. To the hanger!
Or... not. Peeking through her cracked open bedroom door, she saw the Boys waiting in the hall. Chip and Dale were arguing about something, as usual. Monteray was scowling, and Zipper flew around in tight, anxious circles.
She shut the door again hurriedly. What was this about? They'd have told her if there was a crime in progress. It had to be her date. Anger welled up within her, so hot, so bitter and violent that it was terrifying, and she hurriedly let it dissipate. Resentment still seethed, though. How dare they interfere? Did she ASK for the big brother act? She knew they'd all had romantic lives before joining the Rangers, even if things were a bit busy now. For all she knew, Chip and Dale had had a dozen girlfriends since they started working together. Did they just assume she was too plain, too much a geek for any man to be interested in her? She should destroy them! DESTROY THEM ALL! THEY LAUGHED AT HER AT TH-
Leaning against the doorframe, she took a few deep breaths. She was letting her emotions get on top of her again. The Boys meant well, she knew it, but she'd already agreed to this date, and she wasn't going to let them try and talk her out of it. They'd probably succeed, if she let them try. It wasn't like her knees didn't go weak at the whole idea.
So, no hangar. Well, she had a one-mouse autogyro in her workshop. She'd sneak out using that! It was still experimental, true, but if it broke down on the way she could always fix it again.

Mouse-sized neon? Very chic! Vaguely, Gadget wondered where they got it. 'MIDNIGHT MOTLEY' it flashed, above a flight of steps leading down, not up, into... oh. Oh, wow. That wasn't a restaurant. It was... what did they call them? A club? She'd never been in one before! She never thought she'd ever get the CHANCE.
Gingerly, she eased her way down the stairs and into the front door. There were a couple of husky rats on either side of the entrance who seemed to be checking people in and examining them closely, and there was quite a line, but they just looked at her and nodded towards the interior. Inside it was loud. Incredibly loud. The music was a physical thing, pounding through her body, invigorating her, exciting her. Of course, she'd never admit to having a taste for this popular stuff, but she stood there and tried to enjoy it for a few moments without being obvious, before she'd be forced to disapprove again.
One of the door rats was still watching her. Actually, a lot of people were watching her, and most of them were grinning. Had she made a fool of herself again? No, no they seemed to approve. In stubborn triumph, she stuck out her chin. Five years of studying fashion books was paying off, alright. She knew Chip and Dale were just stick-in-the-muds who couldn't appreciate style. Obviously, everyone loved her look. She blushed a bit as she realised the door rat was leaning in, clearly preparing to say something.
But... there was Lars!
Wow. He looked good. What was he a squirrel? She couldn't really tell. He'd obviously had a rough life, and he had an unidentifiable, muscular scrounginess that had nothing to do with bad hygeine and everything to do with living his life on the wrong side of the law. It had been a questionably attractive combination when she agreed to make the date, but in a tailored black suit it made him so masculine that electricity seemed to dance up and down her spine.
She had the vague impression that he said something witty as he put his arm around her and led her deeper into the club, so she giggled appreciatively. The touch was loose and respectful, even gentlemanly. That was good, but the look he gave the door rat was chilling. Did she want to be going out with a man who was that casually inured to violence? Well, fine time to ask that question NOW, Gadget.
Pulling her a little closer, he husked to her above the din, "I can't believe you gave me your number. I can't believe you agreed to go out with me!" His eyes were devouring her. *Devouring* her. Like everything else about him, it was exciting, but kind of intimidating, too. Maybe the gown was a bit too much for the first date? And yet, he let her go quickly again, and pulled out her chair at a nice little wrought-iron table.
"I can't believe you're not in jail!" she giggled back, aware it wasn't, perhaps, the most clever thing she'd ever said.
"Out on bail, babe. You guys caught me pretty good, but I'm going to enjoy my freedom while I've still got it. Girls like you give me something to look forward to when I get out again."
Oh, wow. Was this how people talked on dates? Her boyfriend - was he her boyfriend? No... no, that was going too far. He was just some guy she was going out with, probably only once. Either way, his voice was thick with overtones. She wondered what they meant.
And the way he was looking at her... "Hey, would you like a drink?"
She blinked. "Oh. You mean... alcohol? I strictly avoid any mind-altering chemicals. It's a morally problematic grey area I prefer not to be embroiled in."
For a moment his laughter stung, but it seemed to be friendly. "Teatotaler? You really are the goodie-two-shoes, aren't you?" His rough hand reached over, and with surprising delicacy a thumb caressed the line of her cheekbone. What was she supposed to do about *that*?
"I do try to do the right thing," she agreed, feeling of all things guilty about that. "I'm not a complete bookworm, though. I do like to have fun! Although I probably don't get out and do it often enough."
"Yeah?" he asked, and now his look had changed, grown a bit more gentle. "Aw, Hell," (such language!) "You are so right. I'm sittin' here with the best-lookin' babe that's ever given me a second glance, and I could be in the clink tomorrow. I should be goin' for it, not sitting around waiting for drinks." Straightening up abruptly, he reached out and grabbed her hand. Not forcibly, but decisively. "Come on. Let's dance!"
"D-dance?! I can't-" But he wasn't listening. She doubted he could even hear her above the throbbing music.
And then... they were surrounded by people, dancing. None of it made any sense to her at all, but after a few seconds, everything seemed to resolve. A few people had obvious natural rhythm and knew what they were doing. Most of the others didn't. No one *cared*. Jerkily, experimentally, careful of her precarious heels, she tried a few steps, and let that scandalous pounding beat begin to envelop her.
It was fun. It was scary. Nobody was laughing at her. So she let the rhythmic movements carry her away, and was just wondering if she should try a more complex step when Lars grabbed her and span her around him. She stumbled on those heels, but managed to stay upright, laughing the whole time, and louder still as he span her back up against him, twining an arm around her waist, dipping her back slightly... and kissing her.
Kissing her. All she could see was his face, his hot eyes. Her heart pounded with the driving beat. Her mouth met his, moulded to it. Did... did she want to do this? Oh, great golly mollies, forget that, his HANDS! They were... she couldn't even think about what they were doing!
They were at the edge of the crowd now. Probably why he had room to maul her this way. For a brief moment, before she pushed the thought away, she felt there might be parts of her body where the sensation of his roaming hands might last the rest of her life.
Concentrate. Simple engineering. There was a table. A salt shaker. Some sort of alcoholic beverage. Perfect. Mix the two with one hand, and...
He screamed as she splashed the concoction in his eyes, making sure to keep her own tightly shut for the crucial moment. It was enough to make him let go of her, and abandoning her pumps she bolted for the entrance of the club.
Would the door rats do anything? No, apparently not. It was cool outside, at least, but she could hear the pounding feet and the growling behind her. She couldn't run nearly as fast as he could, not in this dress! What was she going to do?
There, a discarded paperclip. She grabbed it as she ran. Twist, stretch, balance precisely... as he began to catch up, she twirled abruptly and flung her creation at the ground at his feet. As he stepped on it, it snapped like a trap, returning (more or less) to its original shape, and wrapping him up in makeshift metal chains. It wouldn't hold him for long, but it ought to be enough for her to get away.
He stumbled as it snarled him, but managed not to fall. "Wait!" he shouted. He was panting, his face was flushed, but he didn't... exactly look angry. Or at least, he looked like he was more than *just* angry. "Wait... listen. I'm sorry, Gadget. Yeah, I got carried away there. I thought you wanted it, okay?"
An... apology? Well, it was unexpected, certainly. As long as he didn't try and free himself, she could afford to discuss things. "Um... wanted it?" she echoed uncertainly. "I really don't do... er, you know. That kind of thing."
He grinned at her. It was a strange expression. It didn't really look all that happy. "Yeah? Yeah, I guess I'm not surprised. Maybe I was hoping to convince you otherwise. Hell, so I was hoping to score tonight, okay. So sue me, right?"
She thought about that for a moment. "Well, of course, if you could persuade me to change my mind, obviously that would be different. Then my mind would be changed." It was the only reasonable argument. She didn't see how he could do it, really, but the whole issue was... confusing. Oh, she'd seen movies. She had a decent idea what he wanted from her. It didn't seem like something she should particularly dig her heels in against, particularly given how much movie heroines obviously were into it, but she also recalled nebulous comments from her childhood, about things men did to women, and her mother mentioning girls who'd ruined their reputations. And this was the first date, no less. It would take a pretty good argument to overcome that!
His reply was, at least, surprising. His grin got wider and more eager, and he told her, "That's what the kiss is for. Tell you what. Let me kiss you one more time, and we'll see if I can't change your mind. If I can't, I got a kiss and a dance out of it, right? I'd call that a good score for the evening."
Slowly, she nodded. It was only reasonable. He obviously wasn't going to hurt her. So, maybe a bit ginger about it, she stepped forward towards him again, while he laboriously unbent the paper clip enough to get his arms free. She stepped up into his embrace...
THUMP!
A wooden plank flew right past her, slamming down over Lars. Where did that come from?
"Gadget! Are you alright?" That was Chip's voice.
"Why that dirty, no good..." That was Dale, fuming with anger.
"He didn't... do anything to you, did he, luv?" This was Monteray, as angry as the others, but of course more mature and calm about it.
"Not r-"
"I can't believe we didn't see it coming ourselves!" complained Chip, examining her unconcious date, "If he got free before the trial, he'd stop at nothing to get revenge on us. Why didn't you tell us you'd heard he got away? Making yourself bait and going after him alone like this... that's foolhardy!"
"Now, Chipper, ai reck'n she 'ad her reasons. F'r right now she's 'ad a bit of a scare. Best to let 'er wander on 'ome. Zipper can tag after 'er, just to keep an eye out."
"Um..."
"I'll take her home!" exclaimed Dale immediately.
"You couldn't guard a piggy bank! I'll take her home!"
"Ya BOTH are comin' with me t' get this felon back to th' authorities." Monteray insisted. There was that edge to his voice. The chipmunks grumbled, but they recognised it and didn't argue any more.
Suddenly, Gadget felt very tired. She hadn't gotten to finish her date. She hadn't gotten to finish her climbing invention. Her room waiting for her back at the treehouse was a mess.
Oh, well. There was always tomorrow!
"Golly. Yes. I'm... going to go back home and go to sleep. I won't be up when you get back in! Probably. It's very unlikely. I wouldn't count on it, at least!"

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Written by Tegdag

To leave comments, praise or complains, email the authors representative: Ronnie Rabbit

Disclaimer:
Characters recognised from the show "Chip 'N Dale Rescue Rangers" are copywright Disney, other characters are copywright someone else :).

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