Path: nntp.interaccess.com!swiss.ans.net!howland.reston.ans.net!pipex!uunet!news.delphi.com!usenet From: Troy Klingler Newsgroups: alt.tv.animaniacs Subject: FANFICT: Secret Service Slappy (LONG!) Date: Mon, 10 Oct 94 00:24:39 -0500 Organization: Delphi (info@delphi.com email, 800-695-4005 voice) Lines: 640 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: bos1d.delphi.com The following story was posted as a serial on the Prodigy Arts & Writing BBS. I hope you all will enjoy it as much as our Animaniacs fan club did... Secret Service Slappy by Troy Klinger Chapter 1: White House Nuts ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Aunt Slappy! Aunt Slappy! The paper's here!" Young Skippy Squirrel dashed into his aunt's tree house, bearing a newspaper almost as big as he is. "Can I read the comics first?" he asked. "Sure, kid," Slappy answered from her Barcalounger. "Just hand me the editorial section. I could use a good laugh." Thumbing through the paper, her normally grouchy features took on an even grumpier look. Suddenly she sat up straight. "Would you believe that?" she exclaimed. "And they wonder why the deficit's so high! Why I oughta..." Skippy sighed. "Aunt Slappy really should stick to the comics page," he thought. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Look at this," Slappy said, showing her nephew the article: WHITE HOUSE BRIBES LOCAL SQUIRRELS The Presidential gardener struck a compromise yesterday with squirrels that have been raiding seedlings in the Rose Garden. To keep them away from the Presidential flora, the White House is feeding them peanuts... "Lucky squirrels," Skippy commented. "Pity we don't live there." "Well, Skippy," Slappy said with a grin, "I always did want to meet my old pal the President." "But Aunt Slappy, you always said he was a--" "Now, now, Skippy, never let politics get in the way of a free meal. If our fearless leader wants to give handouts to squirrels, that makes him all right in my book. Come on!" Chapter Two: I Never Promised You a Rose Garden ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After several adventures (and one rather nasty episode onboard the Metro subway), the two squirrels arrived in downtown DC. "This is neat, Aunt Slappy," Skippy exclaimed, looking in wonder at all of the statues and monuments. "Yeah, yeah," Slappy replied. "Now lets see about a bite to eat." Ducking inside the wrought-iron fence around the White House, they slipped onto the South Lawn. "Keep your eyes peeled for that gardener fellow." As the two squirrels explored the Rose Garden, a shadowy figure started following Skippy. It drew closer and closer to the little squirrel, who was totally absorbed in the beauty of the flowers. Suddenly it pounced--only to be decked by a well-placed frying pan held out by Slappy. "OW!!! Hey, man, what'd you have to do that for?" the black and white cat asked, holding his bruised noggin. "Comedy relief," Slappy replied dryly. "Hey, Aunt Slappy, isn't that Socks?" Skippy asked. "Can I get your autograph, Mr. Socks?" "Skippy, this guy almost had you for lunch! What would you want his autograph for?" Slappy asked indignantly. "Er, yeah, kid, I like don't do the autograph thing," Socks replied, wincing. "Especially not with my food." Skippy ducked behind Slappy's back. The old squirrel glared at Socks. "I wouldn't be too hasty with that old food-chain argument if I were you," she said. "Yeah, I get your point," Socks replied wearily. "Look, don't blame me-- I'd rather be eating canned food anyday. It's just that they're downsizing the White House staff and Al Gore talked the Boss into putting me to work as an 'eco-friendly, non-human entry monitor'." "Or as real people say, 'pest control'," Slappy replied. "What happened to the squirrel dole?" "Yesterday's news, man. It got printed up in the Washington Post and now all the columnists are ragging on the Boss again," Socks replied. "Squirrels aren't politically correct these days. Now, if you were an endangered species..." Slappy rolled her eyes and said, "Great! Come on, Skippy. Maybe we can get a bite to eat down on the Mall." As the two squirrels turned to leave, Skippy noticed out of the corner of his eye Socks crouching. "JUMP, AUNT SLAPPY!" he shouted, diving into a nearby azalea bush. Slappy didn't jump, she just ducked as Socks sprang. Missing her by an inch, the cat landed face first into the frying pan again. "Doesn't learn fast, does he?" she said to Skippy. "Aw, come on! I'm just a victim of my genes!" Socks complained. "It's a cat-thing, you know." "Yeah, and this is a squirrel-thing," Slappy said, grabbing the cat by the tail and flinging him across the garden. "Hmm, not bad distance," she commented. "Should have tried out for the Senior Olympics." MEANWHILE, three other shadowy figures lurked nearby... Chapter Three: The Nation in Peril! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As the two squirrels exchanged pleasantries with the White House cat, three other more shadowy figures lurked nearby. "Vell, Zunovbic, do you haff der bag?" one said. "Yes, Kolonel Boorsteen. Right here." the second replied. "And you, Yerbouti? Do you haff der ransom note?" "Written with the tongues of angels, my esteemed leader. It will truly move the infidel President to do--" "Ja, ja, ve know." ***************** As Slappy and Skippy headed back to the fence, there was a loud yowl from where Slappy had tossed Socks. "What the heck--" Slappy started to ask when she was bonked on the head by a brick. A piece of paper tied to it came loose and fluttered to the ground by Skippy's feet. Picking it up, he fanned Slappy awake with it. As she came to, he read the message on it: MISTER PRESIDENT WE HAVE YOUR CAT SURRENDER TO OUR DEMANDS OR YOU WILL NEVER SEE THE MANGY FURBALL AGAIN BEST REGARDS THE UNITED AFRIKANER- IRAQI-YUGOSLAVIAN LIBERATION FRONT Skippy showed it to Slappy. "Oh, great," she said. "Another bunch of foreign bad guys causing trouble. I thought I was through with all that after 'Homefront Slappy' in 1943!" "What do we do, Aunt Slappy?" Skippy asked. "Well, it's the President's cat--let him figure it out." With that, Slappy marched over towards the White House. The two squirrels climbed up the side of the building and ducked into an open window. Once inside, Skippy looked about nervously. "I don't think we're supposed to be in here," he said. "Hey, it's no problem," Slappy replied. "Folks tour this place all the time." She poked her head out into the hall, where three children who looked like puppies were running like crazy, pursued by a dozen tour guides. "Come on, the coast is clear." The two snuck out into the hall and tiptoed towards a room where some music was playing. "Okay, Skippy, we're about to meet the most powerful man on earth," Slappy said, smiling as she opened the door. Suddenly from out of nowhere a dozen Secret Service agents lept into the hallway, guns drawn. Skippy looked up at Slappy and asked, "Clint Eastwood?" Chapter Four: Your Mission, Should You Choose to Accept It ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Slappy and Skippy looked at the ring of armed Secret Service agents surrounding them. Suddenly, a man appeared in the doorway. "What's going on here?" he asked. "Situation under control, Mr. Vice President," the head agent said smartly. "We apprehended these two intruders sneaking in on you." "Intruders?" Al Gore asked, staring at the two squirrels. "Don't you recognize two of nature's creatures? Stand down, people. Come on in, my furry friends," he added warmly. Slappy and Skippy followed the VP into his office. It was plastered with posters of Bono and the Edge. In one corner a stereo was blasting "Sunday, Bloody Sunday". Slappy groaned and covered her ears. "Funny, I never figured you for a U2 fan," Skippy commented. "Don't tell Tipper," Gore replied with a grin as he turned the volume down. "Actually, it helps me tune in with the kids the Boss has on the staff." Settling behind his desk, he continued, "I suppose you two're wondering why there're no more peanuts. Sorry about that--I'm afraid we're victims of bad press, you know. It just looked to much like a giveaway program, and with that welfare reform vote coming up--" "Yeah, well, everyone's a victim around here, it seems," Slappy replied dryly. Skippy handed Gore the terrorists' note. "This is terrible--just terrible!" Gore said, shaking his head as he read it. "Well, I figure you folks can handle it from here," Slappy said, heading for the door. "Come on, Skippy." "Wait!" Gore said sharply. "You can't leave me just now!" "What? I've done my patriotic duty," Slappy asked crossly. "I need you," Gore replied. "I need you to rescue Socks for me." "WHAT!?!" Slappy shouted. "What's wrong with the Keystone Kops out there?" "I can't let any word of this leak--Hillary'd have my head if she found out!" Gore pleaded. "You two are my only hope." As Slappy and the Vice President argued, Skippy wandered around the office. In another corner he found a Habitrail. Inside, two small white mice were fiddling with the cage door. "Whatcha doing?" he asked. "Attempting to overcome an minor obstacle in our plans for world conquest," the smaller of the mice replied in a deadpan voice. "If you would be so kind as to unlock this door, my assistant and I would be most grateful." Skippy scratched his head, and opened the cage. The taller mouse ran out, shouting, "We're free! NARF!" The shorter mouse stepped out more casually, and said, "Excellent, young squirrel lad. When MY new world order is established, your contribution will not go unrewarded." Skippy shrugged his shoulders, and went back to his aunt. "Sorry, mister," Slappy was saying. "Get somebody else to do your dirty work." "There'll be a reward in it for you," Gore said, smiling. "I have friends in the walnut lobby, you know." Chapter Five: The Game's Afoot! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After a long, hot day of fruitless searching the streets of downtown DC for the kidnapped Socks, Slappy and Skippy wandered up Massachusetts Avenue, their tails and spirits dragging. Finally, they came to a back alley where a dog and a cat were scrounging through some trash cans. "Say folks, we're from out of town," Slappy said. "You seen any foreign terrorists around here?" The cat stared at her, and laughed. "Yer kidden me, right?" she scoffed. "Er, Rita, what's a 'terrorist'?" the dog whispered to his companion. "It means a dirty rat, Runt," the cat whispered back. Turning back to Slappy, she asked, "So, why do you want to know?" "'Cause some lowlifes just kidnapped Socks," Slappy said. "Socks? Kidnapped?!?" Rita said, dismayed. "And I was planning to ask him out on a date!" Slappy showed Rita the ransom note. Putting on her best Joe Friday impression, the old squirrel said, "If we don't get him back soon, it's curtains for the Republic. Can you help us?" Rita pondered for a second, and asked, "You wouldn't have something of Socks on you, would you?" "Well, there's this frying pan I bopped him with about a couple of chapters ago," Slappy replied, pulling it out of her purse. "Great!" Rita exclaimed. "Here Runt, time to put that oversized shnozzola of yours to good use. See if you can pick up a scent." Runt stuck his nose into the frying pan and sniffed deeply. "Let's see," he mumbled. "Squirrel. Definitely squirrel. Bacon and eggs, chestnuts...cat! Yeah, definitely cat! Rowrrrrrll....." he growled, baring his teeth. "Lemme at 'im! I'll murdelize him! I'll rip him apart! ROWRRRLLL!!!" Slappy stared at Rita, who just shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't figured him out either," the cat said. "Just go with it." Runt started sniffing the ground along the sidewalks. It wasn't long before he caught a scent. With a loud "WOOF!" he was off down the avenue. Rita grabbed his ears and jumped onboard, pulling Slappy and Skippy up after her. As Rita and the squirrels held on for dear life, Runt dashed up and down the avenue, ducking in and out of embassy driveways, jumping over cars in the street, and generally snarling up traffic. Horns blared, taxi drivers swore, and the crunch of fender hitting fender filled the air. "LOOK OUT FOR THAT LIMO, RUNT!" Rita yelled. "HE'S GOT DIPLOMATIC PLATES!" With a clumsy but lucky tumble, Runt just barely dodged the huge black car bearing down on them. It roared past the four animals and swerved into the gateway of a high, forbidding-looking wall. Catching his breath, Runt said, "That was him, Rita. Definitely him. He was in the big car." Chapter Six: The Cutting Edge of Serbo-Croatian Technology ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After thanking the dog and cat, Slappy and Skippy scrambled over the embassy wall surrounding the terrorists' hideout. Checking carefully for surveillance cameras, they jumped down into the compound and scurried over to the bushes beneath a side window. Inside could be heard a pathetic meowing. "Shut dat monster up, Yerbouti--I'm watching 'Wheel of Fortune'!" said a thick Afrikaans voice. "That's Socks, Aunt Slappy!" Skippy said "Right--now be quiet and get up on the roof!" After the two made it to the roof, they spotted three pigeons roosting on an air vent. Slappy went over to them and rousted them awake. "Hey--Who--Wha?" the largest of the three said, startled. "What'dya do that for?" the shortest one asked. "Hey guys, it's a little old squirrel-lady," the third one said. "What'cha want, lady?" "I need you three to do me a favor," Slappy said. The short one glared at her. "Hey, lady, us Goodfeathers don't do favors for nobody," he said. "You got that right, Pesto," the tall one said. "Squit, tell her to get lost." "Aw come on, Bobby, she may need our help," Squit said. "Look, it's important," Slappy said impatiently. "Some terrorists are holding the President's cat hostage here, and we're sneaking in to rescue him. All we need from you three is a diversion. See that TV antenna? In ten minutes you all put it out of whack, okay?" "Well, if it's for Socks, okay," Bobby replied. "Squit, Pesto, do like what the lady says." Slappy and Skippy slipped down the air duct and arrived in upper floor of the embassy. The room's walls were plastered with anti-American posters in a dozen different languages. Guns and bomb-making equipment were scattered over the tables and chairs. "You know, Skippy, I'm going to enjoy this," Slappy said with a determined grin. "But Aunt Slappy, you can't pick a fight here--we could get into a lot of trouble!" Skippy said in a scared voice. "No more than you're in now, Amerikanski squirrel!" a thick Slavic voice said behind them. Turning around, the two squirrels saw Zunovbic, who had a Kalashnikov leveled on them. "Now raise your paws!" Slappy and Skippy did as the Yugoslavian terrorist said. "Say, chuckles," Slappy said casually, "When's the last time you cleaned that shooting iron?" "Why do you want to know?" Zunovbic asked suspiciously. Slappy stuck her head up to the gun and stared down its barrel. "Tsk, tsk," she clucked, "that looks filthy--you really need to clean it." "Aw, come on, Aunt Slappy," Skippy whispered. "Noone's dumb enough to fall for that old gag!" "Why, what's the matter with it?" Zunovbic asked, turning the gun around and staring down it. Predictably, it went off, blasting the terrorist into next Tuesday. "Hey, what'd you expect?" Slappy replied. "These are the same guys that gave us the Yugo!" Chapter Seven: The Mother of All Sight Gags ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After disposing of Zunovbic, Slappy and Skippy picked through the assorted instruments of destruction lying about. "Hmm...Semtex, C-4, some det cord..." Slappy mumbled to herself. "Ah, here we go. Hand me that grenade launcher, will you Skippy? And put those pipe bombs down!" "Why, what's wrong with them?" Skippy asked as he set them aside. "Think safety, kid," Slappy chided her nephew gently. "Never trust homemade explosives you didn't make yourself." Armed to the teeth, the two squirrels started to sneak downstairs. Seated in front of the TV in the embassy study was Kolonel Boorsteen, laughing insanely at Pat Sajak's jokes. Apparently the gunplay upstairs hadn't disturbed him. Yerbouti come in from the front hall,carrying a bound and gagged Socks. The Iraqi dumped the struggling cat onto the floor. "There, my leader, the wretched beast is silenced, as you have commanded. By the Prophet's beard, he was such a--" "Quiet, Yerbouti!" the Afrikaner barked. "I think I haff dis phrase vorked out!" As Vanna White started to turn the letter J, the TV picture went haywire. Boorsteen cursed. "Yerbouti! Go upstairs and see what's the matter!" he yelled. Slappy and Skippy squeezed behind the doors on either side as Yerbouti passed by on his way to the stairs, holding their breath till he was gone. "Okay, Skippy, here's the plan," Slappy whispered. "I'll follow our friend upstairs and take him out. You untie Socks and get him away from here. And keep your eye on the guy in the chair--anyone who thinks Pat Sajak's funny is dangerous--very dangerous!" "Right, Aunt Slappy!" Skippy said, and silently crept into the study towards Socks. Slappy tiptoed upstairs after the Iraqi terrorist. As he made it to the upstairs landing, she tapped him on the shoulder. Turning around, Yerbouti found himself face-to-face with General Norman Schwartzkopf. The Iraqi screamed, turned white as a sheet, and fainted dead away. "Well, that worked out better than I thought," Slappy said, removing her mask. ************** Kolonel Boorsteen got up and started fiddling with the TV set. Skippy gulped nervously, and continued to creep silently towards Socks. Finally he reached the cat and started to untie him. Unfortunately, once free the cat meowed loudly, "Well, I NEVER! The nerve of these people!" Too late, Skippy tried to regag him. "Shut up, you stupid cat!" he hissed. The Afrikaner turned to see what the noise was. Spotting the little squirrel, he drew the pistol at his side. "Vell, vell, it ist ein little squirrel, nein?" he asked with an evil grin. Leveling the sidearm at Skippy, he added, "Vat do you think you are doing, mein little furpiece?" Chapter Eight: Who Writes This Slop? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As Slappy was tying the the Iraqi terrorist up, she heard Skippy cry out. Rushing downstairs, she spotted Kolonel Boorsteen holding her nephew by the scruff of his neck. Poking the little squirrel with his pistol, he said, "Vell, kleiner squirrel, speak up! Who are you vorking for? Who sent you?" Skippy glared at the Afrikaner terrorist. "Name--Skippy. Rank-- Squirrel. Serial number--well if I had one, I wouldn't tell you!" he snapped. "Ve haff...vays...of making you talk," Boorsteen said with a lurid chuckle. "All right, that's enough!" Slappy shouted, storming into the room. "Kidnapping the President's cat I can understand. Threatening my nephew I can handle. But I draw the line at bad Gestapo impressions!" Boorsteen whirled around and started to aim at Slappy. The old squirrel leveled her grenade launcher at him, and said grimly, "I wouldn't try anything, Fritz--I've been fighting your kind since you were in lederhosen!" "So, this kleiner one ist ein relative of yours, nein?" Boorsteen said. "Very vell--go ahead and shoot. Just try and avoid hitting him," he added with a nasty laugh as he held Skippy out in front. Slappy's eyes turned red, and her finger started to inch towards the trigger. Skippy's eyes flew open wide. Suddenly Slappy tossed the grenade launcher aside. "All right, if you MUST be melodramatic about it," she said crossly. Rolling her eyes, she continued as if reading from a script, "You-win-this-time, you-fiend. Now-let-my-nephew-go." Boorsteen sat back down with Skippy tucked under his arm. "All in good time, mein old squirrel, all in good time," he gloated. "However, now it ist time for der customary 'sending der hero to his doom' scene." "Aren't you forgetting the customary 'explaining my fiendish plan to conquer the world' scene?" Slappy asked. "No, I just don't feel like doing it," Boorsteen replied with a yawn. "Now, if you will be so kind as to pay attention to that door," he added, pointing to a heavy steel-reinforced door at the back end of the study, "I will introduce you to your horrible fate." He pressed a button on the TV remote control, and the door flew open. A silvery shape moved within the shadowy doorway. "Allow me to present der finest creation of der South African arms industry--the Terminator B-000. It ist ein engine of total destruction!" he continued with growing excitement. "It ist der embodiment of all that has made our people strong! It ist der vehicle of our unstoppable triumph over you puny und decadent Americans!" "It's a giant chicken," Slappy said in disbelief. As Boorsteen laughed with fiendish glee, the enormous silver rooster strutted out of the shadows. Ruffling its metallic feathers, it looked about the room with a vacant, glassy-eyed stare. "Now, T-Boo Thousand," Boorsteen shouted, "Destroy the old grey squirrel!" Chapter Nine: Hasta La Vista, Baby! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Slappy backed away cautiously as the Terminator Boo Thousand focused on her and started to advance slowly. Carefully judging the range, she unsnapped her purse and clapped her hands. SLAP!! SLAP!! went the dreaded Slapper, whacking the T-Boo flat as a silver dollar. "Well, so much for your mechanical marvel," she said smugly to Kolonel Boorsteen. "Don't count your robots before they're smashed, old squirrel," the Afrikaner chuckled. "Vatch!" As Slappy watched in amazement, the flattened silver form began to ripple and flow back into its original form. It cackled and resumed its approach. As the metallic bird drew nearer, it thrust one wing forward, its pinfeathers formed into a razor-sharp sword. Slappy lept aside, seconds before becoming squirrel-kebab. She tumbled and rolled under the study's coffee table. With an enormous crash, the robot splintered the table with a single stroke of a newly formed wing-axe. "RUN, AUNT SLAPPY!" Skippy cried. The little squirrel struggled vainly to break free of Boorsteen's grasp. "Silence, kleine vermin!" Boorsteen hissed. "This is just getting interesting." Slappy dashed across the room as the silver bird finished trashing the coffee table. The robot turned and started back towards the old squirrel. Slappy reached into her purse, withdrew a small bomb and tossed it at the T-Boo Thousand. It exploded, leaving just a small dent in the bird's metallic surface. The robot paused for a second as the dent healed itself. Cursing, Slappy pulled out a larger bomb and tossed it. The effect was the same, only a larger dent and a two-second pause. Finally, she pulled out a bomb half the size of New Jersey and threw it. An enormous explosion rocked the room, but when the smoke cleared, the T-Boo Thousand was still standing, although torn and splintered. It rocked back and forth for a minute as it pulled itself together. It shook its head, and started back towards the squirrel, clucking ominously. "How the heck do I stop this thing, Skippy?" Slappy shouted desparately. As Boorsteen laughed, Skippy squirmed free from the Afrikaner's grasp. With a leap worthy of Bruce Lee, the little squirrel launched himself at the T-Boo Thousand. "SKIPPY, NO!" Slappy shouted as her nephew landed on the robot's head. He grabbed the rooster's metallic comb and began tugging. To his surprise, the silver came away in his hands like aluminum foil. Beneath it was feathers. "Vat?" Boorsteen asked, leaping up in amazement. "That really IST ein chicken?" The unfrocked rooster stared blankly, and with a loud "PU-CAW!" fled in terror. As Skippy jumped off, Slappy grabbed her grenade launcher and leveled it at Boorsteen. "Okay Skippy, untie Socks and let's blow this popsicle stand," she said calmly. Following Skippy and Socks, Slappy was almost to the front door when Yerbouti came dashing down the stairs and crashed into the study. Around his head, pecking at him savagely, were the Goodfeathers. "Accursed birds! Foul demons! Away with you!" the Iraqi yelled, waving his arms. Distracted, Slappy lowered her grenade launcher for a second. Kolonel Boorsteen drew and fired. At that same moment Squit flew into the line of fire. The bullet passed through the pigeon's wing, and deflected slightly, it struck the grenade launcher, knocking Slappy down and firing the grenade into the ceiling. A series of explosions were heard as it set off the pipe bombs upstairs. Chapter Ten: No Good Deed Ever Goes Unpunished ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As the ceiling started to collapse in flames, Slappy yelled, "Bobby, Pesto, Squit--Get outta here, NOW!" Squit fluttered to the ground. "MEDIC!" he yelled. Bobby and Pesto grabbed him and carried him out of the burning room. Slappy held the door open just long enough for the three to fly through, and then dashed out after them. Running across the street, she rejoined Skippy and Socks just as the embassy building collapsed in fiery rubble. Slappy turned to Squit, who was holding his wing. "That was very brave of you, Squit," she said. "Also very stupid. What were you three thinking of?" "Hey, lady, us Goodfeathers is as patriotic as the next!" Pesto barked at her. "You think you gonna save the country by yourself?" "It's okay, really, guys," Squit said. "Just got a few feathers ruffled, that's all. See?" He held up his wing. True to his word, the bullet had merely passed through his pinfeathers. "Carmin Miranda!" Bobby yelled. "You mean we nearly got toasted carrying you out and you weren't even hurt?" "But I thought I was--" Squit started. "You thought what--that we were some kind of ambulance service here to carry you off to the hospital everytime you get a hangnail?" Pesto yelled. "I'll show you 'Medic'!" With that, he leapt on Squit and started pounding the stuffing out of him. Slappy, Skippy, and Socks left the three pigeons to their little discussion. As they wandered back to towards the White House, Socks said, "Well, that was a DREADFUL experience! I don't know how I'm going be able to sleep tonight!" "You might start by thanking us," Skippy grumbled under his breath. As the three crossed Lafayette Park, from out of nowhere a small blonde girl rushed towards them. "Kitty!" she cried out, grabbing Socks and carrying him off. Before either of the two squirrels could react, they were bowled over by a large dog that was chasing the little girl through the park. Rushing across Pennsylvania Avenue, the girl was stopped short by Secret Service men. The dog wasn't so lucky--halfway across the street he was clobbered by a Park Police car. "Mindy!" a lady cried, rushing towards the little girl. "Hi lady!" Mindy said. Holding up Socks, she added, "Look--kitty!" "Wait a minute--that's Socks!" one of the Secret Service men said. "You're quite the little heroine, missy--the President's been worried about him all day!" The two squirrels watch as the President came out and shook Mindy's hand. Skippy shook his head. "You mean after all that, we don't even get a reward?" he asked sadly. Slappy sighed. "Yeah, well, that's how it goes sometimes. At least we know the country's safe for another day." ******************* Meanwhile, in a smoldering wreck of a building in northwest DC, three haggard figures stumbled to their feet. One shook his fist at the sky and hissed, "Someday, squirrel, someday--I vill haff mein REVENGE!!!" THE END