Here it is - my first fan fic! Any reviews, comments, critisism, questions, insults, compliments, etc etc very welcome. There's going to be several (four?) parts. All rated G, I think (I'm English, so I guess G=U?) OK, I'll just get on with it . . .
Disclaimer: They're not my characters, I'm just borrowing them for a bit . . . I'll put 'em back (fairly) undamaged when I've finished. And I'm not making any money from this.
Ginger watched the two rats from behind a rock. What're they doing here, she thought, I told them to get lost.
"So, where's our eggs?" said the Boss rat. Nick, isn't it?
"'Sh! Keep your voice down, OK?"
Ginger could've sworn that was Rocky speaking. She poked her beak around the side of the stone. It is Rocky.
"Someone might hear you," Rocky looked around, nervously. Ginger ducked back down behind the stone.
"You promised us ten eggs for all that electronic stuff we got you," said Nick.
"Ten! I said five."
He promised them all the eggs he laid in a month. But . . .
"You said five, then double if we kept it secret."
"Yeah," said the smaller rat - Fetcher. "And we did. That Ginger believed everything we said. As if we didn't know only roosters lay eggs."
"Hens. Only hens lay eggs," said Nick.
"Uh, yeah. I knew that."
Ginger listened in disbelief. Why, that . . . that lousy, good-for-nothing, stuck-up Yank! He promised them our eggs.
"Alright, guys, I'll have the eggs soon. Real soon," said Rocky.
"Tomorrow." Nick's tone held no room for negotiation, but Rocky tried anyway.
"That's impossible! Look - maybe I could get you two, three eggs tomorrow."
Nick snorted. "We want half tomorrow, half on Saturday."
"I told you . ."
"Or do you think Ginger would like to know that you've been lying to her?"
"No! Don't tell Ginger . . ."
Ginger stifled a laugh. He sounds scared. And so he should be . . .
" . . . I'll get you the eggs, OK?" Rocky turned and walked away, leaving the rats chuckling behind him. Ginger followed him, at a distance, keeping behind a line of trees. Rocky, you are very, very lucky that the circus can't reach us on this island. Otherwise you'd be back in that cannon right now.
Rocky stopped suddenly. "Hey!" he said, aloud, "tomorrow is Saturday." He turned around, and Ginger did too. The rats had gone.
Rocky continued walking, still talking to himself. "Maybe I could get some eggs off Ginger - yeah, she wouldn't miss an egg or two. Or three."
Oh, wouldn't I? I am going to punch your beak right through the back of your grinning head. No, wait, let me think of something nasty . . .
"And Babs," Rocky continued, "She'd give me her eggs if I admire her knitting a little."
Low-down, double-crossing, chauvanistic . . . Ginger was running out of insults.
Rocky turned a corner, around a tree, and Ginger couldn't follow him anymore without being seen.
Watch out, Rocky. Watch out.
"Ah, but Gingah!" Mac said, "I canna believe that Rocky would do such a thing."
"He promised them eggs . . . I heard them before, when we were still on the farm . . ."
"Aye?" Mac tucked her notebook under her arm. "Then . . ."
"He - Rocky - told me he'd promised to give them all the eggs he laid in a month." Ginger sat down on a tree root.
"Gingah - rooster's don't lay eggs."
"I'm not stupid!" Ginger snapped.
Mac looked hurt. "I wasn't saying you were, now, was I?"
"Sorry. But the rats - Nick and Fetcher - believed him. Well, I thought they did - I thought he'd fooled them." Ginger sighed, and rested her beak in her hands. "Turns out the only one he fooled was me."
Mac wiped her glasses - it was beginning to rain - and blinked through them at Ginger. "Maybe we should go see Fowler . . . we canna let Rocky get away with it."
"Hmm? What's that?" Fowler said, with his knack of coming along just at the wrong bit of a conversation. "You need my advice, young Ginger?"
Ginger explained what she'd overheard.
"Stealing eggs, what?"
"Well - it's not like they're valuable to us now." Why are you defending him? her mind shouted at her. You like him! Don't forget - he would've stolen your eggs, back on the farm. And then you'd be in a chicken pie right now. "Should never have trusted those Americans, eh? Cowardly Yanks! I gave him a medal for bravery, don't you know? And the bunk as well." "What should we do?" Ginger asked. How about we beat him up? Yeah, we could take it in turns. One hen holds him, the rest hit him . . . . . . and you'd get to do the holding, then? Shut up. Shut up now. "A court martial," said Fowler. "In the RAF, traitors were court martialled. Ah yes, those were the days . . ." "Aye, that's good," said Mac. Ginger nodded. "Fowler - can you organise it?" "I should say so! Why, in my day . . ." "Great. You get busy, uh, organising. I have to talk to Mac." "Right-oh," said Fowler, and walked off. "Aye?" "Mac, I need your help . . ." Ginger whispered her idea to Mac. Mac chuckled. "Gingah, that's a bonny wee plan!" (To be continued) OK, that's it for now, folks! Any suggestions for the court martial would be very, very welcome (as I have no idea what's going to happen next :P . . .). And ideas for what Ginger's going to do to Rocky . . . uh, bearing in mind this is a G rated story. ;) Please, please review this if you liked it. (And say why.) Please, please, please review it if you hated it. (And say why.) Thank you for reading!