DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, I don't own Chip or Dale
Chocolate Chip
Dear Diary,
When I woke up this morning, I never expected what this day would bring. International fame! Sure, I've been a Disney star for years, but ALWAYS with Dale. I don't think there's even one picture on the Internet of me without my red-nosed counterpart. And yet, we're presented as this dynamic duo, this dream team. Huh, yeah right!
I admit, the first few years in show biz were fine. In fact, they were great. It pains me to remember the days before Walt picked us up. There we were, two lonely bachelors, knocking about in the same two trees, in the same old parking lot, just three year old. Then, one day, a bright red sedan pulled up and parked right in front of Dale's tree. Of course, Dale took it as his chance to display his skills. He immediately jumped onto the car's hood and began juggling acorns. What a little show-off! But at the time, I was happy for him—we were best buddies, after all. I landed next to him and followed up with a little gymnastics routine. Walt loved it and, next thing we knew, we were riding shotgun in his car, on our way to a life of fame, fortune, and gourmet food—every young chipmunk's dream come true! Well, that's one way to look at it. In other words, it was all great until year five.
Ah, yes. Year five. Might as well be a cuss word. It was the year of our…fourth Christmas special, I believe. It was the twenty-eighth of November, and we were shooting in Mickey's house. The mouse in question was supposed to play a simple dude whose only joy every year was his Christmas tree. Poor sucker. Anyway, this guy, his wife (obviously, Minnie), and his stupid-gone-wild dog, Pluto (are we at all surprised?) are visited one chilly Christmas Eve by Goofy, a lonely Christmas tree peddler, who gives them this five million-feet-tall tree, pre-decorated (how convenient), in exchange for a bowl of stew. Some salesmen must be really desperate. So, Goofy leaves, fed and happy, and Mickey, Minnie, and Pluto hit the hay. Of course, Dale and I were going to play two chipmunks who get inside and have the night of their lives on the Christmas tree. In the morning, Mickey finds us, and thinks we're so cute, so he adopts us. Minnie agrees. Pluto doesn't even have a chance for rebuttal. Not a very brilliant plot, and I think the SPCA would've had some issues regarding the ending, but we were all pretty psyched.
Well, it was the third day of filming, and we were all on a coffee break. I was having a chat with Mickey over a couple lattes. Everyone was there, except Dale and Pluto. Then, we heard a crash from the living room. Turned out, Dale and Pluto had been playing a little too close to the tree. It had fallen, and Pluto said it was Dale's fault. I wasn't surprised. Mickey sued Dale for damage to his property, and walked out with that idiot dog. Minnie and I were willing to keep shooting, but Walt (that double-crosser) said that nobody would want to see just Chip or just Dale. They apparently wanted to see "Chip and Dale." End of shoot. That Christmas special was never aired. Whatever we managed to film remains in the Disney archives to this day.
From that day on, I only tolerated my unfortunate counterpart, nothing more. However, I still had to act like we were best buddies. I mean, we still had adjoining mansions in Hollywood, villas in Greece, limos, the works. We couldn't just drop the whole thing. Think of the bad publicity. The last thing I needed was a stampede of paparazzi at my doorstep. We were Hollywood megastars. And yet, my real break came today.
A guy from a chocolate bunny factory came by today asking for the rights to make a chocolate version of one of us in time for Easter. The guy wanted Dale, but ultimately decided against it because Dale had the signature red nose, and he didn't want to make a multi-colored replica. That left me! I was ecstatic when I signed the contract. Finally fame without Dale! So now, I'll be able to walk into Superstore and see ME everywhere! You can start calling me Chocolate Chip.
-Chocolate Chip
