The Chipmunk

In a hole in the ground lived a chipmunk.

You weren't expecting that, now, were you?

Ahem.

Hundreds of feet off the ground, on top of a metal plate, and another thirty feet above the plate; in a small, homey apartment, with cushioning over the metal bits to make it livable to sensitive tastes; lived a certain master sergeant in charge of relaying and undertaking orders and tasks from an incompetent, yet overly nice captain to two mischievous and unwieldy corporals who needed a second run through basic to make them remember certain facts of life.

You still think you know this story?

Anyhow, it was not an overly cushy place, nor a steely uncomfortable place. Although this was a master sergeant's quarters, which typically meant the latter; this one in particular took queues from a book of zen decoration techniques, as lent by one of the aforementioned corporals.

You do remember the chipmunk?

Good.

So one dark and dreamy evening, said master sergeant was sleeping in the aforementioned master sergeant's quarters. The chipmunk – clever little bugger that he was – arrived an hour early. Unable to wait longer than absolutely, positively necessary, the rodent woke the sergeant in the only way a critter can wake a heavily sleeping man.

That's right; it worked wonders, too.

"We need your help," the chipmunk explained, "There's no time to lose!"

Clutching his hand, freshly decorated by two bloody bite marks, the sergeant considered the credibility of the situation.

It came back as not very plausible, which meant caution was a must.

"What do you mean?" the man asked, causing the chipmunk the roll its eyes in exasperation.

"I said what I mean, now come on!"

The little animal scampered off the bed and across the floor. A hop, skip, and a jump later, it was sitting at the door, waiting expectantly.

"Hurry! We're in trouble, for the love of all that's holy, hurry up!"

The chittering went on like that until, groomed and vaguely awake, the sergeant finally remembered why he was at such an hour. At which point, he offered a hand, followed by a shoulder, before taking the casual morning stroll.

"So what's the trouble, Shorty?" he asked, "And where are we going?"

"Turn left here," came the reply, "We need to go to my village – we're under attack from a vicious monster!"

Instead of wondering the obvious, the sergeant wondered if chipmunks ever came in lower pitches.

After a long journey, thirty feet down, below the metal plate, hundreds of feet down, and two meters to the left, they arrived at the entrance to the Chipmunk Village.

Considering the entrance was a hole in the ground, he wondered how he was supposed to help.

"We're losing time here!" the rodent chirped impatiently, running down his back and scurrying through the void, "There are more important things to think about! It's not that hard, just come on through!"

So the sergeant did. It proved surprisingly easier than he previously imagined.

After some time of creeping through a network of burrows, they came to an even bigger network with even bigger burrows. It came as a slight relief after all that crouched crawling.

Alas, there was no time to stop and gawk at the here-odd wonders of the underworld, and at last they arrived in the biggest burrow of them all, where many a chipmunk were waiting for them.

"At last!"

That… was probably the leader of the chipmunks. Or at least, that's what the man assumed. He didn't have much of a basis for the assumption – it was the same as any of the others – but there was no basis to assume otherwise, either.

Then he realized the boastful little windbag was still talking; it all made sense.

"… and the guide and the stars…"

At which point he decided to cut it short. So he cleared his throat, earning a scornful look, and interrupted in the bluntest, though sembla-politest way possible.

"What, exactly, did you folks need me here for?"

The 'leader chipmunk' glared as intimidating as a five-inch-tall creature could, but it was a second that explained, "It all was foretold in the great prophecy!"

Something about that was off by just a tic… especially on account of the hush that followed.

"Really? Can I see this prophecy?"

The chipmunk leader and its aide chittered nervously amid themselves, finally turning to yet address the man, "No, we think you better not."

Not to be trifled with, the man responded dually, "Well I think you better had."

And it went on like this, until the chipmunks realized that they were losing time and it would be better to fess up.

"There is no prophecy. We just thought you'd be more willing to help us if there was, so we made it up."

An uneasy silence followed.

"Well then, will you help us?"

The sergeant considered the request. On the one hand, he would be proving them right; on the other, they did lie to him… Then again….

"Since I'm already down here," the man reasoned, "What do I have to do?"

It was settled. He, guided by Shorty, would find and drive back the monster that had been assaulting the chipmunks for months. They set off under the cover of much fanfare.

The monster turned out to be the most vicious mammal to ever walk the earth. That's right – the monster plaguing the chipmunk nation was none other than a badger… and not just any old badger, but the meanest badger ever.

Incidentally, it much resembled the badger that the sergeant had once beheld at the zoo. Funny story, that.

An intensive battle followed, the likes of which the world has never seen before.

In the way of all prophesied battles – be they truth or falsified – the hero won, driving the mighty, snarling beast back into its den, to sleep for another season.

There was much rejoicing.

That was the easy part. The hard part was getting back the two meters to the right, up the hundreds of feet, over the metal plate, and the final fifty feet back to his bed. And sleep.

The next day, the sergeant came across his two corporals and his captain, and related the strange incident as veracity. After equal parts concern, causticity, and a good, old fashioned laughing their asses off, his mates suggested the end all solution to all things: a hardy vacation.

The End

Working Title: The Chipmunk

Inspiration: ... Quite a bit, apparently.

Noteworthy: "An unholy mix of The Hobbit, Journey to the Bright Kingdom, and Final Fantasy." And I stand by that statement.

Disambiguation: ... You're kidding.

Commemoration: Three years of fic-writing. Glee!

Derivative work of material © Square Pictures, Squaresoft. Reformatted to abide by 'site standards. None of the original text has been modified, 'cept in case of typo.