Rescue Ranger HQ, New York

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick. A pair of light blue eyes followed the second hand on a worn Mickey Mouse watch mounted on the wall unwaveringly, as if the rest of the world didn't exist. The owner of said eyes, blinked, wrinkled her nose, and pushed a metal contraption that could have passed for tasteless modern art to the back of the table at which she sat, knocking off a hammer in the process. She watched the tool's downward path end in a dull thunk, aimlessly stared at it for a second or two, then brought her gaze back up to the clock.

One twenty seven am and counting, another night down the drain and nothing to show for it except catching Monty in his cheese patterned pajamas and a new hole in the wall. What might have been taken as a scowl temporarily graced the girl's face. I wonder where I put that black paint? Scratch that. I should patch that hole first, the clock hands can wait.

The young mouse sighed, placed her chin in her hand, and caught a few loose strands of her gold hair with her fingers. Hmm, why is it so coarse? Oh yeah, wall painting with Tammy. I should probably watch, er, wash it, or maybe I should just go to bed. I can't even remember the last time I fell asleep before midnight.

A loud bang, some roars, and a high pitched yelp echoed down the hall. Gadget turned her large eyes towards the door, smiled and shook her head. Gracefully she hopped off her stool and headed out of the workshop, turning in the direction of the front room.

Then again, with Dale currently watching Friday the Thirteenth, who could sleep? She thought, trailing her fingers along the wall, coming to a stop right behind the blue circular couch in the main room.

Gadget tapped a brown lump on the sofa, which let out a terrified shriek, leaped an inch in the air and fell back down with a dull thud. Big chocolate brown eyes peered anxiously over the edge of the cushion, then immediately relaxed into warmer tones, followed by the rest of the body slumping in relief.

A sweet, goofy grin spread the length of the chipmunk's face. "Ooo, Gadget I wish you wouldn't do that." Dale's eyes narrowed in suspicion, darting from side to side. "I keep thinking that crazy lady is behind me, watching my every move, just waiting for the perfect moment to –arrggghhhh!" He imitated being stabbed, and threw himself backwards on the sofa, letting his body go limp.

Gadget took on a surprised, slightly vague air. "Gee, I'm sorry, Dale." How could a human fit in here? And one couldn't possibly stab him, their knives are too big, he'd be- Her eyes dilated in horror just as the bunk-bed murder scene flashed on screen.

Dale sat up, leaning on the back of the seat, on seeing Gadget's expression he smiled reassuringly. "Aw, don't worry Gadget, it's only a movie. It's all fake. Wanna watch the rest of it with me? After this, they're showing a Final Mutilation marathon, all sixteen! I can't wait; those Martians won't know what hit 'em." He turned his hand into the shape of a gun and made blasting noises, bringing her out of her reverie.

Gadget smiled warmly, causing Dale to grin wider and brighter. "No thanks, I'm up far too late as it is."

"Suit yourself, but you're gonna miss out on some first rate B-movie action," said Dale flipping back around to face the television.

"Now Dale, don't stay up all night watching every single one of those horror films, you need sleep too," Gadget said sternly. And so do I.

"I'll go to bed right after Final Mutilation One: The Curse of The Mummy From Mars, I promise." Dale got on his knees and assumed his most honest and mature "scouts honour" pose, complete with his right hand over his heart.

Gadget narrowed her eyes and smiled, nearly smirking. "Okay, but no more after that."

"Don't worry Gadget, scouts honour."

"All right, night Dale." She gave a small wave and headed back down the hall.

"Good thing they're showing The Mummy From Mars last," Dale happily mumbled to himself once Gadget had reached the hall entry way.

"What was that, Dale?" Gadget paused, leaning her head back in.

Surprised she heard him, he stuttered, "uh, I said goodnight to you to Gadget."

"Oh. Okay, night then," she smiled cheerfully, turning away. She stopped when she thought she heard Dale sigh, but continued on anyway, figuring it was probably the movie, or the wind -if there was any wind- or maybe she just thought she heard it. She had just reached her bedroom door when she gave up on mentally identifying the sound she heard, or at least thought she heard, when one last thought popped into her mind. Did I turn off the light in the workshop?

Chip knew he was going to give himself a headache, it never failed to give him one, but he just couldn't muster the will to stop grinding his teeth. He buried his head under his pillow and pressed his hands down as hard as he could in a vain attempt to block Dale's verbally acting out the ending for Final Mutilation Sixteen: The Black Planet.

He groaned dismally and shoved his fingers in his ears when he caught snippets of Dale doing a falsetto voice for the evil Queen Eleanora's dying words to the space pirate/humanitarian Flash Jamison. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Lose your voice. Let the T.V. explode. I don't care, just shut up.

Finally a 1980's techno song started up, marking the rolling of the credits and Dale's enthusiastic applause, which had a way of echoing off the walls if he clapped hard enough. Chip pulled his fingers out of his ears and snorted angrily. Enough is enough, I can't sleep with that idiot making so much noise.

Chip flung back the covers and marched out to the front room wearing a scowl, his dark eyes flashing. He stood behind Dale for a few minutes tapping his foot to see if the other chipmunk would turn around and acknowledge him, but the next movie started and all Chip got was a loud, "Woo-ooh! Final Mutilation Fifteen: Zombie Were-Pygmies From Pluto, ooh this is going to be great."

Chip cleared his throat with an audible, "ahem" and smiled painfully, his lips tightly pressed. Either he's ignoring me, or he's chewing those peanuts a little too hard. Catching sight of the obvious lack of a budget for the film his best friend was glued to, he sighed out of pity. What a dork.

"Dale!" He shouted in his companion's ear, who squealed and spun around all at once.

"Oh, hiya Chip." Dale grinned, then frowned. "What'ch ya doing up so late?"

Chip gave him a momentary blank look then hit him hard on the head. "You dummy, I'm awake because of you and your stupid films. Every time I get close to falling asleep all I hear is you acting out some silly character's lame lines."

Dale sprung up and thrust his finger in Chip's chest. "My movies are not stupid. They're better than your Sherlock Jones, Sureshuck Holmes, uh, Dick Tracey or whatever that stupid fake detective is that you like so much."

Chip batted Dale's finger away. "They are not. Those stories actually have real life value, the principles taught in them are the basics for good detective work."

"Detective-shemective, give me a good zombie movie and a bag of pop-corn."

Chip's eyes blazed. "Pop-corn?" He said sweetly. "I'll give you pop-corn." Picking up a bag of discarded un-popped and burnt kernels that Dale had since finished with, and brought it upside down over his head.

"Hey!" The Hawaiian shirt clad chipmunk shouted, ripping the bag off, and bunting his forehead against Chip's. "What'd you do that for?"

"Because you're being an idiot. Now, turn that junk off and get to bed." Chip pressed back, pointing to the monitor, but keeping his eye's locked with Dale's.

"I will not, that's good quality T.V. and I don't want to miss it."

"It's lousy T.V. and it's keeping me awake."

"You're keeping yourself up by arguing with me. If you're so tired then go back to bed, problem solved."

"No the problem is not solved because you'll still be out here watching these cheesy films, and I'll still lay in bed awake because you're too loud. Now turn it off."

Dale stomped his foot, and locked his arms. "No. Besides it's Saturday, you can sleep in."

Chip ground his teeth. "You moron, it's Thursday, 3am Thursday morning to be exact. We have to be up in four hours, or did you for get we promised to take Tammy and Bink for an early lunch?"

Dale huffed, and shoved Chip. "Don't make stuff up, that's next week."

"It's today stupid, and you're going to make Bink cry if you're passed out amongst all this garbage when she comes over."

"Quit filling my head with nonsense, it's next week I tell you." He slapped Chip's hand as he reached to grab him.

"No, it's not," Chip pushed him down. "And you fill your own head with enough nonsense, why would I add more?"

"Because you're jealous of my intellect," Dale said, laying propped up by his elbows.

"Ha!" Chip exclaimed, wearing a mocking smirk. "Yeah right, Bink could run rings around you and she's only three."

Dale narrowed his eyes. "Ooo, you take that back."

"Make me."

"Fine, I will." Dale flipped himself up, jumped, then pinned Chip to the floor. "Ha, who's the idiot now?"

Chip smiled. "You are." He kicked out and sent Dale flying over his head. Unfortunately for Chip, Dale had a death grip on his nightshirt and the two were sent rolling into a wall. Once on their feet the chipmunks stared each other down, throwing fast punches and even faster insults.

Had they stopped arguing for even a second, or bothered to technically breath between sentences, the slow steady sound of slippers on the wood floor would have reached their ears. As it was, they were oblivious when Gadget appeared out of the darkness blinking and rubbing her eyes in the glow of the screen.

"What's going on, guys?" She asked, tugging on her pink nightgown, her eyes semi-glossy and an azure-grey from sleep.

"Gadget." the boys said in surprise, immediately bringing their fight to a halt.

"Uh, Chip was-."

"Dale had-." They paused, met each other's gaze and started laughing shamefully.

The veil of sleep lifted some, and Gadget shot them an accusing look. "You two have been fighting again haven't you?" To which they nodded. "Go to bed, did you two forget Tammy and Bink are coming over around ten?"

Dale's eyes lit up in surprise. "Wait, you mean this isn't Saturday?"

Chip smacked his forehead and groaned. "You dummy, I told you it wasn't."

Dale glared at him from the corner of his eye. "Yeah, well for all I knew you could have been lying to get me to turn off the T.V." His tongue darting out for a quick raspberry at Chip.

"Cut it out, guys. Bed. Now." Why did they have to pick 3:30 in the morning to start a fight? Gadget sighed. Boys. She glared at them, then barked, "march!" pointing down the hall to their room. "You can clean up this mess later."

Dale shut the T.V. off and reluctantly followed Chip, both boys keeping his eyes to the floor out of embarrassment. Gadget kept behind them with a tired, moody grimace plastered on her usually gentle face. All three came to a halt outside the boy's bedroom.

"Um, goodnight Gadget. I'm sorry we woke you." Chip said, half through the doorway.

Dale nudged the ground with his foot. "Yeah, sorry."

Gadget stretched her arms toward the floor, and gave a small yawn. "Don't worry about it, just go to bed and save the fighting for daylight hours."

"Yes, Gadget," they said in unison.

"Night, guys."She said retreating a little further down the hall, disappearing into her own room.

Once her door shut, Chip turned on Dale in a harsh whisper. "You ding-dong, see the trouble you cause by staying up late?"

Dale balked. "Me?" He whispered back. "What about you? All your yelling woke up Gadget."

"My yelling? What about your yelling, you were louder than I was."

"I was not."

"Was too."

"Was not." Stressed Dale, exchanging his food stained shirt for his own oversized nightshirt.

"Yes you were." Chip snapped climbing back into bed. "Now shut up and go to sleep."

"I was not." Dale hissed, making sure to rock the beds as much as he could on his way up to the top bunk.

"Hey, stop that."

"Stop what?" Dale asked, wriggling on his mattress in an enthusiastic attempt to get comfortable.

"Stop making the beds shake."

"I stop making the beds shake? You stop making the beds shake." Dale snuggled up peacefully against his pillow.

Chip balled his hands and let out what sounded like a low growl. "I'm not shaking anything, you're just being stupid."

"Oh Chip? Could you please be quite, I'm trying to sleep." Dale said sweetly, rocking the bunk a little more.

Chip threw his hands up in tight fists, not bothering to whisper. "That's it."

"That's what?" Dale asked just as Chip's head appeared at the foot of his bunk.

"Either you stop your rocking, or I stop it for you."

Dale bounced up on all fours, placing his hands beside Chip's, and going eye to eye. "I already told you, I'm not doin' any rockin', it's in your head."

Chip sneered. "Why you . . .," was the last coherent thing said by either chipmunk. With his last two words trailing off into thin air, Chip pushed himself up and over the edge of Dale's bed, forcing the red nosed 'munk on his back.

What happened next would have required a video camera review set in slow motion to see. The boys kept pouncing, blocking, and talking so fast that eventually they moved off the top bunk completely and crashed to the ground. Pausing long enough to help each other up and check for any undue pains, their tails were soon engaged in an angry wag, and they were off. No sooner had they started when a pair of large tan hands pulled them apart.

"Here now, boys, what's the idea of startin' a fight in the middle of the bloomin' night. First ya wake up Gadget, now me. So how's about tellin' me why Hurricane Chippendale decided to hit this early in the mornin'?" The large mouse set the squabbling chipmunks on their feet.

"He started it!" Both 'munks slammed their foreheads together, each with a fist drawn back.

"Hey now, none of that." Monterey Jack slipped his hands between them and pushed them apart.

Chip threw an accusing finger at Dale. "He was keeping me wake with those late night movies of his."

Dale mimicked Chip. "He was being was being a bully and didn't ask nicely."

"Well you were shaking the beds and wouldn't stop."

"You were threatening me."

"You were being obnoxious."

"So were you."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too you big oaf."

"Cut it out." He hadn't yelled, but it was a sharp enough of deep rumble to freeze the boys in their tracks. "You two argue more than a pair of siamese twins I knew in Siam, and they never agreed on anything, not even to disagree. Made for more than a bit o' trouble when tryin' to go somewhere, 'course one of 'em didn' like me to begin with." Monterey let loose a hearty chuckle. "Now, how's about you two make friends and let me get back to sleep?"

Chip looked unsure. "Well, I suppose so. . ."

Dale grumbled. "Yeah, sure."

Monterey smiled. "Good ta hear. Well?" He added forcefully when nobody moved.

Chip rolled his eyes and held out his hand. "I'm sorry, Dale."

"I'm sorry, Chip." Dale took Chip's outstretched hand, and the two shook, both looking a little disgusted.

"Wonderful." The Australian slapped them each on the back, sending them into each other. "See you blokes in the mornin'. And remember to get to the table early, I'm makin' me famous cheese omelets for breakfast an' they go down bettah nice an' hot."

Watching Monterey's considerable form vanish into the dark from whence it came, Dale suddenly cocked his head to the side and elbowed Chip.

"Yeah, I know."

"Where do you suppose he got 'em?"

"No idea." Chip said as they both climbed back into bed.

"Hey, you don't suppose he night try to eat them?" Dale wondered, staring at the ceiling.

"I hope not."

Dale giggled. "It'd be pretty funny if he did try."

Chip grinned, his eyes on the door, but his mind on his large friend. "Yeah, it would. Let's just hope they don't make cheese patterned bedding to match."

Dale snorted, laughing. "Or depending how entertaining it is to watch him eat it, let's hope they do."

Chip turned on his side and chuckled into his pillow. "Night Dale."

Dale yawned loudly. "Yeah, night Chip."

Okay, I've finished up the start of this, and believe it or not I have an "episode" idea I'll be adding to this in due time (I have to write the rest of it first). For any and all over all up dates, look on my profile page. Thanks much, Anna.