-THREE-

Of Cookies, Snack Cakes, and Loofahs

"But who-?"

"Shh!"

"What's the-?"

"Tss!"

"How're we-?"

"Hush Verne! I'm trying to concentrate!" RJ was standing on the inquisitive turtle's back, trying to pick the lock to the Wilkinson's back door with a bent wire clothes hanger. After several failed attempts to get the raccoon to reveal certain details about the plan, Verne gave up and resigned to watching Hammy play with the Wilkinson's lawn décor.

The Wilkinson's yard looked very much like any other lot in the neighborhood. Its key features were a small swimming pool and a dog house belonging to their pet beagle, Banjo. Banjo wasn't a very aggressive dog, but Verne still felt uneasy about having the porcupine kids handle him. After all, he was several times their size. They were currently distracting the overweight beagle with a game of fetch, which both parties seemed to be enjoying immensely.

"Grah! Stupid…lock…thing…" RJ rattled the door knob impatiently. "Hand me a bobby pin, will you?"

Verne selected a small hair pin from the various items he was holding, and held it up to RJ's outstretched hand. RJ grabbed the pin and continued fiddling with the lock. Absorbed in his work, RJ involuntarily placed his foot on Verne's nose as he shifted positions.

"Ugh. Do you mind?" Verne grumbled in an irritated tone.

Click.

"Ha! Got it!" RJ turned the knob and pushed against the door, toppling over as the door swung open. RJ picked himself up off the floor and smoothed his fur, issuing orders to Verne. "Get Hammy and let the others know the game's on. I'm going in."

Verne signaled for the other animals to get in place. Ozzie and Heather snuck across the yard, avoiding detection from Banjo.

"Is everyone ready behind the shrub?" Verne asked of the two possums. They nodded. "Great. Then I'll get Hammy and…Hammy?"

Verne spotted Hammy scrambling around in a flower pot nearby.

"Pretty flowers! Do flowers sneeze? Hey, where do you keep your cookies? Ooh!" Hammy something up, sniffed it, gnawed on it, turned it over and licked it. "Mmm! Tastes shiny. It's mine! Nobody touch it! I found it first! You can't have it! It's mine!"

Verne rolled his eyes. "What is it now, Hammy?"

The squirrel ran up to Verne and held up a small metallic object. "Oh joy, the key to the house."

Hammy held it tightly to his chest. "I get to keep it, right? Huh? Huh? Do I? DO I?"

"Sure, why not. It's not like we can inconvenience the humans any further, right?"

Verne's sarcasm was lost on the hyperactive squirrel, who squealed with glee and began to hop and skip about as he followed the exasperated turtle into the house.

"Good luck!" Heather called after them.

"Thanks," Verne replied. "We'll need it."

The two animals found themselves in the Wilkinson's kitchen. The kitchen looked similar to all the other kitchens in Suburbia, blending granite counter tops and marble flooring with stainless steel appliances and wooden cabinets. An attractive crystalline vase brimming with vibrant irises, tulips, snapdragons, and Peruvian lilies rested on top of the counter.

RJ was sitting in the refrigerator, tossing selected food items into a pile on the floor and checking off his list with a crayon. He stopped his routine to glance over his shoulder. "Oh good! The cavalry's arrived. Help take this stuff out to the others."

RJ carelessly tossed a bag of chocolate chip cookies over his shoulder. Hammy dropped his key and dove for the cookies, catching them the moment they left RJ's fingers. Hammy proceeded to smother the cookies with affection. "So… chocolate-y..."

"Yup," RJ said, examining a container of whipped cream. "Take them to Heather and she'll make sure it gets back to the log."

Hammy obeyed reluctantly, parting tearfully with his cookies at the door. "Goodbye, chocolate chip cookies! Don't let the squids eat you," he whispered. He watched Heather carry his prized possession away until she disappeared into the hedge.

Verne walked up to the door and placed his load down. He cast a worried glance at Banjo and the kids. They seemed to be doing a good job of keeping the beagle's attention. But what if Banjo noticed the opossums carrying the—Verne froze. Banjo had spotted Ozzie and was making a beeline straight for him. Ozzie stopped in his tracks and fell over 'dead.' The beagle began to sniff the possum. Please don't bark. Please don't bark. For the love of all that is good, please don't bark. Banjo stopped sniffing and resumed playing with the porcupines. Verne released his held breath.

"My nerves can't take this anymore," Verne informed RJ. "Why'd you have to pick a house with a dog?"

RJ crawled down from the fridge shelf and shut the door. "It was the only house with everything on this list and a loofah. Which, by the way, should be in the bathroom down the hall and to the left."

"Okay, but did you have to use the kids to distract the dog? Why not someone older and more experienced, like Ozzie or Stella? Why not you? Why is it you always seem to give the dangerous tasks to someone else?"

"Verne, Verne, Verne. You're worrying about nothing again!"

"Nothing? Those kids-"

"—Are perfect for the job. Cute, fun, energetic, and plenty of spines to protect them from harm. Plus, they're kids! Everybody knows beagles warm up to kids faster than anyone else. Besides, I don't have spines, a shell, super-charged toots, warp speed, or amazing theatrics to protect me if Banjo decided that I'd make a good snack. I'm the last person I'd pick for the job for a good reason."

Verne was silent. He felt his anger and anxiety surge within him. Millions of questions, retorts, and worries raced through his mind. He felt like yelling everything that was wrong with RJ's plan. He wanted to throttle RJ, to force him to be more careful about endangering the lives of his family members. For a second, Verne felt like he was dealing with the old RJ, the RJ in his re-occurring nightmares. The selfish, manipulating RJ that cared nothing about anyone but himself. The RJ who would hurt his family.

But then Verne remembered. Stella had said that families have to trust each other. That, if given the chance, RJ would come through for them like he had before. Verne ignored his tingling tail. He ignored the bad dreams, all the worst-case scenarios in his head. He fought to ignore RJ's past mistakes and all the flashing red lights. Verne couldn't bring himself to trust RJ yet, but he trusted Stella and her wisdom. Breathing deeply, then exhaling softly, Verne mumbled, "I'm going to go get the loofah."

"You do that," RJ replied distractedly as he climbed up the counter. "Hey Hambone," he called to Hammy, who was still gazing forlornly after his cookies. "Ozzie said something about the Wilkinsons keeping a lot of food in their pantry. Want to check for cookies?" Instantly the squirrel perked up and dashed around the room, searching frantically. "Pantry's that way," RJ instructed, pointing to a closet across the room.

As Verne searched the bathroom, he tried to keep himself from worrying by keeping an optimistic mindset. But the little pessimistic turtle was not well versed in the art of positive thinking, and so he found himself thinking two negative thoughts for every positive one.

Come on Verne, get a grip. We've only done this a thousand times. We come in, take what we need, and get away safely like we always do. Well, almost always… Verne found the loofah bath brush lying on the side of the bath tub. He picked it up and examined it. Oh, very nice. It even has a wooden handle to reach the hard-to-get places. And it's only been lightly used…oh gross; it still has hairs on it. As Verne picked the hairs off his new bath sponge, he began to wonder what time it was. How long have we been here? What if the humans get back before we're done? Verne didn't like the thought.

He quickened his pace as he left the bathroom and made for the kitchen. In the kitchen, he found RJ had climbed up to the cabinets and was searching through them zealously. Whatever he was looking for he must have thought important, because he had thrown down his clipboard and all the contents of the looked-through cabinets.

"RJ," Verne said uncomfortably. "I think we should be going soon."

"Huh? Oh. Okay, we'll go as soon as I find where they hid the Twinkies."

Verne shifted uneasily, trying to remain composed. "Um… so did we get everything else on the list?"

"Uh huh," RJ mumbled inattentively.

"That's good," Verne said. What am I saying? We need to go! "So, do you think you'll be ready anytime soon?"

RJ groaned in annoyance. "Look, see that circle thing hanging on the wall with all the numbers? It's called a clock. It dictates when people do certain things. See how there's a small arrow and a long arrow? They've got some kind of code with those arrows and numbers. When the long arrow points at the '12' and the little arrow points at the '3', the humans know to come back. As long as it's not pointing like that, we're safe."

Verne studied the 'clock'. He didn't quite understand all that RJ had said—and for all he knew, he could have been lying—but the small arrow looked awfully close to the 3, and the long arrow looked very close to the 12.

"It looks awfully close to the code that makes them come home," Verne said worriedly. If RJ had heard him, he must have chosen to ignore him. "Hammy, finish up, we need to go now!" Verne called to the squirrel. He heard a muffled, "Okay!" "RJ, I know you really like Twinkies and all, but we can always come back. For now, we have everything else that we need, so let's go." RJ still didn't respond.

"Come on, RJ! We need to leave!" Verne called desperately. He was beginning to lose his patience.

"Okay, okay, just let me find the box of Twinkies and we'll go!"

"No, we don't have time for your stupid Twinkies. Get down here and let's GO!"

"Hey, if you get your loofah, I get my Twinkies."

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE LOOFAH, I'M CONCERNED ABOUT THE SAFETY OF MY FAMILY!" Verne flung his loofah to prove his point, and it went flying through the air…straight towards RJ. Verne watched with horror as the wooden handle struck the back of RJ's head with a "THWAK!" causing the raccoon to lose his balance. His arms flailed for a few seconds, then he fell off the cabinet, smacking into the granite counter top before hitting the floor.

Verne stared at the raccoon lying face down on the floor, unsure of what to do or say. "RJ?"

RJ didn't budge. Letting the pain subside for a few moments, he slowly picked himself off the floor, grimacing as he rubbed the back of his head. "So," RJ snarled. "Am I not considered family?"

Verne didn't answer.

"Let me guess. You're edgy because you're getting bad vibes from your tail. So you trust your back end more than me?"

Verne recovered from his shock and snapped back, "Well, it was right when you were using us to pay your debt! I don't see why it couldn't be right now."

"Oh, I see," RJ said, throwing his hands into the air. "So you expect me to run off any minute now with all the food, leaving you all helpless for some selfish motive. It all makes sense now! Poor Verne was right all along about bad RJ! He was right to disregard his own words about families trusting each other, because that sneaky, slimy RJ just couldn't be trusted!"

"RJ, it's not that I don't trust you," Verne retaliated, slightly hurt. "It's just that you've never had any family other than yourself, so I can't just assume you-"

"Assume what? That I won't just walk out on ya'll? That's nice Verne. Real nice."

"Hey, you weren't above that before. What's to keep you from doing it again?"

That remark hit a nerve. RJ lost it and lunged at the turtle, pinning him down on his back and glaring at him murderously. "Care to say that to my face, Moldboy?"

Verne lay stunned for a few seconds, then retorted venomously, "Yeah, sure, and while I'm at it, I might as well add that you are the most selfish, conceited jerk that I have ever met in my life." Verne thrust all his might into his short legs and kicked RJ off, sending the raccoon sliding across the floor and into the kitchen counter. Verne stood up and continued releasing his pent-up anger. "All you care about is food and entertainment. You spend your whole day watching, listening to, and eating junk. And when you're not doing nothing, you're busy planning some mission a la impossible to attain more junk we can all live without! Why can't you see how wrong it is to risk all our lives for your cravings?"

"You know, Verne," RJ said, getting to his feet. "It's funny you say that. You claim that I use our family to get what I want, but you do the exact same thing. That term you used, "selfish, conceited jerk"- it fits you perfectly. If something's not going your way, you use concern for the family's safety as an excuse to not do something. If you really are concerned for everyones well-being, why not take a few calculated risks to improve their quality of life? I'll tell you why. Because you're a selfish, conceited jerk who thinks his knowledge and cautiousness automatically makes him and his decisions superior to everyone else."

Verne realized RJ had backed him into a corner, both physically and verbally. He lashed out defensively. RJ dodged the attack and struck Verne's nose, causing the turtle to yelp. Clutching his nose with one hand, Verne balled the other fist and swung at RJ's head. The blow caught RJ under the chin, giving Verne a chance to deal a solid punch to his opponent's stomach. As RJ reeled over in pain, Verne caught sight of Hammy, who was staring at them wide-eyed from a distance. Verne had forgotten about the little squirrel, and he began to regret it as he watched Hammy stutter, "S-stop," with a trembling lower lip. Great. I know I said some things that weren't Hammy-safe.

But before Verne could say anything, RJ was upon him again, catching him off-guard. The turtle quickly hid inside his shell, but not before receiving a scratch on his nose. Verne winced as RJ cursed loudly, wishing Hammy wasn't nearby.

"Verne, get your ass out of there before I make you!"

"I'd like to see you try, moron. Now watch your language. Hammy's close by."

RJ clawed furiously at the shell. "Easy for you to say, ya frickin' weenie!" But RJ stopped clawing, and silence followed. Verne peeked out of his shell.

RJ was still holding Verne up by his shell, but he was looking over his shoulder at Hammy. Hammy was standing in the middle of the kitchen, his glassy eyes wide open and his paws clutched tightly. "P-please, s-stop," he whispered feebly, his voice nothing more than a squeak. Verne and RJ just stared at the little squirrel, each feeling guilty that, once again, Hammy was the one hurt because of their dispute. But before either could say anything, a scream from the backyard pierced the silence, followed by a shrieked "My baby!" and a loud baying from Banjo.

"Crud," RJ muttered, dropping Verne. All three of the animals made a dash for the door.

"If anyone's hurt because of your stupid plan, I'm going to personally kill you," Verne shouted above the din at RJ.

"Please," RJ hollered back. "Then write on my tombstone, 'Here lies RJ, who finally found peace from a certain constantly nagging turtle.'"

The three arrived at the door and looked out.

RJ quickly assessed the situation. One of the porcupine kids had fallen into the pool and was struggling to stay afloat. Lou and Stella were trying to reach Quillo by extending a pool noodle for him to grab onto, while others were throwing anything that they could find that could float into the pool. Banjo bayed loudly in the background, and Penny was crying "Oh jeepers! Oh jeepers!" over and over again.

"It's not reaching him! We need something longer!" Stella shouted over the noise.

"We don't have anything else!"

"What about the hose?"

"Give me that thing!"

Stella grabbed the hose and swung the end over her head to fling out to the middle of the pool. But it was too late; Quillo had gone under.

RJ felt his heart skip a beat. No. RJ jumped down from the doorstep and ran out to the pool, then taking a deep breath, he plunged in.

The pandemonium above disappeared in the dead silence of the water. Bubbles swirled around RJ as chlorine burned his eyes and frigid water soaked his fur. Recovering from momentary shock, RJ's electric blue eyes darted around in search of the little porcupine. He found him sinking slowly, and swam towards him using short, quick strokes with his arms and legs. Stay with it, little buddy. RJ caught the little porcupine, wincing as Quillo's spikes pricked his skin. Pulling Quillo over his shoulder, he pushed off the bottom and paddled hard, striving to carry Quillo's extra weight. He could feel his lungs bursting, and released the last of his held breath in a cloud of bubbles. Just a little further…

Bursting through the surface, RJ gasped the air and felt it fill his lungs. He reached for a pool floatie and threw Quillo over it, then started to paddle towards the pool's edge. As he neared the edge, he lifted Quillo to his mother's outstretched arms.

Penny received her son, choking on her tears, and handed him to his father. Lou carefully placed his son on the pavement and began to push water out of his lungs. The hedgies gathered around with baited breath as water drained from Quillo's mouth. Suddenly, Quillo began to cough. Lou stepped back as Quillo spat out pool water.

"D-dad?" Quillo mumbled feebly, eyelids fluttering.

"I'm here son."

There was a collective sighing of relief. Penny wiped away a tear and embraced her son with a smile. Quillo's brothers followed suite.

"Don't EVER do that again," Bucky chided.

"Yeah, you scared me to death!" Spike added. The three porcupines giggled as Ozzie grasped his chest and fainted.

"What happened?" Verne asked, still trying to put two and two together.

The hedgies looked at each other. Heather spoke up. "Bucky, Spike, and Quillo were, like, distracting Banjo and all, and then Banjo saw the rest of us, and things went totally crazy, and then Quillo, like, fell into the pool!"

"Is he okay?" RJ called from the poolside, wringing water from his tail.

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Verne answered angrily. Unaware of what had happened in the house, everyone minus RJ and Hammy stared at Verne in confusion.

"—the hell?" RJ replied defensively. "I didn't see you jumping in to save him."

The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife.

"Excuse me? Whose brilliant plan put him in that situation in the first place, jacka-?"

"Guys," Stella cut in sharply. "I don't know what yo problem is, but you'd better get over it NOW. We're still in the Wilkinson's yard, an' they're bound to be here soon."

As in if to affirm her words, a car could be heard pulling into the Wilkinson's driveway. Like clockwork, everyone looked to RJ for orders. RJ had only one word for them.

"Run!"

Quick note to readers- I'll post updates for this story on my profile page from here on out.