The Babylon Rogues belong to SEGA. The Jolly Ollie Man and all other characters and elements of Hey Arnold belong to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon.

Jolly Ollie Man and Jet: Cheapskate

"WHAT'S the big idea!?" All heads shot towards a peculiar scene taking place in front of the Sunset Arms boardinghouse.

"Easy, Tweety Bird...$12 bucks and the bar's all yours."

"I ain't payin' that much just for a lousy ba' of ice cream!"

"Then I'm afraid it's 'a lousy ba' you ain't gettin'!"

Oh, the lengths at which that Jet's stubbornness could go...Wave massaged the "nose" of her beak due to the oncoming headache being provided by the fact that her own leader—'I can't believe I just called him that.'—was currently engaged in an argument with an ice cream vendor, of all people! Sure didn't help one bit that the neighborhood kids were starting to bundle up around the truck of frozen confections, no doubt interested by the verbal rumble taking place...

Storm, in the meantime, true to form, stood off dumbly to the side alongside the violet sparrow, completely at a loss at how to aid his boss in this "moment of crisis."

This time, Wave slapped a hand to her face. Idiocy knew no bounds whenever Storm and Jet were around. 'How did I end up with guys like these in the first place anyway?'

Regardless, the female avian, in a rare bout of patience, opted to talk some sense into her emerald counterpart first. "Jet, just forget it. We can go to Slausen's instead."

Much to Wave's utter irritation, Jet waved a hand in her face in total, dismissive disregard. He never took the vision of his blue eyes off of the taller, cantankerous ice-cream man. "Nah, ah! I'm getting that ba' of ice cream one way or anotha'!"

"And if the boss wants to stay out here 'til this chump gives 'im his ice cream," Storm bellowed out, sticking a thumb to his broad chest before crossing his arms, a dopily defiant frown on his beak, "then I'm stayin' too!"

Oh, the heck with it! These two knuckleheads were a lost cause! Besides, what would hold Wave back from leaving? Storm could play follower all the merry way to a heatstroke for all Wave cared, but this independent sparrow had more sense than the muscle-bound albatross (and Jet for that matter).

"Fine, have fun frying in the heat then, numbskulls!" And with those scalding words, Wave gestured her fingers off in a mock salute before walking off, not the least bit sorry about leaving her teammates behind. Neither Jet nor Storm paid any mind to her departure.

"So Tweety...what's it gonna be?" sneered the smug Jolly-Ollie Man. He made real certain to get in Jet's face—up-close and personal.

Then a change of the oddest sort happened. After a few seconds of gritting his beak, Jet suddenly relaxed for some reason, the tension in both his spine and jaw vanishing as simply as if the argument had never taken place. The Jolly-Ollie Man struggled between choosing to feel satisfied about the anthropomorphic bird's apparent acquiesce...or feel freaked out by the unnaturally calm grin on said bird's face. "You know somethin'? Forget about it!"

"Uh...boss?" Storm certainly couldn't qualify for being of average intelligence—both Wave and Jet could testify to that fact—but even he could realize the out-of-character quality his leader was demonstrating. Jet was never the type of Mobian to leave things standing down so easily.

Then, for reasons unfathomable still, the darkly grinning Jet waved a finger to the side, motioning Storm to bend so that the smaller avian could whisper in his ear.

The unease in the Jolly Ollie Man only increased upon seeing the expression of the anthropomorphic albatross shift from puzzled to understanding...to devilishly delighted. Especially when the gray avian cracked his knuckles slowly and ominously...

"H-hey, hey, hey wait, what's with that look?"

Everyone in Slausen's, Wave included, felt the tiled ground shudder from underneath their feet, the tremor sending a fair number of glasses tumbling to the floor where they shattered instantaneously upon impact.

Wave, the purple Mobian seated in one of the red-cushioned seats that jutted out from the wall, managed to steady her glass of chocolate milkshake just in time. She waited a few seconds in the same position as she continued clenching her glass, warily glancing from side to side in half-expectance of another shockwave.

'Somehow...I have a feeling I know exactly where that came from.'

But just to make sure, Wave turned in her seat to peer out of the giant, open window just behind her. Yep, sure enough, the swallow just barely make out a plume of black and gray smoke rising from within the distance.

Everyone else in the parlor either gawked in dumbstruck awe or panicked like beheaded chickens.

Wave only shook her head in knowing irritation; her intuition had been spot-on, after all...as usual.

"I am so not paying for the damages this time."

Remember kids: never stand in between a Babylon Rouge and ice cream.