My apologies for the delay - this was a tricky chapter to get right! Not only did I have to fine-tune Pinky and the Brain's plan to take over the world, I had a song parody to write. In this new installment, we're checking in on the two bad mice again as they hit the road to Las Vegas. Will luck be a lady for them? Read on and find out!

Author note: For anyone who loves musicals, you'll love this chapter. The song in Pinky and the Brain's Vegas show is a parody of "Mame" from Jerry Herman's Broadway musical - give it a listen on YouTube if you've never heard it! (In the song, italics are the chorus girls, plain text is Pinky, bold font is the Brain, and underlined font is the lead chorus girl Carmela.)

Also, happy 30th anniversary to Animaniacs! I would like to dedicate this and the next two chapters to Tom Ruegger and his wonderful team of writers for creating these crazy characters, and especially to Rob Paulsen, Jess Harnell, Tress MacNeille, and Maurice LaMarche for bringing them to life. Thank you, thank you, thank you for 30 years of laughter, joy, and goodnight, everybodys!

Monumental blunder with the New York Times notwithstanding, the Y2K campaign of Pinky and the Brain was gaining steam. Following the correction of the ad error, calls for speaking engagements began to pour in, and now the mice were booked on a tour across the country. Their kickoff had been at Dodgers Stadium to great success – by the time Brain had finished his speech, the crowd was roaring with applause and cheers. Thankfully, Pinky had managed to get back into Brain's good graces by creating a newsletter for the inevitable fan club – which did indeed spring up after their first event – and sending it to their newfound subscribers. Brain wouldn't have gone so far as to call them "fans," but he did have to admit, it felt rather exhilarating to have so many admirers.

A week after their tour began, the mice had covered the major cities in California and had crossed the state line to Nevada. While Carson City was the state capital, it wasn't the setting for their first stop in the Silver State. No, they were going to make a splash on their first stop, go big or go home – and what better city to do just that than Las Vegas? True, the place was called "Sin City" for a myriad of reasons… and if Brain was being perfectly honest, he was indulging in a few on the Seven Deadliest list: greed for certain, walking the fine line of pride, and lust, but not in the carnal sense. His lust belonged to the world he so longed to conquer.

"Egad, Brain! It's so beautiful! Look at all the lights!"

Brain glanced at his partner, who was perched on the dashboard of their rented car, face glued to the windshield. Brain himself had to concentrate on maneuvering the mechanical extended arms and legs that allowed him to safely operate the pedals and steering wheel from the stack of Pacific Bells in the driver's seat. "If I don't concentrate on the road, the only lights we'll be looking at are red and blue. And I don't particularly want our world domination tour to end at the police station." Brain slowed to let some pedestrians hustle across the crowded strip – on their way to one of the plethora of casinos, no doubt. "You watch the pretty lights. I'm busy watching the road."

Pinky continued to gawk at the gaudy, yet admittedly dazzling, nightscape of the Las Vegas strip. "Narf, we're gonna have so much fun! I can't wait to play one of those whatchama-whosits where you match three pictures and win a prize."

"Pinky, put your tongue back in your mouth. We did not come here to waste our money gambling, be it the slot machines, roulette, or shooting craps."

Pinky cast Brain a puzzled look. "What's the loo ever done to you?"

Brain rolled his eyes. "If you had another brain cell, it would be lonely." They continued on for a few minutes, Pinky's exclamations over this, that, and the other thing grinding on Brain's nerves. Finally, they pulled into the parking lot of their destination: the iconic Desert Inn.

"At last, the Desert Inn," Brain said with relish as they exited the car. "We were fortunate to book both an engagement and a suite here. Not only is this hotel famous for its shows and performances, it was restored to splendor by Howard Hughes, whose wealth I can only dream of nearing."

"Ooh, are you going to start wearing Kleenex boxes on your feet and eating banana nut ice cream all the time?"

"No, Pinky. Quite frankly, that sounds like something you would do." Brain paused. "Although, if we do indeed reach Hughes' level of wealth, your behavior would be deemed eccentric instead of asinine."

"Why? What's the difference, Brain?"

"Money. If you're rich and insane, you're a celebrated eccentric. If you're poor and insane, you pay rent at Bellevue. Now, let's go in and get settled. We have a show tomorrow night."

The mice entered the spacious lobby and strode up to the reception desk. Brain cleared his throat and the pretty blonde behind the desk peered over at them, craning her neck over the surface to see them. "Good evening. I have a reservation for tonight and tomorrow under Brainard Hughes." He whispered to Pinky, "I thought the alias was apropos."

The concierge nodded. "Yes sir, we've been expecting you. If you don't mind my saying, I thought you'd be taller."

The remark didn't faze Brain. He was more than used to comments about his diminutive stature. "Actually, I am a lab mouse seeking world domination."

The concierge laughed. "That's funny! A sense of humor and a sexy voice. I like that in a man."

So she thought his voice was sexy, did she? She wasn't entirely unintelligent. His ego nicely stroked, Brain smiled at the woman. "You flatter me, my dear. If it's not too much trouble, may I ask for access to the Crystal Room? We have an event scheduled for tomorrow night and we will need to get up early."

"Consider it done. And while you're here, please feel free to check out our other amenities. We have a full casino and a swimming pool that's still open." She typed in a few things on her computer and turned back, presenting them with card keys. "Your room keys, Mr. Hughes. If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to call the front desk. Ask for Catherine."

Brain handed one card to Pinky and gave her another smile. "I shall keep that in mind. Thank you for your excellent service, Catherine," he said, pouring on the mellifluous tones. She blushed and waved at him as they departed for their suite, promising to have their luggage sent up.

"She seems nice, Brain," Pinky said. "I think she likes you."

"Yes, she is nice. Nice and easily persuaded. As long as I employ a little charm, I'll have her eating out of the palm of my hand for our stay." They stopped in front of the elevator and Brain scratched his chin at the out-of-reach Up button. He smiled as a plan formulated in his mind. "Pinky, how would you like to fly?"

Pinky jumped up and down in excitement. "Zort! I'd love to!"

"Good, then come here. Put your foot in my hands," Brain said, lacing his fingers and holding his cupped hands down on the floor. As soon as Pinky set his foot in his friend's palms, Brain said "Have a nice flight" and hurled him toward the Up button. Screeching like a strangled blue jay, Pinky hit the button with a loud smack and fell back to the marble floor. Thankfully, the impact was enough to activate the button, summoning the elevator.

"Uhh…" Pinky groaned, stumbling as he got to his feet. "Fly the friendly skies! Narf!"

The doors slid open and Brain entered, guiding Pinky. "I'm glad you're so enthusiastic about this, because you're about to go off into the wild blue yonder again."

The closing doors didn't muffle another screech and smack, nor did they drown out a smug Brain saying "Thank you for flying Air Dingus."

Ahh, I could get used to this, Brain thought, patting his mouth with a corner of his napkin. The suite, while not palatial (they couldn't afford the penthouse yet, for heaven's sake), was tastefully elegant, overlooking the patio and the still-open pool. Useful, if he ever needed to chuck Pinky out the window. Once they were settled, Brain ordered room service, allowing himself to indulge just a little. Filet mignon with rosemary-roasted potatoes and a fresh salad, a little on the pricey side but oh, so worth it. Pinky, on the other hand, was perfectly happy to order one thing only: cheese soufflé. Granted, it was soufflé made with gruyere and asiago (which consequently stunk up the room), but it was still a basic soufflé. And he was enjoying it a little… too much, if the noises he was making were any indication at all.

"Pinky, can you please stop? Or at least take your soufflé into the bedroom if you're going to make that kind of racket?"

Pinky pulled his head out of the soufflé dish. "Oh, it's so yummy, Brain! We never eat anything this lovely at the lab!"

"Don't get used to it. Once we're back on the road, it's Ritz crackers and that disgusting spray cheese for you." Brain's eyes widened as he watched Pinky polish off the remainder of the soufflé. "Good Lord. How can you eat all of that and not gain an ounce?"

"Just lucky, I guess." Pinky licked his fingers and let out another blissful sigh. "So good."

Brain reached for the straw that led to his massive goblet and sipped strongly. The champagne tickled his nose and relieved the headache he felt coming on. Thank you, God, for creating alcohol as a tonic of idiocy. "One would think you were indulging in the shadier side of Las Vegas."

"Brain, it's nighttime. Every side of Vegas is shady right now."

Brain quirked an eyebrow. "Surprisingly astute of you, Pinky. You are correct in both the literal and metaphorical senses."

"I can't wait 'til tomorrow, though. I wanna see a lion fight at Caesar's Palace!"

"Welcome back, my friend," Brain said dryly. "Perhaps it might do you some good to get out of the room for a while." And out of my fur before I get an ulcer.

Pinky's face lit up. "You mean it, Brain? I can go play some games?"

"Yes, as long as you don't make a complete fool of yourself, though Aquinas never had such faith in his fellow man." Brain reached into the pouch containing their bankroll and fished out a twenty-dollar bill. "Here. We can risk you throwing away this much on a soulless cash grab."

Pinky took the money with an ear-to-ear grin. "Narf! Thanks, Brain!"

"You're welcome. Now go, but stay in the hotel. I don't want to wake up and find out you're in Lake Tahoe with a showgirl or some such foolishness."

"Oh Brain, don't be silly! You know I can't drive a Chevrolet!" Oblivious as usual, Pinky skipped out of the suite, singing to himself.

Brain clapped a hand to his forehead, the champagne sounding more appealing by the minute. "Note to self: throw Pinky into the pool later," he muttered, gathering up his notes for the next day's event.

Pinky ended up staying out for hours – by midnight, he was still absent. Brain was grateful for the respite, as it enabled him to review his speech, organize his blueprint for the stage, and visit the Crystal Room to begin setups for the show. He was infinitely impressed with the room's opulence: plush carpeting, beautifully set tables, and numerous sparkling chandeliers that gave the room its name. A perfect setting for a future ruler, if he did say so himself. And Catherine, his admirer at the front desk, had been most helpful in assisting him with choosing the menu items, as this was to be a dinner show. She also promised to have a word with the bartender about keeping the champagne flowing. People were easier to persuade when they were "on the sauce," to use the vernacular. Although, he did give her instructions to keep any kind of liquor away from Pinky. His partner was ditzy enough without any kind of chemical inducement.

Speak of the devil-slash-ditz, where was Pinky, anyway? More likely than not, he was still in the casino fooling around with the slots, but Brain wouldn't put it past him to do something stupid. One could give Pinky money and he would come back with a bag of magic beans. With this thought in mind, Brain eventually drifted off to sleep, and was soon thinking he couldn't catch a break even in the realm of Morpheus. He dreamt that he and Pinky were climbing that cursed beanstalk to find the bag of gold – or in this case, a golden globe (not the Oscar knockoff handed out by Hollywood, thank you). However, as per the fairy tale, the giant soon appeared, but he wasn't the only one. Two more giants appeared and the three of them chased the mice all over, making ghoulish faces and causing all kinds of racket. Footsteps were pounding, explosions were going off, and Pinky was screaming…

"Brain! Wake up, Brain! Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey!"

Now the giants were pounding him, beating him black and blue… wait. Consciousness set in, and Brain became very aware that he was being pounded, but not by a giant. Correction, it was a giant – a giant pain in the gluteus maximus. Pinky was jumping up and down on him, hollering at him to wake up. "Pinky, stop jumping on me, you bumbling blockhead!" Brain aimed a kick at his partner, and the skinny mouse went flying butt-over-teakettle across the bed. Brain rubbed his eyes and glanced at the glaring red numbers on the bedside clock. "Pinky, it's 2:30 in the morning. You had better make you reason for waking me up exceptionally good, or I'm going to drop-kick you from here to Reno."

Pinky sat up, still all smiles despite the footprint in his fur. "I won, Brain! I won!"

"Fine, you won. Now let me go back to sleep in peace." Suddenly, it hit him, and Brain shot upright once more. "What do you mean, you won? What could you have possibly won?"

"I hit the jackpot, Brain! I played the slot machine and I got three lemons! It was the narfiest thing ever!"

Brain felt like he'd stepped into a parallel universe. Pinky, the mouse who buttered his feet and was engaged to a horse, had won playing the slots. "How much did you win?"

"Someone said fifty grand, but fifty grand what? Can't be pianos; I didn't see any downstairs…"

Brain's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Fifty thousand dollars? You won fifty thousand dollars?" he all but bellowed in disbelief, grasping Pinky by the shoulders.

"Is that it? Troz, that's lucky! I was wondering how we'd get fifty grand pianos back to the lab," said Pinky in relief. "Isn't that lucky, Brain?"

"Dumb luck, but the best luck possible nonetheless," Brain said, holding a hand to his heart. "Pinky, do you realize what this means? We now have the funding to complete mass production on our coins, and we can now fortify the lab so no one interrupts our New Year's Eve broadcast!"

"Narf, that's brilliant! I thought it meant we were filthy, stinking rich."

"Yes, that too." Brain shook his head. "Pinky, sometimes you amaze me. How can I thank you for this incredible good fortune?"

Pinky grinned and held out his arms. "Gimme a hug, Brain!"

Brain winced, regretting the question. Not only did he have an aversion to affectionate displays, Pinky had the grip of a python. He wasn't exactly in the mood to have his internal organs fly out of his ears. "Wouldn't you rather have a nice cheese basket instead?"

"No, silly! Give your best mate a squeeze!" Pinky laughed, seizing Brain in a back-breaking hug.

Brain coughed. "Pinky… can't breathe," he choked. He wanted to whack Pinky in the head, but his arms were pinned at his sides. "Let go… you dunce!" Pinky finally unwound his grip and Brain inhaled deeply.

"Feel better, Brain?" Pinky asked with a cock of his head.

"Infinitely." Brain breathed in a few more times until he was sure he had his wind back. "Dare I ask where your winnings are?"

"Oh, that nice chap at the tables said he'd have someone bring it up. He said he didn't usually leave the tables 'cause he had to watch them, but he'd get one of his guys to do it."

"You caught the attention of the pit boss? And he's having a croupier bring it up? You really did garner some attention," Brain said as a knock came at the door. "Speak of the devil." He hopped off the bed and trotted to the door. Thankfully, there was a chair nearby, which Brain clambered up onto and pulled the door open. Sure enough, there stood a tuxedoed croupier bearing a suitcase. "This must be my roommate's winnings," Brain said. "Please bring it in and set it on the table."

"Yes, sir." The croupier did as he was bidden and gave Brain a smile. "Your roommate's a lucky fella. Some guys just have all the luck, huh?"

Brain smiled wryly. If all the luck meant dumb luck, than Pinky certainly had it in spades. "Just call him Diamond Jim Pinky," he said, tipping the man a ten-spot. After the croupier returned to the casino, Brain unlatched the suitcase to reveal the bunches of cold, hard cash within. "Oh, yes," he groaned in delight, rubbing his hands together. "With these funds at our fingertips, we can make our engagements truly extraordinary." He looked at Pinky, who had scrambled up onto the table to join him. "Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

"I think so, Brain, but why doesn't anyone ever take that left turn at Albuquerque?"

"No, Pinky, although that is a valid question. I'm thinking that we need to give our audience a show they'll never forget. In California, it doesn't take much to snare a person's attention, but in Las Vegas, audiences expect glamor and theatrics. We need to give our campaign some Vegas flair."

Pinky clapped his hands in glee. "Ooh, fun-fun! We can wear those sequin jackets and sing about our plan for New Year's! I can be Pink Sinatra and you can be Brain Newton!"

Brain closed his eyes. Not for all the money in Las Vegas. "Pinky, come here. I think you need to cool off."

Las Vegas was treated to Pinky's impression of a banshee as the skinny mouse was hurled out the open window, where he hit the pool's waters with a substantial splash. Upon hearing the rewarding sound, Brain headed back to bed with a self-satisfied grin, his migraine feeling better already.

The following evening, the stage in the Crystal Room was shrouded in curtains while people milled in, chattering animatedly all the while. From a slit in the curtain folds, Brain could see that the room was verging on fully booked, which was excellent to see. Dinner would be served soon and the waitstaff were already popping corks and filling flutes with champagne. They would have a few minutes to enjoy their meals and then it would be showtime. Behind the curtain, their retinue waited. Pinky's winnings had allowed them to hire a group of stunning showgirls for the performance. If it worked for Frank Sinatra, it was good enough for the Brain, and the genius didn't mind being in the company of so many glamorous ladies… if only they would pay attention to him and not his partner.

From the get-go, the ladies fawned over Pinky, petting him, feeding him cheese from the tray backstage, and cooing about his appearance. If Brain heard one more comment about Pinky's "sweet little ears," he was going to vomit. Oh well, at least Catherine thought he was sexy…

"Olá."

Brain looked up to see one of the ladies looking down at him. She was a beauty, a gorgeous Brazilian woman with dark hair and pale green eyes. "Hello," he said, meeting her jade gaze. "Which one are you?"

"Carmela. I know my friends have been fussing over your little friend, but I thought you could use a little pick-me-up. Anyone with a voice like yours shouldn't be ignored," she said with a ruby smile.

Well, well, Brain thought with a smile. Another smart lady. "I must say, Carmela, you're a lady of infinite taste, and beauty to match. Have you been following my plan to lead us through the new millennium, should disaster arise?"

"I have, and I think you're wonderful to give us so much hope. I can't wait to hear your speech." Carmela bent to kiss the top of his head. "Boa sorte!"

Brain blushed, a smile spreading over his face. "Luck be a lady tonight," he murmured, returning Carmela's wave as she got into position with her fellow showgirls. "Places, everyone!" he called. "And Pinky, get your tail out of your ears; it's not a Q-tip."

Pinky, who had been yanking his tail in and out of his ears, let it spring out with a bounce. "Ready, Brain!"

"Don't embarrass me," Brain ordered, right before the announcer began his introduction.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Desert Inn hotel in Las Vegas is proud to present the cultural phenomenon, the Y2K sensation, Citizen Brain!"

The curtains flew open to thunderous applause, and Brain's heart swelled with joy. This was the due he'd been hoping for, the laud that befit a future ruler. "Thank you! Thank you very much! Welcome, citizens of Las Vegas. I am Citizen Brain, and I am infinitely pleased to share my plans for the upcoming millennium – including how to avoid a potential disaster."

"Hello, Las Vegas! Narf!"

Brain cringed. "Speaking of potential disasters, this is my partner, Pinky," he said, waving a hand at the skinny mouse, who was bouncing out onto the stage.

Pinky beamed at the crowd. "Love, luck, and lollipops! We're gonna have so much fun! And Brain's gonna tell you all about how we're gonna stop the Y2K bug! Uh, Brain? Is it a flying bug or a creepy-crawly bug?"

Brain cut his eyes at Pinky. "Pinky, do me and everyone else a favor. Lie down before you hurt yourself."

"Right-o!" Pinky lay down on the stage and curled up, sucking his thumb.

Brain gazed at his partner with an eyebrow quirked. "I wasn't speaking literally, but that also works." He returned his attention to the audience, all of whom were going aww at Pinky. "I'm glad you find him amusing. What I have for you is even more thrilling. The video, if you please?"

A screen lowered behind Brain, and a video began to play, carefully edited to portray the worst the world could expect if the Y2K hysteria proved true. Computers crashing, rampant cyber-attacks, fires and rioting in the streets… he dared Michael Bay to do better. "You've heard a great deal of rumors and gossip about the upcoming millennium. Most prominently, you've seen news features about a worldwide cyber-attack: crashing computers, internal chronometers resetting to the Stone Age, even vicious computer viruses that will steal your closely-guarded personal information. Consequently, this will make it impossible for you to maintain your living or even your good name, which is sorely needed in a world thrown into chaos. And what will happen if it gets to this state? Tell me!" Brain held his hands out to the audience, signaling them to shout suggestions – and shout they did.

"Our bank accounts could be drained!"

"Our livelihoods will be destroyed!"

"Homes lost!"

"Our kids will starve!"

"Our government won't know what to do!"

"Oh please, that'll be nothing new!"

Brain choked back a laugh at that last remark, shouted by a rather daring smart-aleck in the back. "Yes!" he cried, unable to stop himself. "That is why I have been developing an antivirus for our systems." He raised a floppy disk next to him on the podium. "On these disks, there is a strong antivirus protection program that will prevent any form of virus or hack from entering a personal computer or corporate system. I hold the prototype in my hand and will send copies to each of you who have registered for our newsletter, so if you haven't signed up, do it! You won't want to miss out on your chance to be protected in a time of strife. You won't find this anywhere else," he said, mentally kicking himself for sounding less like a promising leader and more like a squawking TV adman. "Install this on New Year's Eve. I will be administering a broadcast to all of you beginning at 11:45 on December 31, with instructions on how to proceed, and to ensure your information is safeguarded." Only he knew the program was useless, just official-looking technobabble. The true power would be in their coins. "After all, I have your best interests at heart! Will you stand idly by while some hood in the darkest recesses of cyberspace steals your identity?"

"No!" was the enthusiastic answer.

"Do you want the prosperity you enjoy to continue into the new millennium?"

"Yes!"

"Do you want to know if the Hokey Pokey really is what it's all about?"

Brain twitched, grinding his teeth. Apparently, Pinky had awoken from his slumber. His mind, per usual, was still in a coma. "Forgive my partner. He was dropped on his head as an infant – several times." He made the throat-slitting motion to Pinky, who snapped his mouth shut. "As I was saying, do you want to see the world continue under the hand of one who knows its heartbeat?"

"Yes!" the crowd roared.

"Then join us as we make this millennium unforgettable! We'll save the world together!" Brain shouted, pumping a fist in the air.

His enthusiasm was met with thunderous approval. The audience leapt to their feet, clapping like a horde of frenzied seals and shrieking their acclaim. Although Brain wasn't the biggest fan of anyone screaming like a banshee (Pinky was bad enough, thank you), his heart kicked into overdrive knowing that those joyous noises were for him. They believed him. They'd taken the bait on the hook, fallen for the lines, and now would come the sinker. "Thank you! Thank you, you're too kind! And in true Las Vegas fashion, on with the show!" He swept an arm toward the spotlit stage right, where the glamorous showgirls were parading out in all their sequined, bejeweled glory. They lined up, beamed at the hollering crowd, and began the song that sang their future ruler's praises.

You are the one this world will adore, Brain

No leader like you's been here before, Brain

You're like the second coming

You're gonna get us all through Y2K

You'll get this country humming

From old New York to San Francisco Bay

You're our next US President pick, Brain

I'll be the first to not be a –

Shh! Brain!

Whoever thought a lab mouse would

Take a worldwide panic by the reins?

You've given us some hope again

People are using soap again! (Shut up, Pinky!)

You'll make this world so dope again, Brain!

You're bringing narfiness into style, Brain

No one but you could get me so riled

Oh, Brain!

From LA to Manhattan

We'll conquer Y2K through song and speech!

Let's sing in fun pig Latin!

I'd choke you, but you're too far out of reach

You've got great leadership in your blood, Brain

And such a handsome face, what a stud! Brain

You'll put our minds at ease soon

And save us all from royal stress and strain

You're giving us blue skies again

It's cool to be pint-sized again

Your help is ill-advised again

Well, let me rise and state my case

You've brought charisma back to the place

There's now a good reason to take in the hype, Brain

Well, let me yell it out to the skies

You're gonna deserve a Nobel Prize

For curing the world of its Y2K gripes, Brain

A plan we will levy –

Egad, that sounds heavy!

To save the whole world that's in shock

We'll all begin healing –

Have fun! Hit the ceiling!

I swear, you're as dumb as a rock!

Show tunes we'll be singing

Your ears will be ringing

If you try to screw up my plan!

He'll be the year 2000's Superman!

You've brought Las Vegas back into glitz, Brain

You'll keep this world from calling it quits, Brain

I'll come, I'll see, I'll conquer

And everyone will bow before my name

You'll be just oh-so-narfable

Don't make this act look farcical!

Your rule will be remarkable, Brain!

The singing and dancing, even with Pinky's nonsense, paid off. The audience roared in delight, chanting Brain's name and showing applause and acclaim. Brain beamed, his chest swelling with pride and joy. They bought it and they love me! Sinatra, I doubt you could have done better. After thanking the crowd and advising them of their upcoming tour dates in Reno and Lake Tahoe, the curtain closed and Brain congratulated his entourage. "Spectacular! Well done, everyone!"

"Even me, Brain?" Pinky asked, bobbing on the balls of his feet.

"Yes, even you, Pinky," Brain admitted begrudgingly. "I must say, I think the audience rather enjoyed your idiosyncrasies."

"Ooh, the Olympics have a medal for that now!"

Brain rolled his eyes. "Why do I even bother?"

"Because you're brilliant, that's why," Carmela said, scooping him up in her hands and kissing his cranium. "You can perform with me anytime, Old Pink Eyes."

Two kisses in one night from this beautiful woman? Brain was beginning to feel just a little punch-drunk on the attention. "I'll hold you to that, my dear," he said, the promise coming out as more of a purr. Carmela smiled at him and waved as she left for her dressing room, while Brain, blushing to the tips of his ears, cried out "YES!" When I take control of the world, I'll need a queen…

"Yes, you were wonderful, sugar!"

All of the warm and sappy feelings drained from Brain's body at the sound of an all-too-familiar Southern drawl. How did she get backstage? It was his one obsessed "fan," the crazy redhead who had followed them on all of their California shows. Well and good, but Brain really didn't need her stalking them all the way across the continental United States. He had to figure out a way to get rid of her, and fast. "What a surprise," he said, allowing a hint of sarcasm to seep through. "I remember you from Los Angeles, San Francisco, and San Diego. And Sacramento. And Napa Valley."

The redhead laughed. "My word, you must think I'm a stalker!"

"The thought never crossed my mind," Brain said, even though his conscience hissed threats of going to hell for lying. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Oh, no. I just wanted to say what a wonderful job you did tonight. You're a true inspiration to us all, and so kind. Not everyone would care so much about the well-being of the entire world and be so generous with their time and… other resources," she said, a downright avaricious gleam in her eyes.

Uh-huh. I have a sneaking suspicion that this woman has dug all of the gold in California and now she's mining Nevada. I may have some avarice of my own, but I am not that stupid, Brain thought. No way was he going to mention Pinky's good luck at the slots. How am I going to get rid of her without making a scene? Oh, that might work, but do I dare? No, it should be fine. It's highly unlikely she'll know how it works. "It's funny you should mention resources," he said, turning to a nearby pouch and feeling around inside it. "Since you're so devoted to our cause, I have a little present for you." His hand landed on the object he sought and he pulled out one of the prototype coins he and Pinky had minted – the coins that would activate mind control on New Year's Eve. "You're the first to receive one of our commemorative coins," he said, handing it over to her. "Congratulations."

She took the coin as though it were a diamond. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Brain! I'll be on pins and needles waiting for New Year's Eve!"

"Isn't that a lovely thought," Brain deadpanned, fighting a smile at the thought of her literally becoming a human pincushion. "If you'll excuse me, I have to retire for the night, but I do appreciate your support, Mrs.…"

"Bennett, Jodi Bennett," she answered, twiddling him a wave as she left. "I'll see you later, darlin'!"

Brain shuddered. "Right. When we go ice skating with the devil," he muttered under his breath.

"Who was that, Brain?" asked Pinky, who had arrived just in time to see Jodi leave.

"A Southern-fried stalker. Pray she doesn't follow us all the way across the country." Brain gestured for Pinky to follow him and the mice departed the stage. "I gave her one of our prototype coins. Hopefully that will keep her at bay for a while."

A frown mark puckered Pinky's brow. "Uh, Brain… if you gave her one of your mind-control thingamajigs, aren't you afraid she'll mess it up? Y'know, kinda like how you told me not to touch any of them?"

"That's different, Pinky. When it comes to self-inflicted disaster, your track record is worse than Wile E. Coyote's. This woman won't have the first clue how to use it until New Year's, and judging from the look of her, I doubt anyone in her circle is smart enough to figure it out. We have nothing to worry about," Brain said confidently.

Pinky opened his mouth to object, but shut it for fear of getting bopped. Brain was probably right, but he couldn't shake the funny feeling that was settling into his tummy at the idea his friend could be wrong…