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The Rescue Rangers and the
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This story takes place in near-episode format for the most part. The authors are sure the readers will be able to find the exceptions, and the fun ;-)
Spring found the Rangers surrounded by the happy
sounds of new life blossoming all around them. The birds were singing, the
squirrels were out chasing each other, and the people walking through Central
Park had a song in their hearts. Gadget was humming one herself when she came
out of her workshop.
“Golly, what a great day! Sure beats the cold of winter. Maybe I’ll do some inventing outside today. What do you say, guys? Feel like a day in a park?”
Chip had just finished up watching the morning news
reports, along with Monty and Zipper. No sign of crime so far, and any
opportunity to be with Gadget spurred his interest. “Sure! Let’s do it.”
“Too roight!” Monty said. “We’ve been cooped up in
here too long as it is.”
Zipper buzzed his agreement, then a blood-curdling scream shook them
all out of their contentment. The Rangers ran to the room Chip and Dale shared,
for the voice they heard was distinctly Dale’s. When they opened the door, Dale
was sitting on the edge of the bed, his teeth chattering in fear.
“Dale, are you all right?” Gadget asked.
“Crikey, lad! You look like you just saw a ghost
cat! An’ I should know,” Monty said. Dale hadn’t expected such a reception, and
seemed embarrassed at the attention. “I’m okay, just a little bad dream. No..no
reason to fear that my hands would act of their own accord and strangle me in
my sleep.” Chip knew something was up. He climbed the ladder on the pretense of
checking on Dale, then looked under his pillow. “Ah, hah! ‘Evil Blood-Sucking
Vampires from Space’. I knew it! Dale, when are you going to stop reading this
stuff?”
Dale crossed his arms defiantly. “There’s nothing
wrong with a little blood-curdling horror, Chip!” Gadget’s eyelids narrowed.
“That’s not what Zipper told me, Dale. He said you put a bucket of water on top
of your door the last time and it drenched him when he came in!” Zipper buzzed
in the affirmative.
“Well, I need something to keep myself interested
when we’re not doing cases,” Dale said, defensively. “If you don’t like my horror stuff, what do you want me to
read?” Monty started counting on his fingers. “Anything that don’t involve
vampires, werewolves, mummies, mutant creatures, zombies, mind-controllin’
robots, witch doctors, mad scientists...”
Chip snapped his fingers. “Hey, I know! Why not replace
your reading habit with something else that’s fun, but good. You like
television, and I’m sure there must be a decent show or two that would keep
your interest. Why not try it?” Dale looked at his old friend dubiously. “Well,
okay. I consider myself a literary man first and foremost, but I’ll give
this...television thing a try.”
“Come on, then. We’ll help you pick something out,”
Gadget said.
The Rangers sat down with Dale on the sofa in the main room, searching
through show after show, but nothing seemed to satisfy the ned-nosed munk. Chip
was about ready to give up when they switched to RerunLand.
Hannibal Smith was on the screen, grinning. “I love
it when a plan comes together!” Instantly, Dale’s interest shot up. “A-Team!!!
I pity the foo’ who don’t like the A-Team!” Monty gave a thumbs-up.
“Sounds like we got a winner here. Gotta admit, they’re a bonzer bunch!”
“True,” Gadget said, “and I do like how they invent
things in every episode. I wonder how they keep finding spare parts and armor
plating wherever they go?” Chip waived off the question. “It’s just part of the
plotline, Gadget. Dale, we’re going out into the park. Will you be okay here?”
“Sure! This’ll get my mind off my hands trying to
kill me in my sleep—I hope.”
The Rangers left for the park, and Dale started
getting engrossed in the derring-do of the A-Team. RerunLand showed two more
episodes, so that by the time they returned Dale was thoroughly into the show.
He bounded up to Chip, ready to share.
“Well now, you look like you had a good time,” Chip
said, pleased with the success of his suggestion. “You got that right, sucka!”
Dale said. “I’m gonna get me a glass of milk and watch more!”
Gadget smiled, watching Dale head into the kitchen.
“Great idea, Chip.” Monty patted Chip on the back. “You got that right, pally.
I think we’ve finally weaned ol’ Dale off those horror comics fer good.”
And so it seemed to be. Every day that week, Dale
would eagerly look forward to seeing the A-Team and just as eagerly share the
day’s episodes with the other Rangers. Then the weekend came, and RerunLand had
an A-Team marathon. Dale was ecstatic. Despite his normal sleeping tendencies,
he got up at 5 a.m. to see the first one. Unfortunately, he tripped and fell
from the ladder, thudding on the floor and waking Chip
“What...what’s that?” Chip asked, half-awake. “Is
there a crime going on?” Dale rubbed his arm where he’d fallen on it. “Don’t
worry, Chip. I’m just getting ready for some important stuff. Go back to sleep and keep dreaming about
Gadget.”
“Hey, I don’t dream about Gadget—well, not all the
time,” Chip was about to lie down again when one word caught his interest. “Important?
Is there a staff meeting I don’t know about?” Dale adjusted his nightcap. “Only
if you want to find out if Decker catches the A-Team.” Chip had been attentive
up to that point, but then fell back into bed. “Oh, it’s just that. Go
on, then, but keep it down. It’s our day off, you know.”
Dale was already starting to get into A-Team mode.
“Well, you never know when some person in need will show up, then we’ll have to
spend the afternoon busting Murdock out of the asylum!” Chip nodded, yawning.
“Right...Murdock...asylum...”
Chip was snoring within a minute, and Dale quietly
but quickly headed for the tube. He watched the A-Team from dawn until dusk and
on into the night. The Rangers were patient, since they’d suggested this.
Still, they were beginning to figure out that Dale was starting to obsess. A
clear sign came when Gadget sat next to Dale at the start of the marathon’s
fourteenth hour.
“Say Dale, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you come help
me in my workshop?”
Dale was torn by conflicting feelings—the idea of
being with Gadget versus finding out if the A-Team would somehow manage to
escape from the burning building. “Uh, okay, Gadget. I’ve already seen this episode.” Gadget smiled appreciatively and
took his hand as they started heading for her workshop. They’d almost gotten
there when a giant explosion brought Dale’s attention back to the screen. It
was B.A., driving an armor-plated vehicle with Face on the top, brandishing a
machine gun. Dale ran back to the sofa. “Oh man! That was amazing! It’s like
when you built that armored whatchamadoodle and rescued us from the Cola Cult!”
Gadget sighed, knowing it was no use. “Yeah, amazing.”
Gadget veered off from her workshop and went into
the kitchen instead. The guys had been spying and waiting, and they knew the
news wasn’t good. When even Gadget couldn’t pull Dale away from
something! “This is getting pretty serious,” Chip said. “I think we need to
come up with something else for Dale to do.”
“Yeah, but what?” Monty asked. “I mean, the lad’s
like a sponge an’ just soaks up whatever he’s interested in. Gotta count our
blessings, though. He could be obsessed with soap operas.” Gadget tried to look
on the bright side. “Chip, maybe Dale’s just going through a phase right now.
Let’s give him a little time, and maybe he’ll calm down soon.”
“I hope so. I’m starting to hear the A-Team theme
song in my sleep,” Chip said. Chip and the others walked back in, taking seats
on the sofa. “Dale, don’t you think you should knock off for now? I mean, you
have watched a lot of episodes today.” Dale ignored Chip until the commercial
break. “Chip, you know I need constant entertainment. Life is so boring. Why can’t life be more like the A-Team instead
of our dull, ordinary lives?”
Gadget considered that. “Well, technically the
A-Team’s lives are orchestrated by
writers so it would be difficult for our lives to simulate theirs. That is,
unless there actually are writers orchestrating our lives. Hmm...I wonder if
they allow for editing suggestions?”
“Gadget!” Chip shouted.
“Oh. I mean, you should be happy with the life you have, Dale. There’s
plenty of excitement all around you, if you make yourself a part of it.”
Dale pointed at the screen. “You never see the A-Team
doing laundry or shopping for groceries.
I think it was Alfred Hitchcock who said, ‘Movies are life with the
boring parts cut out’.” Chip shut off the television. “Well, this isn’t a
movie, and you have responsibilities! You’re a Rescue Ranger, and that’s
important. Sure, it might be boring some of the time, but if every day was like
the A-Team, you’d be bored then because it’d never change!”
Dale sighed. “You’re right, Chip. I’d like to help
you, Gadget, if that offer still stands.”
The Rangers breathed a collective but silent sigh of
relief, as Dale went off with Gadget. All seemed well, but when it came to Dale
they should’ve known better. When the imaginative chipmunk went to bed that
night, his mind was still racing with the details of the A-Team. Then he was
suddenly jolted awake, and found his clothes were different. He was wearing a
baseball cap and a flight jacket over a t-shirt with some snappy motto. He was
also in a padded room.
Dale began looking around, but his attention was
soon drawn to the nearby window. Chip and Zipper were there—or rather it was
them but not as they usually were. Chip had on an expensive-looking Italian
sport coat and Zipper had a Mohawk haircut, a beard, gold around his neck, gold
earrings and was wearing a cutoff denim vest—and muscles everywhere.
“Come on, Murdock!” Chip shouted. “We’ve only got a
few minutes until the security alarms cut back in!” Dale walked over the
window, which was open. “Uh Chip, Zipper, what’s going on? What am I doing in
here?” Zipper’s eyes narrowed. “Who you callin’ a zipper, fool! Now cut with
the jibber-jabber and come on! Don’t know why I bother dealing with this crazy
man…”
Dale pondered these things and suddenly realized he
was dreaming. An A-Team dream! Dale leaped to his feet and headed to the
window. “Okay guys, me and Ed are ready to break out of here!” Zipper got in
Dale’s face. “They ain’t no Ed here! You ain’t talking about that stupid horse,
now?”
“Are you blind, B.A.? He’s a chicken, a giant
chicken!”
“Crazy fool!”
Zipper tried to strangle Dale—which considering he
was a fly was sort of comical—but Chip broke it up. “Come on, Murdock. You and
the giant chicken can sit in the back of the van.” Dale followed the others and
hurried into the A-Team van parked outside. Dale shooed his invisible companion
into a rear seat. “Don’t worry. He’s a rooster, so he won’t lay any eggs. Man, that makes me hungry! I could sure go
for a omelet right now, B.A.. Can we
stop at a Waffle House?”
“Shut up, or I’ll scramble you all over the street!”
Zipper shouted, slamming the driver’s door and driving the van—don’t ask how.
In the passenger’s seat was a rather rotund mouse, dressed in a light-colored
jacket and smoking a cigar. In the back
with Dale and Chip was a female mouse, dressed like a reporter. Monty took the
cigar out of his mouth. “All right, we’ve got a case. Seems like some slime
balls in a town no one’s ever heard of are leaning hard on a bunch of poor but
well-meaning locals and we’ve got to go in and break the bad guys’ little red
wagon.”
Dale was confused, which did set well with the
character he was portraying. “Shouldn’t we stop their nefarious dealings with
the poor people instead of breaking their toys?” Zipper turned around, leering.
“I’ll break your toys if you don’t...”
“Will you guys give it a rest!” Gadget said, putout.
“It’s bad enough I have to follow you guys around the country, risking my job,
and getting paid little better than minimum wage. Still, we do put a lot of bad
guys away.”
Chip was momentarily entranced by Gadget—what else
is new. “I love it when you’re angry, Amy. Say Hannibal, don’t you think we
could, you know, slip into town and out quietly this time? I just hate
wrinkling my suits when Decker ‘shows up, and I just bought this one for the
new premiere of that picture I’m promoting. You know, ‘Cannibal Women From
Mars’? I figure it should be a big sell with the family crowd.”
Dale smiled, playing into his role. “Face, Ed wants
to know if there are any hens in the movie.
He likes hens.” Dale began clucking like a chicken, and Zipper decided
at that point to ignore the conversation behind him. “We ain’t working for free
again, are we Hannibal?” Monty grinned widely. “Now B.A., whatever would give
you that idea? After all, money isn’t everything.”
“I knew it. Chump change.” Zipper buzzed in
agitation as Monty directed them to their destination—an abandoned airstrip,
with a—
“Plane!”
Zipper hit the brakes. “Hannibal, I ain’t flyin’ in
no airplane! That crazy fool’s gonna crash!” Dale was starting to enjoy this.
“Now B.A., don’t you worry your thick little cranium one iota. If we’re going
down, Ed will save us all!” Zipper got more agitated. “I don’t fly! I don’t
fly!” Chip tapped Zipper on the shoulder. “B.A., you are a fly.”
“I don’t care! I ain’t gettin’ on no airplane!”
Monty smirked at the rest of them, then produced a
glass of milk. “Well, I suppose we could go by train. You’d better finish this
milk first, though.” Zipper took the glass. “Oh yeah, thanks.” Zipper drank it
down, and fainted promptly. Monty grabbed him. “Let’s go, everyone!”
The team got on the plane, and Dale was surprised
when no one objected to him getting into the pilot’s seat. He was even more
surprised when he actually knew what to do. “Saddle up, Ed! We’re getting ready
for a hyperspace jump!”
“I really hope this trip is worth it,” Chip mumbled.
“YA-HOOO!” Dale shouted, doing a barrel roll once
they were airborne.
Hannibal showed him their destination, and they
landed a couple of hours later in a field next to a farmhouse outside the small
and largely unknown town of Sticksville. When they got out, they were met by
two women—a bat and squirrel who were wearing overalls and had obviously been
busy with some produce
“Oh, you came! I’m so happy!” Tammy ran up and
hugged Chip. “Wow, are you ever cute!” Chip grinned politely. “It goes with the
territory. And who might you be?” Tammy admired his tailor-made suit. “I’m
Annie Sue Doughtery and this is my sister Becky Lee. We work here in our Uncle
Bedivere’s rutabaga farm.”
“Yeah, except the mean Furball boys won’t let us
ship our rutabagas to market!” Foxglove said. “And the local sheriff’s in on it
with them.” At the mention of the sheriff, an older bat came out of the farm
house. He had been beat up, and was wearing a cast on his right leg and had his
right wing in a sling. Bedivere used a crutch to cover the distance. “You’d
better watch out. Those Furball boys play fer keeps!”
Monty lit a cigar. “Well, we’ll just have to ship
those rutabagas ourselves.” Zipper shook his head. “You ain’t puttin’ no
vegetables in my van! Murdock’s the only vegetable I can stand.”
“But your van’s in New York!” Dale pointed out. Zipper looked around,
coming out of his daze. “How’d we get here if we didn’t...Murdock! I’m gonna
kill you, sucka!” Monty diverted the ticked-off fly’s attention. “B.A., we’ll
discuss that later. There’s a big-rig over on the other side of barn. We’ve got
rutabagas to ship!”
Chip went over to Tammy, who’d been crying, and
hugged her. “Now, don’t you worry! I happen to have a few connections in the
agricultural circles, and I’m sure I can find you a good buyer. After all,
somebody’s got to need rutabagas.” Tammy looked up at him hopefully. “You think
so? Oh, thank you!” Tammy kissed his cheek, then smiled. “Say, you’re
quite a looker! Are you married?”
Chip sensed trouble. “Well I, uh...”
“Come on, Face!” Monty shouted. Chip smiled. “Sorry,
duty calls!”
Chip hurried off, while Dale stood and watched the
loading, along with Foxglove. “You people sure are nice to help us,” Foxy said,
her eyes starting to water. “I think you’re about the nicest group of
vigilantes I’ve ever met!” Foxy hugged Dale, crying on his neck. He tried to
put up a solid front. “Don’t worry your pretty ears, ma’am. We’re the A-Team, we always win. We just
have to go through some ups and downs and we’ll have the whole problem solved
in under an hour.”
“Oh, you’re so amazing!” Foxy said.
Bedivere ambled over slowly to Hannibal. “You know,
it ain’t fair to not tell you this. We can’t pay yer price till the rutabagas
are shipped.” Monty looked down from the back of the big-rig, smiling. “What’s
not fair about it? We’re going to see them through.”
“But the Furball boys, and the sheriff...”
Monty struck a pose. “Just another group of bug
stains on the windshield of justice, and we’re going to wipe ’em off. No
offense, B.A.” Zipper meanwhile was letting his bad attitude fester. “I’m gonna
find out how I got here, and then there’s gonna be some major pain dished out!”
The team got in the big-rig, Zipper driving. They
got about halfway to town when a welcoming committee met them. These guys
didn’t want to talk shop. Fat Cat got out of a sheriff’s car, wearing the
traditional outfit, and was followed by the goon squad dressed as a bunch of
local yokels. “All right, this is Sheriff Tabby. I want that rig back where it
came from, and now!”
Zipper leaned out of the big-rig’s driver’s seat. “I
pity the fools who stop the rutabaga shipments! Get outta the way or I’ll have
ta bust ya all up, real bad.” Dale leaned out of the other side. “You better
move or you’ll see the unchained wrath of an enraged giant chicken!”
Fat Cat laughed. “A fly with a Mohawk and a crazy
munk? Oh, I’m so afraid...” Monty whistled from the truck’s cab. “Hey lardo, here’s
something for you to be afraid of!” Monty brandished an AK-47 assault rifle,
and threw one to Zipper. Thanks to his new muscularity, Zipper could handle it.
The others came out of the back of the big rig similarly armed except for Chip,
who had a bazooka.
“You gonna start liking rutabagas now, fatso?” Monty
asked.
“No chance!” Fat Cat said. “Get ’em, boys!”
The Furball gang produced guns of their own, and the
shootout was on. The team sprayed the area with hundreds of rounds, but due to
their expertise they managed to miss hitting any of the Furball gang or the
sheriff. The bad guys managed to miss them too, but only because they had a
surprise for them.
“On the flank, Hannibal!” Zipper shouted.
A truck full of extra goons got out and assaulted
the guys, pounding them to the ground. They didn’t touch Gadget, of course,
because this was after all a gentlemanly bunch of hired muscle. Fat Cat came
and stood over them, with the rest of the goon squad. “Now you tell that
beat-up bat and his girls that rutabagas are out of season! Torch it, boys!”
The massed goon squad set fire to the big rig and
then headed out, whooping it up. Gadget managed to wake up Monty and with the
help of the others they saved the truck. Still, it was heavily damaged. Chip
dusted off his suit, lamenting the loose threads he found. “Well Hannibal,
what’ll we do now?”
Monty got a funny look on his face, and his
moustache extended.
Chip cringed. “Oh, no. Not that...” Zipper sighed.
“Hannibal’s on the jazz again.” Monty lit a fresh cigar, grinning widely. “We
were just softening them up. When we come back—“
“We’re coming back?” Chip asked, hoping he’d heard
wrong.
“We’ll finish the job.”
The team gathered later back at the farmhouse, where
the girls had helped patch them up. Zipper was getting a band-aid put on him by
Tammy “I don’t need no band-aid! I just need another crack at them suckas!”
Dale walked up to Zipper. “B.A., I think Ed has an idea of how we can save the
day!”
“They ain’t no stupid chicken, except the feathers
in your head!” Zipper shouted. Monty ran interference. “Now hold on, B.A. If Ed
has an idea, we should listen to him. Go ahead, Murdock.”
“Well, my idea was to ride on Ed’s back as he flies
over the bad guy’s place and I’d drop eggs on them, but Ed suggested we get some
steel plates and weld them over the truck and make a tank and crash it into the
villain’s place.”
“We’ll save your idea for a backup, Murdock,” Monty
said. “I think the chicken’s got a winner there. Say Bedivere, you got any
extra armor plating around here?” Bedivere nodded. “Sure do. The barn’s full of
it, and I’ve got an acetylene torch out there and some old engines and spare
parts.”
Monty laughed, satisfied. “B.A., let’s do it!”
Through a montage of shots, Zipper and the others
assembled the armor plating. Zipper put on a pair of welding goggles, making
sure to keep his gold chains and rings away from the torch as he fit the heavy
plates in place. Then he cut a hole in the plate on top for the top of the
makeshift tank, using the obligatory garbage can lid. Soon, all was ready.
Monty looked over their work, satisfied.
“Roll out!”
The team headed out, meeting the Furball gang, the
sheriff and the extra goons back at the same place. This time, Zipper put the
pedal to the metal, plowing right through their vehicles and knocking them
over. The back of the truck swung open to reveal Chip, Dale and Gadget, manning
a big section of steel pipe that was attached to a tank of pressurized gas and
powered by one of the old engines—a makeshift cannon. Dale put in a rutabaga.
“As a giant chicken once said, ’Cry havoc and let slip the rutabagas of war’!”
With that, they loosed a barrage of rutabagas on the
unsuspecting crowd. Monty appeared on top of the big rig, bazooka in hand.
“Hey, slime balls! Those rutabagas are better cooked!” Monty fired the bazooka,
blowing up the sheriff’s car, but hurting none of the bad guys. Zipper and the
others (save Monty and Gadget) got out of the truck and jumped into the fray.
Zipper took on Mepps and Wart, slamming them to the ground. Chip clouted Mole,
then Fat Cat came at him.
“Murdock!” Chip shouted.
Dale ran over and they hit Fat Cat at the same time,
bowling him over. Then Monty appeared on top of the big rig, got out his
machine gun and fired over everyone’s heads. The bad guys were beaten, and gave
up. Monty lit a cigar, and smiled, speaking that immortal line. “I love it when
a plan comes together!”
Later, at the farm, Bedivere shook hands with Monty,
“I sure want to thank y’all. You got our rutabagas to market and the farm’s saved.
Here’s the money we owe you.” Monty shook his head. “No, you keep it. You, your
farm and your girls need it more than we do. We’re just glad we could help.”
“Ed works for chicken feed,” Dale said, agreeing.
Bedivere was amazed. “You boys sure are something.
Are you sure there’s no way we can thank you?” Tammy lit up. “I know a way!”
Before Chip could protest, Tammy ran up, threw her arms around him and smooched
him. Chip was caught in the squirrel’s iron grip for a few moments, then
extricated himself, smiling awkwardly. “Well, they do say the hard jobs go to
the brave.”
Foxy brought a daisy for Murdock and gave it to him.
“I know it’s not much, but take it please, so you’ll have a way to remember
me.” Dale stepped out of character, took her in his arms and kissed her long
and passionately. “I’ll always remember you, ma’am.” Foxy blushed, then
stammered. “I...I reckon you will...”
“Let’s go, team,” Monty said. “There’s more nameless
towns with harassed good people to save. Besides, I think our escort’s just
arrived.” Over the hill, a siren signaled the entrance of several military
police cars. The A-Team headed for the van and scratched off, Colonel Decker
(in the form of Nimnul) in hot pursuit. Monty smiled and waved, first at the
Doughteries, then at Colonel Decker who was shaking his fist at him.
“You despicable do-gooders!” Decker shouted. “I’ll
catch you yet, despite hundreds of bungled attempts!” It was a good day in
A-Team land.
With that, Dale woke up with a start—he’d been
dreaming it all. “Oh wow, what a neato dream! I gotta tell somebody!” Dale
headed into the main room. Chip was there, watching the news as usual, along
with Monty and Zipper. At first, they were afraid he’d want to change channels,
but his excited demeanor showed otherwise. Dale began regaling his friends with
the details of his dream. They could only roll their eyes and smile politely.
Dale took a big breath and finished with, “Then
Monty said, ‘I love it when a plan comes together’!” Chip was really wishing he
could be someplace else. “Uh, right Dale. Would you mind going and telling
Gadget about it? They’re about to cover the local stuff from last night, and I
don’t want to miss anything.”
Dale was about to, when Gadget appeared. She had a
silver-looking globe in her hands, which was actually floating slightly above
them. Chip saw her come in first, and pointed at the object. “Gadget, what’s
that?”
“Oh, good morning,” Gadget said, having just
finished an all-nighter. “Actually, I haven’t come up with a name for this yet.
It’s an electromagnetic wave-driven memory stimulator. I got to thinking that
old folks often have problems remembering things, so I came up with this. The
EM waves help to stimulate the memory center of the brain and should make it
easier for them to remember.”
“Good idea, Gadget!” Dale said, intrigued by the
appearance of the object. “That’ll come in handy for remembering birthdays and
anniversaries too!” Monty shuddered at the mention of the “S” word. “Uh luv,
are ya sure it’s safe?”
“Oh, of course! All you have to do is take hold of
the ball...”
“Like this?” Dale quickly reached out and grabbed
the ball.
“...once I’ve adjusted it to the proper strength for
whoever’s holding it,” Gadget finished, then realized Dale had beat her to the
punch. “Uh oh.”
Chip looked worried, probably with good reason.
“Gadget, how bad is ‘uh oh’?”
“Right between ‘oops’ and ‘we’re toast’. Dale, drop
the ball! It’s at full strength!”
Dale struggled with it. “I... can’t... let go of... it...” Dale
collapsed to the floor, overcome by the object’s energies.
“Dale!” everyone shouted. Gadget warned the others
against touching Dale while he had the ball in his grasp, then went and got
some rubber gloves. She quickly pulled Dale and the ball apart, and Chip
checked him out. “He’s breathing okay, and he has a heartbeat. Gadget, what did
that thing do to him?”
“Gosh, I...I don’t know,” she said, worried. “I’m so
sorry about this! Oh Dale, please get up!”
Dale came back to consciousness, talking very
strangely. “You done it again, Murdock! I said I ain’t gonna fly on no plane!
When I find out how you knocked me out again, I’m gonna bust you up!”
Everyone
was relieved, since Dale was joking. Chip pulled him up to a standing position.
“At least you weren’t hurt, Dale. Come on, now. We need to go scout the city in
the RangerPlane.”
Dale leered at Chip. “Face, you know B.A. don’t fly
on no airplane!” Chip gave Dale a bemused grin. “Okay Dale, that’s enough
clowning around. Now let’s go. I’ve got to plan out our new patrol routine.”
Dale patted his shirt, taking on a totally different attitude. “Face, how about
scroungin’ me up some Cuban cigars? And never forget, I’m the one who
comes up with the plans.”
Chip’s patience was wearing thin. “Come off it,
Dale! It’s getting annoying now, and I’m...” Gadget’s quick mind had been
analyzing the situation and made a connection. “Maybe he’s not joking, Chip. It
could be an after-effect of the electromagnetic wave!” Gadget turned to Dale.
“Who am I?” Dale didn’t miss a beat. “Amy, what’s the new mission? Do we have some innocent townsfolk to rescue
from greedy land developers?”
Monty took off his flight cap. “Crikey! He thinks
you’re that reporter lass! An’ he thinks Chip is Face.” Zipper was worried and
buzzed, “Oh, no!” Chip quickly pulled the others aside. “Maybe we’d better
humor him...uh, Hannibal? Actually, we need to go spring Murdock first. Could
you stay here for a few hours while we bust him out?”
“Good idea, Face,” Dale said. “I’ll work on a plan
while you’re away.”
The Rangers put on their best smiles for him, and
headed outside. “By the time we get back, maybe it’ll have worn off on its
own,” Chip said. Gadget looked back, worried. “I hope so, Chip. There’s no way
to plot the effects without a statistical study. If he hasn’t improved, we
should probably take him to the doctor.”
“Good thinkin’ lass,” Monty said. “Now let’s get up
there and see what’s what.”
Back inside headquarters, Dale searched for a cigar
but found none. Hours passed, and the Rangers didn’t come back. The
chipmunk-turned-Hannibal knew something was up. “Hey, where do we keep the
machine guns? Well, about this time the bad guys must have captured the rest of
the group. I guess I better go and
rescue them. Now, where are the keys to
B.A.’s van?”
Dale headed for the garage, finding the RangerMobile
and one of Gadget’s plunger guns in it with spare darts. The chipmunk broke out
into a wide smile. “I love it when a plan comes together!” Dale started it up
and headed out into the night.
Hannibal...er…Dale headed for the factory where he
figured Decker was waiting with the captured A-team. “Don’t worry gang,
Hannibal’s got a plan. They’ll be expecting me to come through the front
door... so I better not let them down. This baby’s gonna need some armor.”
At the Happy Tom Cat Food Factory, Fat Cat was
entertaining some late-night guests. Unfortunately, it was a captive audience.
“I’m so glad you could drop by tonight! We were in need of some entertainment.
You know how it is—life gets boring as a master criminal. So when you so
generously walked into the net trap we put out just for you, we decided to give
you a celebrity roast—LITERALLY!”
The Rangers were tied up together and suspended over
one of the factory’s furnaces. Chip stared at Fat Cat defiantly. “You won’t get
away with this!” Fat Cat gave him a smug look. “Oh, not that old tried
and true line. And who, pray tell, would save you? That overweight chipmunk
with no fashion sense?”
Dale climbed down from the windowsill, having spied
on the plight of rest of the A-Team. “Well, Decker’s really gone nuts this
time. Lucky for me there was a welding torch handy and all that sheet metal.
Time to rain on his parade.” Dale climbed down and powered up the newly-armored
RangerMobile, heading right for the door. Fat Cat turned at the sound. “What’s that?
No one’s supposed to know I’m here...”
Suddenly a small vehicle moving at high speed
crashed through the wall, heading straight for Fat Cat. “Decker, you’re just
not good enough to beat the A-Team! You’re never gonna take us in!” Fat Cat
stepped back in surprise. “What’s this? Get him, men!”
From out of the woodwork, the goon squad emerged.
They tried to stop Dale’s progress, but as Hannibal Smith he was more than a
match for them. Dale popped up the top of the armor-plated vehicle, with a
modified plunger gun that now shot marbles rapid-fire. Soon the goon squad was
on the floor, tripping, and it was between Fat Cat and Dale. The chipmunk left
his vehicle and approached the portly feline, weapon in hand.
“Well, you’re certainly braver than I gave you credit
for,” Fat Cat said. “But now surrender, or your friends will be doing a short
dive into the fiery furnace!”
“Are you really that dumb?” Dale asked. “By now
they’ve already worked out a clever plan to free themselves. Decker, what we
got us here is a standoff. You drop
them in the furnace and I’ll throw you in after them. If you don’t let them go,
I’ll throw you in and set them free. Either way, this place is gonna smell like
burning fur. The only question is, whose fur’s gonna do the burning.”
“You’re trying my patience, rodent,” Fat Cat
growled. “And who’s Decker? You trying to fool me?” At the word ‘fool’, Dale
switched personas. “The only fool here is you. And I pity the fool who don’t
listen to Hannibal Smith. Time to meet Mr. Plunger, sucka!” Dale began shooting
marbles at Fat Cat, who really wasn’t expecting this. He began backing up.
“What is it with you? Are you crazy?”
“No, the only crazy fool here is Murdock!”
Dale began working his way to the controls that held
the other members of the A-Team. “I
don’t know how you fools let Decker get the drop on you.” For the first time,
Chip was glad for A-Team marathons. “Way to go, Dale...er, B.A.!”
Fat Cat ran at Dale. “No, don’t touch that!” Before
the tubby tabby could get to him, Dale fired another marble that was perfectly
placed. Fat Cat lost his footing and fell—right onto the top of the furnace.
His posterior was stuck there, but only for a moment. The crime kitty howled in
pain and popped out of there, his biscuits burning. Fat Cat ran for it, the
rest of the goon squad in tow. Dale safely lowered the Rangers down, and then
set them free.
“I love it when a plan comes together,” Dale said,
smiling at the sight of the bad guys retreating. “We better get out before
Decker comes back with more military police.” Gadget came over and hugged him.
“Oh, thank you! It looked pretty bad there for a while, but we should’ve known
you were up to facing the odds.” Dale switched again, and took Gadget in his
arms. “Well, you know, the life of a soldier of fortune has its ups and downs.
And I’d call you one of the ups. Facing the odds is what the Faceman does best,
Amy.”
Dale kissed her, and Gadget blushed. “Golly...”
Foxy, who’d been largely forgotten up to this point through some kind of plot
hole, marched over. “Hey, what about me?” Dale put one arm around Gadget’s
shoulder, and one around Foxy’s. “Well, you know what they say—the more, the
merrier!” Dale escorted them over to the RangerMobile, Chip fuming all the way
and Monty trying to keep him under control. A little while later, back at
headquarters, Gadget and the others surrounded Dale in Gadget’s workshop as she
prepared to use the EM ball on him again.
“Okay, I’ve reversed the polarity,” Gadget said.
“This should bring him back to normal.” Dale looked at the invention
uncertainly. “Okay, but if anything happens to me, make sure Ed gets my comic
book collection.”
“Ed? Who’s Ed?” Chip asked.
“He’s a chicken, a giant chicken!” Dale said. “He’s
right behind you, are you blind?” Chip twisted around, but there was nothing.
“Gadget, throw him the ball before this gets any worse.” Dale’s eyes narrowed.
“This better not be another one of your ways of gettin’ me on an airplane,
Face!”
Gadget brought Dale the ball. “Of course not, B.A.
This is...for your spare scrap metal collection.” Dale looked at her
suspiciously for a few moments, then took the ball. “This better not be a
trick. I pity the fool who tries to pull a trick on B.A. Baracus.” The ball
glowed, and Dale fell back on the table. Gadget took the ball, then patted his
face gently. “Dale? Wake up. Are you okay?”
“No more cartoons, mom,” Dale mumbled. “I want to
read a book today.”
“He’s delirious!” Chip shouted.
Dale sat up with Gadget and now Foxy’s help, groggy.
“Cutie, do you know me?” Foxy asked. Dale shook off the confusion.
“Foxglove? Of course I know you, and
count myself lucky for it, too.” Foxy was overjoyed and hugged Dale tightly.
“He knows me! He’s back to normal!”
The others breathed easier, then Chip helped Dale
off the table. “Thanks for saving us back there, Dale. I’m sorry I took your
comic books away. I guess you can read them again if you want.” Dale shook his
head. “After all that, I think I’ve had my fill of comics and TV for a while!
Let’s do something else.”
“Good idea, mate,” Monty said. Chip snapped his
fingers. “You know what we need? A vacation! I know, why don’t we go to Hawaii?
We could go to a luau, see the sights and maybe get a tan.”
“That’s a great idea!” Gadget said. “Maybe some time
away from all this would be good for us all.” Dale was all for that. “Good
idea, Chip. We sure could use some time
away from people trying to kill us and mistaken identities and all that other
silly stuff. And who knows? Maybe I’ll meet Gadget’s twin sister over there and
we’ll fall in love!”
Chip laughed. “In your dreams, Dale. That kind of
ending only happens in television shows.”
“I know, I know.” Dale looked at the camera and
winked, sporting a candy cigar and giving a thumbs-up as the scene irised out
to the A-Team theme song.
The A-Team is copyright Stephen J. Cannell, and used without permission but with gratitude for many years of enjoyment. Lahwhinie, Tammy, Fat Cat, Nimnul, the goon squad, Foxglove and the Rescue Rangers are copyright Disney and used without permission, but with the utmost respect.
