Chapter Nine

I glanced around the room rapidly and found what I knew had to be there, a digital clock. Shielding my eyes, I smashed the high-tech timepiece as the others tended to the cheese-stricken leader. The healing wood was administered by Fern who slapped the chief's forehead so hard a welt soon formed. The gopher came out of his cheese delirium rubbing his forehead gingerly:

"What happened? I had just come to a decision on this mouse thing and checked the clock to see the time after I had summoned you here." The high-gopher then looked at Mervin, "I haven't died, have I?"

"Nope, you just thought you were cheese for a minute." the monk replied.

"Oh, good. I would hate to think that in heaven they pluck their eyebrows. You should try a good eyeliner to round out the look. It would emphasize your naturally full eyesockets and take attention away from that mole on your nose." the high-gopher said.

"Mole? What mole?" Brophy asked as he turned to see Mervin's face. "Hey! Where did you get that? It wasn't there yesterday."

"It's a beauty mole. I got it while you were playing Find-the-Barometer today with that scientist." the monk responded.

Apparently unhappy with the sudden attention, the mole jumped off Mervin's faced and skittered down the hall. "Gee, moles are real temperamental rodents, aren't they?" Fern observed.

I interrupted their little slapstick routine to talk to the high-gopher about his decision. "So, what's the plan now?" I asked.

"Well, the gophers will totally support the ferret and deer alliance. We will stop any desert mice from coming through from the west, but I'm afraid that's all the help I can offer. We don't have a large population here, just enough to defend and we still have to keep our spaceport open. It really rakes in the drachmas for us, not to mention the fact that all the babes really go for a leader with a spaceport." the gopher leader finished.

"OK, " I said knowing that this wasn't great news, "...we'll bring this information to Sperfville as soon as we finish our business in Upper Wellbottom. Thank you for your hospitality." After I finished, I noticed that Vance and Bruno had been making annoying gestures and giving me rabbit ears. I wouldn't have noticed it at all if the gopher leader hadn't burst out laughing. Suddenly I had the urge to make him think he was cheese again, but I had already smashed the clock -damn!

"Is there a room available so that we might teleport out of here without blowing anybody up?" I asked.

"Sure," the gopher said, "down the hall, two doors to your right." He just managed to get that out before another wave of laughter hit him. I was tempted to tell Vance to 'port us from right here, but with our luck, we would probably end up coated with flour and yelling "Ah yes Rupert, but what about linoleum?" It was a short walk until we reached the room and Vance had his moment of glory, "We have small rigfarters to the west."

***********

Ruby and Nubby Barnwaft were still in the same position we had left them in earlier. Both were chanting to themselves, "I am parmesan...I am ricotta...." Since we were already well practiced in turning cheese believers back to normal, we managed to have them recovered in record time.

While we waited for them to clear their heads and mutter about how the last thing that they remember was looking at the clock, Brophy went in search of the fondue pot.

"At last! Fondue!" Brophy yelled. In seconds the cheese was totally gone except for a thin film at the bottom of the pot. Looking somewhat green our friendly groundhog turned to Bruno and proceeded to relive his fondue all over the cow. "Maybe I shouldn't have eaten ALL of the brown fuzz on the cheesy surface, eh?" Brophy said whiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Brophy took a quick glance down at his spew puddle and said, "Fondue, twinkees, and brown mold." again demonstrating his identification abilities.

Vance clapped and wondered telepathically to me if Brophy had ever considered becoming a contestant on the Barfeteria Challenge.

My attention turned to the now coherent Nubby Barnwaft, "They were here! Bizzillions of 'em! Mice everywhere! And they...they forced me to watch hour after hour of Geraldo reruns -O' the humanity!"

OK, maybe he wasn't all that coherent, but considering the company that I've been keeping....

While Nubby went on ranting, Ruby was more cooperative. I told him that we had solved the parking lot mystery and that the desert mice were using them in highly advanced cheese making procedures. He had already known that, but since we had made a deal, we would be paid our drachmas. Now he had another proposition for us.

"These desert mice are about to invade the area from the north in about two days. What I want you to do is lead our small force of cows and bulls against them until some help gets here. If you take my offer, I promise you that you won't ever be drachmaless or," looking at Mervin, "twinkeeless again. Any of you."

"This is a most tempting offer, but we have to deliver news from the gophers to the high deer council in Sperfville. That would take at least all of tomorrow and that would leave us only one day to prepare." I answered.

"That wouldn't be a problem if some of you stayed here while you went to deliver the message. Please, you have to help us." Ruby begged. The pleading in his eyes was much like Mervin's when we were low on twinkees.

"All right." I agreed. Turning to the others, I asked if anyone would like to stay to help ready for the desert mouse invasion. Bruno, Fern and Spaz volunteered. While the Barnwafts made arrangements for the coming invasion, we took the opportunity to get some rest. At dawn, myself, Vance, Mervin and Brophy would leave for Sperfville.

I slept later than usual that morning while the others readied themselves for the day. In attempting to pack up, Bruno noticed a sizable jar in with Brophy's belongings. "Hey! That's a nice decorative decanter you have there! Where did you get it?" asked Bruno.

"Well...I've always had it...and it's not a decanter it's a...a...breath mint dish...yeah a breath mint dish." Brophy said.

Fern's attention was attracted and she recognized the jar for what it was. "That's no breath mint dish, it's a funeral...." Fern was cut off as Brophy slapped his hand over her mouth.

"Yeah, it's a funeral breath mint dish. Care for one?" the groundhog offered.

"Wait a minute! That ISN'T a breath mint dish!" Mervin joined in. "That's a funeral urn!"

"Funeral urn? Of course not. It's a...a yatzee dice cup. No....a relay race trophy. No...a gumbo bowl. It's a mail box. A unique cookie jar?" Brophy fumbled.

"You know, it could be a yatzee dice cup." Bruno said.

"Yeah, I told you. Anyone for yatzee?" Brophy asked, shaking the urn for effect.

I woke up to see them all on the floor rolling dice from the small urn, "Spaz what's going on?"

"Our compatriots seem to be participating in a contest of chance utilizing a final-remains receptacle that Brophy purloined during our stay in Gopherland." the ferret answered.

My eyes glazed over trying to translate what she said into understandable language only to be interrupted by a shout of "Yatzee!" from Bruno. After I had it straight in my mind I couldn't bring myself to yell at Brophy for what he had done. After all, he hadn't stolen a used one which was something to be thankful for. Yes, our moral fiber was being frayed, but the pressures of war and the stress of diplomacy has a way of doing that to a person.

It wasn't long before the game broke up and Vance, Mervin, Brophy and myself were ready to go. The Barnwaft's made sure we had enough twinkees for the journey and wished us well. I checked Caution making sure that we would be back in time to lead the defense of Upper Wellbottom.

As soon as the sweet smell of cow digestive tract cleared the air, we headed to the west for Sperfville. It wouldn't be a long walk because Vance got us pretty close to the border of Northern Berfinia, but that didn't matter. These cow-proofed areas were getting on my nerves.

The walk was easy compared to what we were used to and in no time we could see the new center of deer power, Sperfville. It looked peaceful enough from afar, but it had to be at least as busy as things were in Upper Wellbottom if not more so.

We jogged through the dense forest and soon were at the city gates again. From the gates, we were escorted to the center of the government building in which Parfoom planned, in detail, his strategy. The deer didn't notice our arrival and was startled by our sudden appearance in the command room.

"So, do you bring word from the gophers my friends?" he asked hopefully.

"Just a minute, who said that we would be your personal messengers?" Brophy pushed forward, "I think that we should be compensated for our services."

"What would you want?" Parfoom asked apparently annoyed.

"Well, let's see...a new eyebrow pencil for Mervin," the groundhog said causing the monk to beam, "...a big plate of cud for Vance," the cow smiled, "and a bizillion drachmas for me!" The groundhog had an expectant look on his face now as if the demands were not fully what he deserved.

When it became clear to Brophy that he wasn't going to get a bizillion drachmas he looked as if he were going to jump for my pants and start electrifying some deer meat. Alertly, I zipped my fly to bar his entrance and tried to answer Parfoom's original question. "The gophers said that they can't help us in any battle that doesn't involve them directly. They are under-gophered as it is, but they do promise to do whatever they can to stop any desert mice coming from the west."

Parfoom looked lost in thought again. It didn't seem from his body language that the war was going at all well for the deer. Finally, he pulled me aside to confide in me, "The mice have taken almost all of the Gerb River Basin to our east."

"That's just a bit north of Upper Wellbottom." I said somberly.

"Yes, although our troops no longer think that they are cheese, thanks to you, another problem has come up that we believe the mice are responsible for. Do I have to tell you how much we deer cherish our pet cats?" the deer asked.

"Of course not. Cats are both lovable and comfortable throw pillows for your people." I answered.

Parfoom nodded agreement. "It seems that someone has put large pictures of mice at the bottom of almost all our toilet bowls. Before anyone really noticed, almost half our cat population drowned from going for the underwater images. The desert mice aren't afraid of us, it's the cats. So, they tried to eliminate them in their 'Fluffy don't float' campaign." Parfoom said tearfully.

Brophy broke in, "So what you're saying is, the mice are tricking your cats into taking a dip in the porcelain flushable, but the kitties don't have gills, so they...."

"Yes, they go to cat heaven and are very happy." I said finishing Brophy's sentence before he said something we would all later regret and throw Parfoom into a deeper depression.

Parfoom looked saddened for a moment and then continued. "We have spot bowl inspections everyday now so that more of our cats aren't...submerged, but, unfortunately, a few each day fall victim to these bowl pictures."

"How awful for you." Mervin sympathized.

Since it seemed everyone was listening anyway, Parfoom turned so that our whole group could hear more clearly. It was then that he noticed Mervin's face -specifically, his eyebrows. "Do you pluck your eyebrows?" he asked.

"Oh...aaa..yes." Mervin responded in as low a voice as he could.

"Me too!" said Parfoom excitedly. "I love it! Wouldn't go back. And you know, the babes just can't resist a bald brow, but I guess that's not why you do it, huh?"

"Oh...aaa..no, all the monks in my order do it." Mervin said quickly trying to draw attention away from his face.

"No they don't! He's lying! He does it to redraw them again and I think it has something to do with wind resistance." Brophy screamed. No one looked as if they were listening though.

It bothered me how Parfoom, in fact, deer in general, could change the subject so rapidly from dark and sad to happy and helpful. I chalked it up to the old saying that deer have the attention span of turnips and let it go.

Brophy was working himself up now, "Hey! Isn't anyone listening to me!?! The monk lied!!!"

No one acknowledged him yet again as Mervin and Parfoom discussed the pros and cons of the various tweezers on the market.

"Lying! The monk!! He's lying!!! Lying, lying, lying!!! Come on guys, you know he's lying...." Brophy was desperate for someone to listen to him. He started scrutinizing the room carefully and found what he wanted; a small spider was scurrying across the room on the wall. Brophy ran up to it and whispered, "That monk over there is lying to the deer."

The spider stopped, stood still for a while and then continued its trek across the wall. The pause satisfied the groundhog. At least someone knew that Mervin was a lying monk.

The conversation took a more serious direction when Parfoom stood. "I would have wanted your help here, but since you are already committed to the Barnwafts, let me send someone back with you to help out. He's a bit eccentric, but," he paused looking at the groundhog who mumbled something about lying monks and hell before sitting down, "I guess you're used to that."

"Who is it?" I asked, not at all eager to have a gung-ho army type around to order us civilians to do the obvious.

"We don't know him all that well here. He's from beyond the Jingol border to the northeast and his name, as far as we can tell, is Yakboy." Parfoom said after pushing a button on his desk.

A few seconds later, Yakboy walked in. Half-yak, half-boy, not that I'm psychic, but I think I saw where his name came from. Yakboy strode up to me and shook my hand most enthusiastically before doing the same with everyone else in the room.

"Does he talk?" I asked Parfoom.

Before the deer answered, Yakboy replied, "Oo! Suavely embossed there, Percy!" He seemed very pleased with himself and started doing what looked to me like victory laps around the room. It was odd enough when he was the only one doing it, but when Brophy and Mervin joined him I thought that I'd blow a kidney laughing.

"Near as our best linguists can tell, that means that he enjoyed your joke and is showing his appreciation of it. Do you know why they're doing it?" Parfoom asked, pointing toward Brophy and Mervin.

"Yeah, they're just boobs." I answered truthfully.

Yakboy finally stopped and looked at me with bated breath, as if waiting for another joke to appreciate. Parfoom began to talk again, "He is said to be quite the strategist, so I advise you to take his observations very seriously."

"Take the Yakboy seriously, check." Mervin announced sarcastically. After that, introductions were made to Yakboy and plans were set to leave immediately for Upper Wellbottom to get back in time for the invasion -it was always bad form to keep invaders waiting.

Parfoom wished us good luck and had us, including Yakboy, escorted to the city gates. This left us to concentrate on the walk to the edge of Northern Berfinia where Vance could teleport us back. We weren't half-way there before Yakboy bounded into the woods. For a while we tried to find him, but with little luck. When he got back he spoke to Vance, "It's your serve with the dubacakes."

Vance shrugged his shoulders, went into the woods, and released some pent up liquid. On returning, Vance gave Yakboy a courteous nod and patted him on the back for reminding him to pee. Yakboy recoiled from Vance's touch and shouted, "Keep your grubby doombugs to yourself amigo!" Vance walked away from him slowly, looking sideways at him for a long time.

A few feet down the trail we had to stop again to pull Brophy from Mervin's hair. "Come on! If plucking your eyebrows is so much fun, let me pluck your entire head!" screamed the groundhog.

"No one is going to harvest my newly-found ability to make shampoo horns!" announced the monk. "You know I could have had a very successful career on the Horn-duel circuit with my good pigmy friends." he said in Yakboy's direction.

Yakboy stared at the monk for a second and then continued walking, obviously not impressed with shampoo horn talk.

If we had to stop every five feet to moderate an argument we would never get back to the Barnwafts let alone stop an invasion of death-crazed rodents. It had to end now; unfortunately, now wasn't soon enough. Vance and I were about twenty feet ahead of Brophy, Mervin and Yakboy who brought up the rear. They were getting acquainted with each other and everything seemed to be going well until Yakboy took Mervin in a headlock and gave him a lightning quick series of noogies.

Yakboy was furious about something, "And double fudgkins on you Percy!" he said over and over.

Brophy explained to me that it was all just a game so I didn't have to intervene. I should have known from the smirk on the groundhog's face and Mervin's bloodcurdling cries that the Brophster only said that to ensure more noogies would fall unimpeded.

Vance went into action when he saw that I wasn't going to do anything about it. When he did manage to get the two separated, the monk flew into a rage. "Do I have to use my tough guy voice or is Yakboy gonna hand over the twinkees peaceably?" he asked, his voice shaking a bit.

"If the religion boy wants twink, he can find twinkable yaks in the valley. I'm not that kind of yak-boy." said Yakboy.

"Twink? I don't want twink, least of all from you. I want a twikee, you know -golden delicious spongecake surrounding a heavenly sweet, fluffy white, creamy center. I'm not that kind of religion-boy either." responded Mervin, his temper cooling noticeably.

"A twinkee? Boy is my rupee red. I fathomed you were putting the moves on Yakboy." Yakboy said.

With everyone's moods calmer and more understanding, we made it to the teleportation spot without further incident. Vance made sure that we were all together and said, "We have small rigfarters to the west." The effect of the moment was not lost on our new companion for as we disappeared, I could swear I heard Yakboy say, "Hallelujah brother!" saluting the teleporting cow. The sudden disorientation and the dissolution of our surroundings drew "Oooos" and "Aaaas" from the amazed Yakboy. He described the whole process, most eloquently, as "the brain blowing turkey melt of ephemeral cartage". Too bad it was such a cliché.