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pluto-art · 4 years ago

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Syncytium - Chapter 6

Title: Blackbird Words: 27,440 (no, you did not read that incorrectly; ha) Rating: T

Fan Fiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13712482/6/Syncytium

I am always going to highly recommend the Fan Fiction link, as it retains all of the accentuated words. I will also be uploading this to AO3 soon. Yes, I know it’s... very long. XD

October 20th, 1993 - 11:23 AM

A starling piped out its little laughing call on the autumn air, a light breeze carrying its song throughout the campus of A.C.M.E. Arts and Sciences. Occasionally, it tickled the ears of a student peppered here and there, sitting by a fountain or under a tree. Sometimes it wandered far enough to whistle past an open door and into the hallways of the university. Olivia, on her way to deliver another message, caught it near the entrance and whistled back, smiling. Basil, passing by Olivia, chuckled as he shuffled through a band of papers clutched in his long-fingered hands, an all-too-familiar tune escaping from his lips: the Gilligan's Island theme song. He couldn't help it. It just got lodged in his throat now whenever he saw Olivia. The tune traveled, Basil passing it to Mrs. Frisby... who passed it to Teresa on her way to Mathematics class... who tossed it to Bernard and Bianca... who finally threw it off to Flaversham, who took it with him into his office. Music made merry in the mornings throughout Acme, but there was one individual who took it upon himself to sing a slightly different tune...

In Room 319, paused at the finale of that day's science lecture, spewed a cavalcade of obscenities.

"How in the name of Isaac Newton do you COMPLETE dimwitted modicums NOT know the basics of the Pythagorean Theorem?!"

Sweat dripped from students' brows and paws as Globetrotter yelled at the top of his lungs. A couple of sophomores could barely keep their eyes open, cheeks propped up on their fists; they'd heard it all before. Mouse boy with the note pad was scribbling feverishly, his tongue between his teeth. 'Dimwitted modicums'. This was gold.

"Do I have to do everything myself?!"

Heaving an excessively prodigious sigh, Globetrotter stood up from his chair (which made a loud vrrrrrrr sound as it scooted back across the hard wood floor), shifted over to one side of his desk, rubbed at his temple for a moment, and offered his dreaded invitation:

"Ms. Mayhew. Would you kindly step up to the blackboard?"

Every eye in the room turned to a skinny, pointy-nosed mouse with auburn hair and a lacy blue outfit. She looked positively terrified and turned helplessly to those around her. All she received was pitying stares in return. Gadget looked shocked.

"I'm waiting, Ms. Mayhew."

With a large gulp, the girl slowly shook her way up from her desk, eyes transfixed on Globetrotter, and took a chance.

"S-S-Sir, I-"

"ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE ME WAIT HERE, OR WILL YOU KINDLY DO THE HONOR OF ACKNOWLEDGING MY REQUEST?!"

Without another word, little Ms. Mayhew flew down to the front, practically tripping over herself on the way down. She stopped in front of Globetrotter, resolute, eyes wide. Her tail was trembling something horrible. So were her knees. So was... all of her, really. Every soul in the room knew what she was thinking. Why me?

"Thank you," bit Globetrotter, frowning deeply at her as he grabbed a very long, very wooden stick leaning against the blackboard and pointed sharply to an equation written upon it in thick white chalk. "Now, would you mind telling me what this says?"

The girl mouse stared up at the equation, covertly slipping another gulp as best she could down her throat. How she wished she hadn't worn her nice dress today. It was getting terribly soaked from all the sweat.

"Ahem!" Globetrotter coughed, mockingly.

"A-uhm...," stumbled the girl.

She knew what the equation was - could solve it in her sleep, in fact. But the harsh reality of the course was that even the sharpest of tacks turned into melted brass at the sight of an angry Globetrotter. Since its inception, most every class he'd taught had been filled to the brim with bright and eager pupils, yet all he saw were a bunch of dunces, born of his own blindness.

"I'm waiting..."

She swallowed again.

"Well, um... t-t-the equation clearly s-states that fourteen for 'b'... I-I mean 'c', divi-... um... i-is, I mean, equal to the-"

"Ms. Mayhew, are you insinuating that you cannot even solve for something as trivial as this?"

"N-No! I mean, I can... i-it's jus-"

"Perhaps my class is too difficult for you, is that it? Perhaps you should have been held back a semester?"

At this, the girl frowned. Timid she may have been, but stupid she absolutely was not.

"M-Mr. Globetrotter, I actually a-"

"Then I suppose it wouldn't be terribly out of the question if I assigned extra homework for you all mid-semester?"

"NO!" was the resounding reply by a fair number of students.

Almost all of them were glaring daggers at Globetrotter, not only for his harsh treatment of a fellow classmate, but also for the unfairness at hand. More homework? Already they'd been given three assignments in Algebra 1 alone, on top of all the other papers due in other courses. Even for Globetrotter, to slap on yet another was excessive.

Globetrotter simply smirked.

"Good," he said. "Then I expect it promptly tomorrow night. Dismissed!"

"Tomorrow night?!" snapped a boy hamster at the very back of the class. "But we're already working on our other assignments!"

"Dismissed!"

Slowly, they all began to file out, groaning. Ms. Mayhew still stood by the blackboard, fighting back tears as Gadget came up to her side and threw an arm around her comfortingly.

"Come on," she whispered, shuffling her out the door. "You didn't deserve that mess."

She threw a deathly stare at their teacher on the way out, one he didn't notice; he was too busy straightening papers. She wasn't the only one. Several students were privately, albeit facetiously, plotting Globetrotter's death, and even note-taking guy shiftily stuck his tongue out at Globetrotter on his trek to the door.

Outside, Teresa had just arrived to tentatively take a seat by Room 319. She jumped as the door banged open. It was a mad dash between the students to get out the door as quickly as possible without making it seem like they were rushing - the sound of shuffling was so prevalent, and the atmosphere so electric, that Teresa was surprised there wasn't static shock bouncing off of them as they went despite the floor not being carpeted.

Poor Ms. Mayhew came last of all, Gadget still comforting her gently, and they lingered by the wall where Teresa sat. She stood up, concerned, a pile of books clutched in her arms.

"What happened?"

"Pen got the Global Treatment," explained Gadget, disdain still painted all over her face.

"What?!"

"H-He said I was stupid!" Penelope Mayhew lamented, rubbing at her eyes and sniffing heavily.

"He did not."

"He did," said Gadget. "My laser wrench is almost complete. I'd like to give it a try on him."

Frowning, Teresa set down her books, took Penelope's paws in hers, and gave her a good, long look.

"Penelope? Don't let what he says change you, okay? You're not stupid and you're not unworthy. We love you just the way you are. Okay?"

At the word "just" she gave her hands a little shake - firmly; definitively. This seemed to cheer Penelope up a bit. Sniffing once more, she gave a nervous little chuckle, smiled, and wiped more tears from her eyes.

"Thanks, Teresa," Pen choked out.

"Anytime."

"Thank you, too, Gadget."

"Hey, we've got your back, girl. Sorry I didn't take the bullet for you back there... I should've said something," admitted Gadget, hanging her head a little.

"Oh no. It's okay. I wouldn't have wanted you to get in trouble either..."

All three girls exchanged smiles.

"I... guess I'd better get going," said Penelope. "Thanks, guys."

"Bye, Pen," Teresa said, wiggling her fingers at her in farewell before bending down to pick up her books.

"Bye, 'Resa," Gadget replied, making to follow Penelope. Mid-way, however, she stopped and turned. "Oh. By the way, have you seen Maise' lately?"

Teresa shook her head.

"Me neither... She skipped class the last four days."

"Doesn't she have a brother?" asked Teresa.

Gadget nodded as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah. We haven't seen him around either..."

They both stood in awkward silence for a moment.

"Well, um, I'll see you later...?" inquired Teresa.

"Yeah... Have a good class," wished Gadget, crossing her fingers.

"Thanks," chuckled Teresa nervously, sighing as she entered Globetrotter's classroom.

The first thing that hit Olivia upon entering the despised teacher's scholastic abode... was the smell. She slapped a delicate pink paw over her nose in disgust, trying her best not to cough violently at the sudden inhalation of smoke. Globetrotter's eyes popped at the sight of her, and she barely had time to catch the fancy 'Sherman' script on a small black box resting on the table before the science teacher quickly swiped it from the desk and stuck it haphazardly into a drawer. Despite the rancid odor permeating the air, Teresa had to stifle a chuckle, for the look on Globetrotter's face, all puffy cheeks and shocked expression, made him look quite comical. He seemed half-way between deciding whether or not to swallow what he'd already inhaled... before opting to simply own up to being caught red-handed and letting out the smoke in one long, drawn out blow.

Biting her lip, Teresa shuffled as quietly as she could into the very back row and opened up on her book on Calculus, doing her best to ignore the tickling exhaust playing about her nostrils. She waved it off.

"You're early...," breathed Globetrotter, his feet propped pretentiously up on the table. He sounded altogether embarrassed and conceited, like a celebrity ordering fries at a McDonald's.

"I didn't know you smoked," stated Teresa shyly, but bluntly.

Globetrotter didn't answer right away. Taking another long draft, he blew out the remains of his ex-addiction before putting out the light and throwing the butt into the trash can.

"Old habit," he coughed, leaning back into his chair and staring off into space pensively.

Another pause followed. Flip went a page of Teresa's book.

"It's not good for you," she said softly, sounding... almost annoyed.

"If I wanted your opinion I would've asked for it," came Globetrotter's sharp retort.

Teresa sunk into her seat.

"Sorry..."

Globetrotter huffed, leaning further back into his chair with a creeeaaak that echoed off the walls. He'd have to get that oiled...

Privately, he knew she was right. Teresa was right about a lot of things. Not that he would outwardly admit to it. There was a reason why she was slightly more bold about pointing out his faults - she was one of his best students and she knew it. But she also knew that his fuse was short, and so still feared him to at least a moderate degree. Globetrotter was proud of this. He liked being in control, of instilling respect and obedience into the hearts of all who dared cross him. It made him feel powerful; influential; appreciated, even if in a notorious sense. Everyone hated him, but they also venerated him. No one would dare cross Globetrotter without good reason, save for, perhaps, Snowball, and for this he gladly took the unpopularity hit. After all, was that not what life was all about? Being respected? Going down in history as someone who was knowledgeable and talented in their craft? Stardom be darned. If he was going to be adored, it would be for his work, not his charity. For what was one's pitiful existence except to try and make a living best for oneself and no one else's? Life was a rat race, full of people who didn't care, and he intended to stay at the front of the line.

Flip... Flip...

As Teresa sifted through her tome, the shuffling of the pages brought to Globetrotter's mind a memory, far suppressed...

\\\

"What's this?" strolled the sharp tongue of a tall, female mouse. The less-than-exemplary grades revealed themselves most distastefully as she flipped up the page of teacher's notes, her nose turning up with it in disgust.

"Umm... M-Mrs. Taft said I could retake the class i-if I complete an extra assignment this seme-"

But the young boy mouse, hands shyly tucked behind his back and feet shifting unsteadily, was cut short.

"You expect me to believe this? That you can't pass a simple math class?"

"I-I..."

"What is this, Brian?"

"I... I-I..."

"BRIAN, LOOK AT YOUR MOTHER WHEN SHE'S TALKING TO YOU!"

Slowly, hesitantly, two glossy little crimson-tinted eyes peered up into salmon pink ones.

The mother sighed.

"As far as I am concerned, this is unacceptable. You will complete the assignment and retake the class as ordered. Your father will be alerted when he gets home. He will decide the punishment."

And she left, leaving him alone, shaking, in his room, all too aware of the laughter ringing outside his bedroom window - a reminder of which of the neighborhood children were allowed happiness... and which were not.

\\\

Globetrotter stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Lost to time.

"... Globetrotter...?"

Yes. That's what life was all about. Success. Legacy. No room for failure. No permission for error. He was used to hate, and so it bothered him not. No. It bothered him not...

He sighed.

"Mr. Globetrotter...?"

He didn't matter. Didn't matter. And that was okay. That was okay...

"Mr. Globetrotter!"

He jumped.

Teresa was staring at him from across the desk, concern etched deeply into every nook and cranny of her face.

Globetrotter sat up sharply, only then realizing that something was... off. He touched his cheek. Oh, crap.

"Are you okay?" Teresa pressed.

To cry at all was an act of weakness; deficiency. To be caught crying in public was downright mortifying.

He stared at her, shocked. She waited. For what? An answer...? His admittance?

"Get out...," he whispered, deadly.

"B-But, I..."

"GET OUT!"

She ran. Out of the room, into the hallway, slamming the door behind her.

Globetrotter was left to pant at his desk, chest heaving heavily as he buried his face in his hands... and cried.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

11:35 AM

Teresa sprinted as fast as she could, around a corner, down another stretch of hallway, and all the way to room 210. She knocked frantically. Even though she knew he wasn't always in this early, she hammered at the door for dear life. And amazingly, blessedly, it opened.

"Teresa?" queried Pinky, tilting his head confusedly.

Teresa said nothing, but simply threw her arms around him and started sobbing.

"Teresa!"

"M-Mr. Pinky! I-I...!"

"Ohhhhhh. Shhhh. It's all right! It's all right," cooed the Trozologist, returning the embrace in kind and petting Teresa's light brown fur comfortingly. "Come inside, love. We make you a pot of tea."

They stepped inside his office.

Compared to the first day Ronald Pinkus had set foot in A.C.M.E. Arts and Sciences, Room 210 was nigh unrecognizable. All but one empty box had been replaced with quaint little side tables, bookshelves, a soft gray couch, and various lamps and knick knacks that added color and flavor throughout the small classroom. The linoleum flooring had been replaced with threadbare carpeting, complete with a rug here and there. He'd left up the beach posters and complemented them with a sizable fish tank complete with tiny minnow. A wee brass plaque stuck to the tank near its bottom read: Jerry. On the teacher's desk sat the usual bits and bobs: a picture of Pinkus's family, some snacks, a couple of Newton's Cradles, and a green 70's lamp. The latest edition was an electric coffee pot, which was currently boiling water.

Teresa took a seat on the couch at Pinky's request, wiping at her eyes with a tissue he'd procured for her.

"Now, you sit right there! I'll be right with you with your tea!" said the friendly teacher, rushing over to his desk and quickly whipping out from one of the drawers a white mug with a 'Sonoma Theatre' company label on it and a tea bag.

As Pinky busied himself with the tea, Teresa, sniffing, gazed about the room.

There wasn't anything particularly surprising to her about it at this point, save for the coffee pot. She'd been in here more times than she could count by this point, and had, as such, seen its transition from humble classroom to house-maker's cottage. It was amazing how much the room felt like a home - save for the stale ceiling lights, chalkboard, and rolling tv, one would never know they were in a school. Even the smell of it was more reminiscent of one's grandmother's cottage than a dusty classroom. Their teacher had clearly tried to hide all traces of it being in a university as much as possible.

She looked around some more. Yes, everything else was the same.

Well... no, actually. Not quite.

"Mr. Pinky...?" Teresa asked, letting in another loud sniff.

"Hmm?"

"W-What's that?"

Pinky looked in the direction Teresa was pointing.

In the farthest corner of the room, next to a trash can and some stacked chairs, sat a tall cabinet with rows and rows of colorful drawers, each with a label on them. Although she couldn't read them from here, Teresa guessed they listed such names as 'Olivia', 'Timothy', 'Marvell', and 'Red', for over the course of the last month Pinky's class had begun to not only attract Olivia's friends, but also actual students at the university. Some had finally decided to take the plunge and found it to be more than worth it. She wondered if her name was on there somewhere.

"Oh! That's our new student cabinet!" Pinky answered happily, walking over to Teresa with a hot mug of tea in hand. He was stirring something into it. Honey, perhaps?

"Thank you," said Teresa, as he handed the cup to her. "So... those are all for us?"

"Mmhm! Fresh out of the box!" exclaimed Pinky, sitting down next to her.

"What's in them?"

"Oh, just little treats for you all. And it's a space to put your things in when you visit!"

"Really...?"

"Absolutely! Narf! And if you're extra good you might find a little prize in there now and again," said he, giving her a wink.

Teresa smiled. She couldn't help but smile. Ronald Pinkus couldn't be any kinder if he'd tried. In her opinion, he was the best teacher she'd ever known, and she'd known a lot of teachers.

"You're wonderful, Mr. Pinky," whispered Teresa, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes.

"Awwwww. Not as wonderful as you all! I'm truly grateful to have you as my students," he whispered softly back, an arm coming around to pull Teresa in for a hug, and he meant it.

"Oh, gracious! Look at the time!" Pinky blurted out, jumping back a little. Teresa's eyes popped open as she looked up at the clock. It said '11:51'. "Don't you have class in nine minutes?"

"Oh. A-A-Actually, it's not 'til one," admitted Teresa, standing up to smooth out her dress with one hand, the cup of tea in the other. "I just like to get to Globetrotter's classes early sometimes so I can study in peace."

"Mmm. Quiet in there, is it?" Pinky asked, crossing his legs as Teresa took a sip of what turned out to be peppermint, complete with honey. Delicious.

"Mmhm. I don't like him... really. And I came into class a bit too early today, but..."

She went silent for a moment, contemplating her tea.

"What is it?" inquired her teacher, looking concerned.

"Well... He... He seemed a bit... sad today."

"Sad?"

"He was crying, actually."

"Oh dear. Poit. What over, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm... not sure. But he was so upset that I caught him crying that he screamed at me to leave, so I did."

Pinky thought about this for a moment. For once, he didn't answer with a chipper response or a hearty smile. Instead, he appeared quite pensive, deep in contemplation. His brows were creased and his eyes shifted a little as he stared at the floor, as if recalling an old memory long forgotten. So lost was he to time that time... he forgot.

"Mr. Pinky...?"

He looked up, blinking.

"Are you all right?"

"Oh. Y-Yes! Yes, I'm fine."

Teresa was not convinced, but didn't press the matter further.

"Okay."

She took another sip of tea and set the mug on the table.

"Well, I... probably should get going for lunch. Thank you for the tea."

"Oh, of... of course! Come back any time, okay? If you'd ever like to study in peace, you're always welcome to come here in the mornings," offered Pinky, hope dancing playfully across his tone.

Teresa nodded. She opened the door, sighed, and turned back to look at the Trozologist.

"Mr. Pinky?"

"Hm?"

"Could you please talk to Mr. Globetrotter? He's not all bad. I think he just needs a friend."

Pinky smiled.

"Will do, Teresa."

Grinning, she left. Only then did Pinky let out the heavy sigh he'd been holding in. He stared at the back of his family's portrait, expression etched with worry. Why had that memory come up? That had been a bad one. Not at all fun-fun, silly willy. If he was going to serve his students with a smile he'd better learn to repress those thoughts a bit better.

Sighing, he stood up, arched his back, and downed the rest of the tea Teresa hadn't finished in several swift gulps. After that flashback, he needed it.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

4:08 PM

A long-fingered paw dug one of its fine-tipped nails into a divot in the rotary phone, pulling at it with great finesse. Then another. Then another.

A pause.

An opposite paw drummed its digits on the ebony surface of a desk, counting the seconds.

Four... five... six...

"Pick up, my dear," breathed out a sinister voice, its sweet, sing-song tone only coating what lied beneath.

A click.

"Hello?" came a feminine response, vivacious, piercing, and absolutely drenched in an accent that could only be described as "straight from the streets of Brooklyn".

"Billie! How are you?" greeted Snowball, in an almost mockingly chipper tone.

"What do you want, Bally?"

Snowball frowned.

"You know I don't like it when you call me that."

"Hmph. Be glad I don't call you anything worse. What do you want? I'm in the middle of a perm!"

"Then I'll keep it extra brief," the hamster said, rolling his eyes. As if he wanted to stay on with this floozy. "What would you say to a little party around, say, ohhhhhh, Halloween? Saturday on the thirtieth. Adults only, of course. Strictly professional."

"And why would I care about that? You know those old school parties are terribly dull! Besides, I thought you banned them?"

"I had a change of heart. Also, this one is a costume party, my dear. And I promise I won't invite any... mmm... problematic friends this time."

"You sure...? 'Cause last time you said Finnigan wasn't going to be there and guess who showed up! Making me look all embarrassed and everything, and right when I was meeting someone nice, too! And then there was the other time you set me up with someone you said was 'just perfect' for me, you said. 'Just perfect! Absolute smash'! He was a smash, all right. Smashed me right into the punch bowl! And then there wa-"

"All right, all right. I get the point," groaned Snowball, rubbing at his temple. He knew he'd hate this conversation, but he reminded himself that it would all be worth it in the end. "I promise that there will be no flim flams, no set ups, and no... errrrm... punch bowl incidents."

"You sure...?"

"Cross my heart, my dear. I'll even send a cab to pick you up."

There was silence on the other end for a spell, as if the she-mouse was heavily thinking it over.

"What's the catch?"

"Catch? There is no 'catch', my dear! I only wish to pay you back for that time you got me out of a sticky spot, is all. No catch! Just friendly reimbursement."

"Well... Okay. But you better not be having anything up your sleeve!" trilled the she-mouse.

"Oh, my dear," came the smooth tones of the principal, as he stood up from his chair, made for his office door, and peeked through a long stretch of blinds hanging upon it. As it happened, Globetrotter was rushing down the hallway and into a bathroom right at that moment. Snowball smirked. "If there is anything up my sleeve, it is nothing worth pondering."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

7:48 PM

Pinky rushed down the stairs to the basement, nearly tripping over his long tail.

He was late. Usually, he met up with Brian promptly at 7:30, but Olivia had found it of extra importance to give a run-down of every little detail involving her Halloween party, which, she'd reminded him repeatedly, was sure to be at least a hundred times more fun than the adult one. Normally, Pinky wouldn't have minded, but her timing was not particularly favorable.

The lanky professor straightened out his half-moon glasses, which were askew, as he reached the bottom, smoothing out his long, tea-stained lab coat, something that proved a bit difficult seeing how his arms were filled to the brim with all kinds of party supplies: bows, ribbons, wrapping paper, streamers, disposable cups, plates, utensils, and napkins, along with a latex balloon or two (fully blown, of course).

Skidding slightly down the hallway, he shuffled hastily past the elevator and knocked frantically against an empty stretch of gray wall which, he knew, housed behind it a long-brewed secret. In his panic, he'd forgotten that Globetrotter had installed a little hidden doorbell for him a week ago (he'd grown tired of the knocking; besides, it was more practical), and he knew that using the scan pad was of no use - Brian still didn't completely trust him. Huffing and panting, he yelled at the blank wall.

"Brain! I'm here! Oh, please open up." This last line he muttered to himself, dancing about on his tippy toes anxiously. "Please, Mr. Globetrotter! I'm sorry I'm late!"

In response, a door did open, but not the one he expected.

Pinky turned swiftly around as the elevator doors slid apart to reveal a woozy-looking Globetrotter. He wobbled a bit as he stepped off the contraption, taking a moment to lean against the wall, his eyes unfocused.

"Brain! Are you okay?!" Pinky asked, rushing over to him, balloons bopping about, a paper cup slipping out of his grasp to fall, clattering, to the floor.

Globetrotter stared up at Pinky; or, at least, he tried to. His mouth was slightly agape and he seemed to be having trouble focusing on the subject in front of him. In an attempt to ground himself on... something, he settled for gazing into the mouse's bright cerulean orbs. Gracious, they were blue. For some reason, this seemed to help.

"Yes, Pinky. I'm f-fine..," Brian hiccuped, steadying himself.

"You know, you really should see the doctor about that," mused Pinky, concerned.

"I'll be fine. The pills should.. -hic- .. 'elp."

Pinky frowned, not entirely convinced, as Globetrotter made for the scan pad and sloppily pressed his left paw upon it. It scanned him twice, beeped satisfactorily, and admitted them entrance into the laboratory. Pinky trotted in after Brian, the wall sliding closed behind them.

Not much had changed in the two weeks since Pinky had toppled headfirst into Globetrotter's secret hideout. The shelves were still mahogany, the potions still bubbled, and the mysterious contraption in the back of the room remained as cryptic as ever (Brian refused to tell him exactly what it was). Globetrotter had acquired a few more bits and bobs since, some of them courtesy of Pinky, including a box of peppermint tea (now half-way full) and a VHS of Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan, both of which, Brian discovered, he'd liked.

Globetrotter collapsed into his desk chair, undoing his belt despite there being a visitor present. Along with his condition had come an onset of gas and bloating every now and again. He felt like he was becoming a living experiment, and he hated every minute of it. Grabbing a small, orange, translucent bottle, Brian screwed off the cap, haphazardly knocked a couple of pills into an open paw, and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing them dry. One of the pills from the bottle fell to the floor.

"Oh! I've got it, Brain!" Pinky offered, ducking down to try and pick up the pill... and failing royally.

"For the last time, it's Brian," said Brian. "And wouldn't it be more efficacious for you to put down your haul first and then pick up the pill?"

"Zort! Good idea, Brain! Er... I mean Brian! Ha-ha!"

"You are such an idiot...," Globetrotter muttered, rolling his eyes as Pinky dumped his armful of stuff onto the floor, retrieved the pill, and inserted it back into the bottle. "Thank you," mumbled the stout little mouse, screwing the lid back on and replacing it on the desk.

"No problem!" saluted Pinky, returning to his haul.

Globetrotter turned his computer chair a touch, frowning at the collection of party goods. It seemed that Pinky wished to add a few more knick knacks to his treasure trove. Not that he particularly minded the dim-witted lank bringing stuff in; occasionally, he proved to have... some sort of taste. But this seemed excessive. And there were a lot of yellows. And pinks.

"Pinky, what is this?"

"What is what?" Pinky asked innocently, picking out a corner in which to organize his colorful cargo.

"This," indicated Brian with a hand. "All this junk."

"Oh, it's not junk, Brain. They're party supplies!"

"Like I said: junk. What on Earth are they for?"

"Well, for the party, of course. Duh. What did you think they would be for, Brain?" queried Pinky, throwing Globetrotter a quizzical look as he started hanging up the streamers.

"It's Bri-... Oh, never mind," sighed Globetrotter, relenting. "What party?"

"The 'taking over the world' party! Don't you want there to be a big celebration?"

"Oh..," Globetrotter faltered, realization striking him. "Yes, um, that party."

In truth, he still hadn't explained to Pinky exactly what was up his sleeve - that "taking over the world" was meant to be as literal as it sounded: taking over the world. Every night since Pinky's discovery of the lab, Brian had allowed him entrance almost nightly, giving him various tasks to do that helped him in his scheme: gathering strange odds and ends throughout the school or at shops and warehouses; keeping watch in the university hauls when he needed to lug something particularly suspicious down to the lab; or else grabbing him a cup of coffee from the cafeteria when he was running out of steam late into the night. And they would stay late: 'til 3:00 in the morning sometimes. Always, Pinky stuck with him as long as he needed. Blindly, he was under the impression that everything he was doing to help Brian was going towards a better future, and it was... for himself. Not that it was all in selfish gain. Brian did want to help the world - he wanted to improve the educational system, abolish various political branches, and generally bring all countries under his little pink thumb because, of course, the only one truly fit to rule the planet was himself. He could see it all in his head... and it was glorious. Pinky, on the other hand, wanted to solve world hunger, offer free medical treatment to every citizen, bring peace to all nations, spread the theory of Trozology (whatever the heck that even was...), and, for some reason, legalize cheesecake in every state. When Brian told him that he didn't think cheesecake was illegal in any state, Pinky simply shrugged, shook his head solemnly, and stated, "Oh, you don't know what they're like in Arizona, Brain...". Nincompoop.

And so Globetrotter played along with the misunderstanding, letting Pinky think that he was helping Brain in one thing when he was really assisting him in another, only now and again feeling a bit guilty of it. Besides, who was he to refuse a free lackey? Pinky was willing, and naive, a ripe combination for taking advantage of.

Unfortunately, today was one of those days in which he felt self-conscious about it, guilt lodging uncomfortably in his throat as he struggled to swallow it down. He'd been having more trouble with that lately.

"Just... keep it out of my way," he nipped, gray chair swiveling sharply as he turned back to type furiously upon a well-worn Model M.

"Right-o, Brain!" saluted Pinky once more, straightening out his lab coat.

As he did so, his lapel got caught on something. Pausing, he took a closer look at the culprit: his name badge. He unhooked it and smiled. There shone his address: Ronald J. Pinkus. Bright, bold... and blemished! Well, that simply wouldn't do. Frowning, Pinky breathed a steam of hot air onto the badge, fogging it up a little, before rubbing at the dirty little spot covering up the 'J' in his name. There. Much better. He turned it about... and noticed something else.

A magnet.

Huh...

He pulled it off; looked it over.

"Egad," he exclaimed. "What do you suppose that is?"

"Quiet, Pinky. I'm trying to concentrate."

"But, Brain!" Pinky insisted, thrusting it in front of Globetrotter's pug-ish face. "Look! It was on the back of my badge!"

"Pinky, would you..."

But at the sight of the "magnet", he went wide-eyed.

"Give me that!" Brian blurted out, swiping the tiny object from Pinky's dainty fingers.

"Oh! Is that yours, Brain? How do you suppose it got on there...?" Pinky mused to himself as Globetrotter assertively stuck the device into his coat chest pocket. It took a full ten seconds for realization to strike. He gasped. "Brain! Did you put that on me? Is it part of the plan?!"

"Uhhh... Y-Yes, it's a... um... personal attraction device. It attracts people to you whenever you wear it."

It was a lame excuse, but it worked well enough for Pinky. He gasped again in sudden understanding.

"Ohhhhhhhh! So that's why I've been getting so many students! Isn't it, Brain? It's a people magnet! How thoughtful of you, Brain!"

"Uhhhh... sure. Yes, that's... that's exactly it."

"May I, um, may I have it back?"

"No," Globetrotter stated flatly, not even looking at his cohort as he continued to smash keys.

At this, Pinky did something Globetrotter did not at all expect.

"Oh, please!" he crumbled, falling to his knees and literally begging, hands clasped and all. "Please, let me have it back! The students need me! I promise I'll take good care of it!"

All right. Maybe he should have expected this. It was Pinky, after all.

"No! I have to make some modifications to it first."

"H-How long will that take?"

"A couple of days."

"Two days?! But I have class tomorrow!"

"Well, you'll just have to go without it, then, won't you? Besides, I highly doubt you need a charm to remain magnetic," he grunted, almost enviously.

"Oh, please!" Pinky begged again. "What if the kids don't come if I'm not wearing it? W-What if all the teachers suddenly hate me? What if my whole career was for nothing!? Please, Brain! I don't want the tomato treatment!"

"Get off of me!" snapped Globetrotter, tugging the ends of his coat out of Pinky's clutches. "Tomato treatment. I don't even know what that is!"

"Getting booed off the stage, of course," said Pinky matter-of-factly.

"Oh, but of course. How stupid of me to not know," the science teacher groaned, sarcasm dripping from his reply. Was this idiot really that self-conscious?

"Please, Brain?" he asked, much more calmly. "I... I promise I won't bother you at your computer anymore... or bring party junk..."

His tone was desperate; miserable. It tugged at Brian's ears, incessant, until he finally succumbed to the cry, his piercing gaze creased in a frown as he turned slightly to stare at the pleading mouse.

Pinky was still on his knees, giving Globetrotter the puppy dog eyes something awful.

He sighed.

"Fine. I'll just... make a new one," he relented, pilfering the little device from his pocket and practically tossing it to Pinky, who caught it in both hands.

"Oh, thank you, Brain!" exclaimed the Trozologist ecstatically, hugging the "magnet" to his cheek. "I'll be careful with it! I promise!"

"Don't mention it," tossed Globetrotter offhandedly, adding with a mutter that only he heard: "As if I would've been able to fix it properly anyway..."

Pinky turned it over and over in his rose-tinted fingers, studying it carefully, as if it was a precious diamond extracted from the depths of the deepest cavern, and, to him, it rather was.

"Personal Attraction Device," he repeated, almost lovingly. "P.A.D. Pad! Ha-ha-ha! I'll be sure to always keep my pad on me, Brain!" he said, sticking the magnetic device back onto the backside of his badge and clipping the name tag to his coat.

Globetrotter cringed.

"Please don't say it like that..."

"Why not?"

"Because it... Ugh. Never mind," gave up Globetrotter. What was the point?

Shrugging, Pinky went back to putting away his party items, humming cheerily to himself as he did so. He made sure to put up the streamers in a place that was out of the way of Brain's main working spots, but still in an area where he'd see them. This ended up being above and around the legs of the test tube shelf - the pinks, blues, and greens nicely complemented the lilacs, oranges, and turquoise hues of the potions scattered throughout. Next, he tucked the wrapping paper and cellophane underneath the same shelf, more hidden from view, but still accessible. Then he bent down to pick up the paper plates and cups. Hmm. He really should have gotten a bag for this. Perhaps he could grab one from his classroom?

Standing up, he bumped into a streamer (he was a rather tall mouse, after all), touching it lightly to keep it from rocking back and forth.

"So sorry, little streamer!", he uttered, before making for the exit. "Brain? May I go get something from my classroom?"

"Mmhm," muttered Globetrotter, not taking his eyes off the blazing monitor.

"Thank you! I'll be back!"

He pressed a dark red button on a spot on the wall, which immediately allowed him exit, and stepped outside. With a swoosh the wall closed behind him. As soon as he was beyond the lab, he made for the stairs, pausing to observe a couple of stray pieces of streamer that had fallen in the hallway. They were yellow, like dandelions. He picked up the little dandelions, smiling as he turned them about with his fingers. Yellow was such a pretty color. It reminded him of the sun, and of bright school buses, and of yummy frosting that one put on cakes and...

He paused, staring out into nothing.

Cake.

Streamers.

Party.

Oh, shoot...

He'd almost forgotten about his promise to Snowball - his promise to somehow get Brain to go to the Halloween gathering. He was glad no one was around to see the worry drape slowly across his face; to see the fear in his eyes.

How in the whirly winds was he going to get Brain to attend? Brain barely allowed pinks and blues into his study, let alone permit himself to participate in a full on party. Then again, he did seem to enjoy himself a little more than expected during Pinky's game show. Perhaps he'd like similar fair?

Sighing, Pinky dragged himself up the stairs one step at a time (he still preferred the long way over the elevator), his shuffles echoing creepily across the empty halls as he reached the first floor. This was going to require a bit more effort than he thought...

Opening the door of Room 210, he flicked on the lights and rummaged about for a bag, only to locate none at all. He looked about. In a corner sat the empty box, the same one he and the kids often used for adventurous expeditions. That would have to do. He'd get another box tomorrow.

Scooping up the box in his arms, he left the room and traveled all the way back - past the elevator, down the stairs, and up to the completely unassuming solid wall. He knocked, loudly, three times.

Swoosh!

In he stepped, stumbling a little over his feet in haste.

"Got the box!" he piped, shuffling past Brain, who was still furiously typing on his keyboard, and plopping his cargo onto the floor.

Globetrotter barely answered with more than a grunt, not bothering to look around as Pinky began to stuff the extra party supplies into the cardboard container before pushing it up against the wall. There. Perfect. Organized and out of the way, just like Brain wanted it! He gave a jerky little nod in satisfaction.

"All done!" Pinky addressed Globetrotter, receiving no reply.

With a nervous little step forewarned, Pinky tried again...

"So, um... What are we going to do tonight, Brain?"

"Must you ask that every time?" Globetrotter bit, still not looking around.

Pinky blinked a little at the bite, but otherwise ignored it.

"Well, you know, I was thinking, Brain, we're always doing the same thing every night. What if we did something... different?"

"Like what?"

"Well... um...," Pinky faltered, gaze sweeping the room, as if searching for a stall from which to buy time. "Maybe w-"

"If you're thinking of inviting me to that asinine Halloween party you can take your solicitation elsewhere."

Welp.

"You sure?" he pressed on anyway, ears drooping.

"Affirmative."

"Oh. Okay..."

There was an awkward pause, in which Pinky shuffled his feet, fingers drumming behind his back to the rhythm of Brain's incessant typing in an effort to preoccupy himself with something.

"And I don't need your services tonight," Brian continued. "I need to perfect this formula. You can go."

"Oh. Um. Sure, Brain. I'll go..."

He trudged to the door, his right hand serving as a calming agent as he rubbed it steadily up and down his left arm.

"Pinky?"

Pinky stopped and looked over his shoulder, his ears perking up.

"You can take this back. I don't need it."

And he tossed at him a small, round object, which Pinky caught reflexively. He looked down at it and frowned sadly. It was a stress ball. He'd gotten it for Brian last week, in "the hope that it would help". Apparently, it hadn't...

Silently, Pinky tucked the little ball gently into his long lab coat pocket, pressed the red button on the wall, and exited. Globetrotter hadn't even bothered to say good night, and neither did he.

Once in the hallway, Pinky leaned against the now closed wall and sighed heavily. Weathered comments from various school staff skipped one after another in his head, like television commercials.

"I don't know why you bother hanging out with him. He doesn't care about anyone but himself."

"He's a fart and he's a good one. Listen, honey, the only way you're going to get his attention is if you leave him alone."

"Oh, I wouldn't bother with Globetrotter. Nothing good ever comes of it. It's not the first time he's run off a student and it won't be the last. I just wish they'd oust him entirely, but the system is too complicated for that..."

"My good fellow, that's one angry mouse you don't want to deal with. Take it from me: I've been here long enough to see the birch grow from a sapling to a tree, and in all that time I've never once seen him treat anyone with a shred of decency."

Pinky sighed again. Perhaps he was simply chasing a ghost. He knew it was foolish to persevere, to try and make friends with the unfriendly, but he couldn't help it. It was in his nature to show compassion for others, to love them, no matter the situation. He'd never yet met an individual that outright treated him like dirt, or that he hadn't eventually won over with kindness, but Globetrotter was proving to give him a run for his money. Perhaps it wasn't worth it...

Sniffing, he removed the tears he'd let pool for some time and dolefully slid his way down the hall, one hand buried deep in his coat pocket, massaging the little stress ball that, like him, was so very unwanted.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

October 28th, 1993 - 3:20 PM

The "magnet" worked like a charm. In fact, it worked better the longer he had it on. Brain was a genius, Pinky thought, as he strummed a guitar for a total of twenty-five students that sat around a campfire in the woods, all of them singing a song about a beaver who had lost its fur. Crickets chirped merrily in the hot summer night, the soothing sound of a lake drifted lazily somewhere behind them, and every now and again an owl hooted. No one could ever have guessed that they were really in the middle of a classroom in the heart of a bustling university... and during the day, no less.

One fur, two fur, three fur, four! What's the count? He'll lose a bit more!

Five fur, six fur, seven and eight! Watch your back! It's shedding its cape!

Two more silly verses finished off the song as Pinky and company ended the tune with raucous laughter.

"Oh, good job, everyone! That was splendid!" Pinky congratulated them, clapping joyously. To him, this was heaven. Here people were happy, here he was loved, and he intended for it to stay that way. He rubbed at his name tag subconsciously. "All right. What should we play next?"

Immediately, several camp-goers piped up, including Teresa, Marvell, and, of course, Olivia. The number of college student outnumbered the kids now. Olivia still brought her usual friends, of course, but Teresa had convinced some companions of her own to join. She'd gotten Red to participate, and he had told Marvell... whom had told Gadget... whom had told several others, and now there was a good number of university pupils who, when they were able, joined Pinky promptly at 2:00 PM for an expedition to adventure. Thursdays were particularly good days, as most had classes that ran up until 2:30 at the latest, and this particular Thursday every single one of them had been able to come right at the stroke of 2:00.

"Oh! Oh! Can we play a game?" Marvell asked, to which several others nodded, murmuring their agreement.

"We could sing some more. How about 'Old Dan Tucker'? I like that song," mentioned Timothy, a bit quietly.

"May we hear a ghost story, Mr. Pinky?" Teresa queried.

That seemed to get most students' attention. Almost all of the college kids seconded this suggestion. The kids, however, didn't seem enthused.

"Ha-ha. All right! But this time, someone else has to tell it!" Pinky said. "And make sure it's not too scary! We do have some little ones present."

"I'm not scared!" Olivia burst out. As always, she sat right next to Pinky.

"I know you're not, Olivia," her teacher mused, taking her nose between his fingers and lightly shaking her head playfully.

"I'll tell it!" offered a boy rat. His name was Peter, and, at seventeen, he was the oldest in the group (besides Pinky).

"Just don't make it too scary," said Marvell, pulling her jean-covered legs tightly up to her chest in preparation. She'd been on too many family camping trips to know that when someone said a spooky story wouldn't be too frightening, it almost always was.

"Yeah. Not too scary...," wee Cynthia whispered, cuddling up closer to her big brother.

"All right. Not too scary," Peter conceded. "Hmmmm. Okay! I got one."

The group went quiet. All eyes were on Peter.

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

"Oh, come ooooooon," several in the group whined, mostly the teenagers.

Peter laughed.

"Ha-ha. I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Okay. Ummm...," he coughed, then went on. "No one knew what the beast looked like. They knew that he was loud, and he was scary, and he could destroy your entire life in just one second, or so the stories went, but no one knew anything about how he looked. Until one day... a bunch of kids got curious."

Already Cynthia was half-hidden behind Timothy, one eye peeking out in trepidation. A couple in the class rolled their eyes, as if they'd heard this story before, but had the decency to not spoil it. A few were on the edge of their seats, eyes wide in wonder.

"It was Lucy, a small field mouse, who entered the cave first. She was the youngest of the group, but she was also the bravest. In she crept, bit by bit, the others sloooowly following after her. 'Courage,' she said. 'The beast can smell fear.' No one dared to breath any louder than necessary. He might come from any corner; attack from any moment."

Olivia sat with a graham cracker half-way to her mouth. Teresa was as still as a statue.

"Then, suddenly, from out of the corner: FWOOSH!"

Several of the kids, and even a few of the students, gasped, jumping back in their seats. Red nearly fell off his chair, and Cynthia had completely disappeared behind her brother at this point.

"The beast... had arrived! Lucy stood before him, shaking like a leaf as he rose up onto his hind legs to stare at her straight in the eyes. He looked nothing at all like she expected; in fact, he almost looked like one of them. But he had a harsh, piercing gaze that burrowed deep into your soul, telling you all the things you never wanted to hear with just a look.

Lucy stared up into the beast's dark red eyes, bearing down on her, and knew what she had to do.

'I have come to destroy you!' she yelled, steadfast and resolute.

'Ohhhh?' asked the beast, with a low, threatening growl. 'And just how are you going to do that?'

'With this!' said Lucy, and she drew from behind her out of thin air a book. 'With the power of words!'

And the book did have a lot of words. All kinds of words! Big words. Small words. Really, really long, hard-to-pronounce words. Words so foreign they would make a librarian faint. Because if there was one thing that everybody did know about the beast, it was that he was a master at English, and he loved challenges, and it was said that if you could beat him in a spelling bee, he would be defeated forever.

The beast sneered at the girl - an ugly, vicious smile that made the tips of Lucy's pretty fur curl up into knots. But she didn't move. She stood her ground.

'I challenge you to a fight!' young Lucy challenged.

'Ohhhhh? What kind of fight?' snarled the beast.

'A spelling bee fight! If I win, you'll be gone forever!'

The beast laughed. His chuckle sent chills up her spine, and the other kids behind her trembled in fear.

'Fight you may, but win you will not! I accept your challenge!' he agreed, and out of nowhere came a woman's voice in the darkness, soft and smooth... and just a tiny bit creepy.

'Challengers, be prepared. This battle is not for the faint of heart. All forms of cheating are banned.'

And as she said this, Lucy's book disappeared with a POP. The voice continued.

'Get ready, Lucy. Your first word is: Pontificate.'

Lucy was ready.

'Pontificate. P. O. N. T. I. F. I. C. A. T. E. Pontificate.'

'Correct,' came the robot voice of the woman.

Lucy breathed out a sigh of relief.

The woman's voice spoke again.

'Get ready, G. Your first word is: Ignoramus.'

Lucy looked puzzled. 'G'? What could the 'G' stand for?

'Ignoramus. I. G. N. O. R. A. M. U. S. Ignoramus,' breathed out the Beast in his low growl.

'Correct,' said the woman, and Lucy groaned.

And so it kept going, on and on, seemingly forever. The kids cheered Lucy on. She was doing really well! She passed the first round, then the second round. Just three rounds left to go. It was looking like she might do it. She could beat the Beast!"

By now, most students were on the edge of their seats, Pinky included. Even Cynthia had peered out a little, the better to hear. Peter continued.

"She kept going.

'Quixotic.'

'Correct!'

'Bohemian.'

'Correct!'

Things seemed to be going great! But on the next word... she flubbed.

'Surreptitious. S. E. R. E. P. T. I. T. I. O. U. S. Surreptitious.'

'INCORRECT.'

Lucy gasped. The Beast laughed.

She got the next one right, but the Beast won the third round. And then he won the fourth. They were tied."

"Oh no...," Cynthia breathed out, shivering.

"If she could win this one, she'd beat the Beast," continued Peter. "All she had to do was win one more round...

So she kept going.

Last round. Seven words. She got two, then missed the third. The beast got three, then missed on his fourth. At the end, they were tied three-to-three. It was the last word. Her last chance.

The Beast went first.

'G, here is your last word,' spoke the woman. 'Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.'

Lucy's eyes went wide. What kind of a word was that?! She didn't know what it meant, much less how to spell it. If that's what the Beast got, what the heck was she going to get?!

The Beast just smiled.

'Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis,' he began, and proceeded to spell out the whole thing perfectly, down the last letter.

'Correct,' cooed the woman, and the Beast giggled evilly.

Lucy gulped.

'Lucy, get ready. Here is your last word.'

She was shivering from her fuzzy gray ears all the way down to her long pink tail. The kids behind her offered words of encouragement, but she barely heard them.

And then came the woman's voice again:

'Euouae.'

Lucy blinked. Compared to the Beast's word, hers was significantly shorter, but how was she going to spell that? It sounded like all vowels!

The Beast smirked. It didn't help.

But Lucy gave it a shot.

'Euouae. E. U. O. E. A. E. Euouae.'

The troop waited with baited breath. So did Lucy.

And then the woman's voice came.

'INCORRECT.'

The kids gasped. Lucy's mouth dropped. She was off. She was off by ONE LETTER!

'Incorrect!" repeated the Beast, laughing maniacally. 'Now you're mine!'

Lucy ran. So did the other kids. Oh, she ran as fast as her legs could carry her! Faster even!"

"Come on, Lucy!" some of the kids around the campfire cheered, egging their imaginary comrade on. "You can do it!"

Even Pinky joined in.

"Hurry, Lucy! You can do it! Run!"

Peter kept on...

"She could see the exit of the cave! All the kids surpassed her, running out before she could reach it. How were they so fast?! It seemed like the faster they ran, the slower she went. But she kept running... and running! She was almost there!"

"Yeah! Come on, Lucy!," yelled Timothy.

"But then...!

SLAM!

The Beast pinned her to the floor!

Poor Lucy struggled... and struggled, but she couldn't get up.

The Beast smiled wide... opened its jaws... and CHOMP! He SWALLOWED HER WHOLE!"

Most all around the campfire gasped.

"Poor Lucy... was no more."

Behind Timothy, Cynthia was sniffing.

"All of the kids outside the cave stared back at the Beast, terrified at what they had just seen. And the Beast stared back at them.

'Let this be a lesson to you all!' he said. 'That if you're not prepared, like I was, you will tremble and suffer the wrath... of Globetrotter!'

The end!"

"Globetrotter?!" some of the students gasped out.

"Ohhhhhhh. So that's what the 'G' stood for!" pointed out Red, impressed.

"That was a really good story," whispered Teresa, still a little shook up.

"Not much of a ghost story, though," Timothy piped up.

"But it was scary," put in Marvell, frowning. "Peter, you said it wasn't gonna be too scary!"

Peter simply shrugged, smiling.

"Soooo... the cave was Globetrotter's classroom, Lucy and the kids represented all of us, and the spelling bee is the hard tests he gives us that we can never ace?" guessed Gadget.

"Yup," said Peter.

"That was pretty clever."

"It was accurate," whispered a pointy-nosed mouse timidly. It was Ms. Penelope Mayhew. She sat next to Gadget and looked a bit more disturbed than the rest.

"So, you all see Globetrotter as a... beast?" Pinky asked, looking just a touch concerned.

"Doesn't everyone?" mentioned Marvell.

"Well, that's not very nice," said Pinky, frowning at them all. "You shouldn't speak badly of your teachers."

"But it's true," said Gadget. "He terrorizes all of his students and no one ever does anything about it! The only reason we pass our classes is because of the support of the other teachers. They help keep us sane when we're working our butts off."

"And they have to keep reminding Globetrotter that he has to pass some students, otherwise it might start looking bad on his record," Peter put in. "He just likes making things as hard as possible."

"He's... not all that bad," murmured Teresa. "When you get to know him."

But no one else could agree.

"I know that Brain can be a bit... harsh, but I don't think he means to hurt anyone," Pinky said.

"That's easy for you to say," Peter continued. "You're a teacher. Try being one of his students."

"It's not easy, Mr. Pinky," said Teresa. "There's a reason why we come to your classes so often."

"It's a solace," said Penelope. "From him."

"And from the workload," mentioned Gadget. "Also, you're just... super cool," she added, smiling at him.

"Yeah, you're awesome, Mr. Pinky," said Red.

"Yeah, you're so cool!" they all pitched in.

"He's the best," Olivia said, giving Pinky a tight squeeze of a side hug.

Pinky sniffed, blinking back tears.

"Awwww. Thank you all. Narf! I love you, too!" he sniffed again, wiping at his face.

Every face around the campfire was bright, and beaming, and smiling, the love in the room so thick one could cut it with a knife. Pinky had never felt so appreciated in his life, and he wondered if this was the work of the "magnet"... or if it was really real. Somehow, deep down, he didn't think even a super special device could work magic like this. It felt honest. Pure.

"May I ask for your advice on something?" queried Pinky, swallowing and smiling back at them all.

"Sure. Go ahead!" they agreed.

"Well, you see, Olivia here needs her baseball stadium built. And we all want sports to come back to the school, right?"

"Yeah!" exclaimed some of the students. Some, not all.

"Well, the principal said that he would do it, but only if we could get Globetrotter to come to the teachers' Halloween party this weekend."

"On Saturday?" asked Gadget.

"Mmhm. And that's in two days and I still haven't thought of a way of getting him to come. But I thought, well, maybe you guys would have some ideas?"

A steady silence draped across the class as they thought long and hard about this.

"Hmmm. What if you bribed him?" offered Gadget. "Like... offer to pay for something he really wants or whatever if he'll come to the party?"

"Mmmm... maybe. He does like nice things, but I don't think that would work," said Pinky sadly.

"He's right," Peter said. "It takes a lot to bribe Globetrotter. I don't think he'd fall for it."

"What if you... you... asked the... the prince-pal to make him come?" squeaked little Cynthia.

"The principal is the one who wants Pinky to do the asking, Cynthia," said Timothy.

"You could... like... drag him there," Marvell joked. "Tie a bunch of ropes around him and stuff."

"Yeah, like, blackmail him!" voiced a boy hamster named Lucas. "Tell him that you'll show them the pictures if he doesn't attend the party."

"The pictures?" asked Pinky confusedly, cocking his head.

"Yeah, like in the movies! You know how they'll like... say to someone: 'Hey. I've got these embarrassing pictures of you, and if you don't do what I want then I'll show them to everybody!'"

"Oh..."

"Too strong," said Marvell.

"Yeah, that's too much," agreed Gadget.

"Wait... Wait," said Peter, sitting up straight. "What if... you scare him?"

"Scare him?" asked Pinky.

"But Globetrotter isn't scared of anything!" Teresa voiced.

"No, okay. Wait. Listen: What if there is something that scares him? He prizes his dignity, right? What if you scared him into feeling like he's missing out or that he's not "cool enough" or something if he doesn't go to the party?"

"I dunno...," Pinky hesitated.

"Oh my gosh. Wait. That's actually kinda brilliant," Gadget added. "Like... make it sound like only the most elite are going to go to this party."

"But everyone's going to the party!" Pinky said. "Even me!"

"Then tell him there's gonna be an awards ceremony or something - only the best will get noticed and he's got to be there."

"B-But... I didn't organize a ceremony with it!"

"Then make one up!" Lucas said.

"Yeah, just make one up!" agreed Peter. "He'll be tripping over himself just to look as dope as possible!"

"Yeah, you should do it!" others joined in.

Pinky looked nervous. He wasn't a liar. He'd have to add a ceremony last minute.

"Please, Mr. Pinky?" Olivia asked, laying a delicate paw on his.

He stared at her and sighed, smiling. How could he resist those eyes?

"All right," he whispered, first to her, then to the whole group: "All right. I'll do it!"

Shouts of "woo!"s and "yaaaay!"s resounded about their comfy forest campfire. It was settled.

Pinky breathed out another heavy sigh, smoothing his hair back in trepidation.

"Phew. I hope I don't regret this! Eheheh!"

"Don't worry. He's too egotistical to think about anyone other than himself," Gadget said as she roasted a marshmallow. "There's no way he'll be able to resist."

"Yeah. If there's anything Globetrotter loves more than himself, it's laudation," said Peter.

But that, Pinky thought, is where Peter was wrong. He didn't think Globetrotter loved himself. In fact, from what he could see, it was the exact opposite.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

October 29th, 1993 - 7:29 PM

As it happened, Pinky waited until the last possible second to throw his offer to Globetrotter, partially because he was scared, and partially because... Well, all right. If he was being honest with himself, all of it was because he was scared. He wasn't as intimidated by Globetrotter as the students were, but there were still times when he felt like he'd get his hand bitten off if he didn't play his cards right.

Mercifully, Globetrotter was in a good mood tonight, as Pinky quickly discovered as he slipped past the laboratory entrance. The part mathematician, part science teacher kicked his feet back and forth in his gray computer chair, the seat squeaking about, happy little skips punctuating his typing as he smiled at the green-tinted monitor satisfactorily.

"Afternoon," he greeted Pinky, the lanky professor making to sit down in his usual corner spot on the floor near the bookcase. (There was only one chair, and Brian couldn't be bothered to buy a second.) "Pinky, I have just made a breakthrough of paramount proportions!"

"Ooooo. What is it, Brain?"

"It is far too intellectual for your primitive mind to comprehend," said Globetrotter cheerily as he hopped out of his chair and paced around the room. Not even a mispronunciation of his name could bother him this time. "But I can assure you that it will aid deeply in furthering along our plan!"

"Egad! Brilliant, Brain!" Pinky exclaimed, his legs criss-crossed and his hands tucked into them as he gazed up at Globetrotter in awe.

"Yes, I find it quite impressive myself," Globetrotter mused as he rubbed at his nails haughtily. "It's a shame the school doesn't recognize such talent; otherwise, I very likely wouldn't have to hide these contraptions behind walls."

There was his opening. Pinky took a deep breath.

"You know, y-you're right, Brain."

"Hm?" Globetrotter hummed, turning around to stare at Pinky.

"I was just saying that I think you're right, Brain! It's absolutely a crime that they don't recognize your true intelligence and ingeniousness. Downright despicable!"

Globetrotter raised an eyebrow, but otherwise continued on as normal.

"Yes. As long as I am confined within these halls, I am doomed to forever be seen as a mere academic professional. At least I've attained some form of respect amongst my colleagues."

"You know, it's a shame that you won't be coming to the party, Brain, what with the awards ceremony and all that," Pinky mused, copying Brian's little "finger studying" technique, eyes half-lidded in an attempt to look positively bored out of his mind about the whole matter.

"Awards ceremony...? What ceremony?"

"Hm? Oh, I thought you knew, Brain?"

"I do not. You never mentioned a ceremony."

"Hmph," Pinky shrugged. "Must have slipped my mind at the time. Everyone's been talking about it. They're going to be giving out trophies to the most acclaimed faculty members. 'Most Influential.' 'Most Respected' and all that..."

"Huh."

"Everyone's going, as far as I know," Pinky continued, as nonchalantly as possible, as he picked dirt out from under his nails. "But I understand you not wanting to attend. It's kind of a silly idea. People are saying that Basil is probably going to win 'Most Knowledgeable' and probably some other trophies as it is, so I don't think there'll be much competition. Zort..."

"Basil?! That nincompoop? He can barely tell the difference between polyester and palladium!"

Pinky simply shrugged again.

"Like I said, Brain. It's not your cup of tea."

Brain snorted, looking contemplative. He angrily stuck his hands in his pockets as his thoughts stuck firmly to everything Pinky had just said.

Parties, especially costume ones, were pointless. Stupid. A complete waste of time. He'd rather be counting dominoes than humiliating himself in front of a bunch of idiots who had nothing better to do than flash nails and tip bottles. He half-wondered if Pinky was pulling his leg; after all, why would Basil, of all people, attend such a soiree, if it could even be called that? Both he and Mr. Ages had said they would never be caught dead at such an event. Then again, it wasn't the first time he'd known Basil to say he wouldn't do one thing only to end up doing it anyway. He remembered the disco party pictures of '89...

His eyes shifted furtively to Pinky, who had busied himself with a very dusty book from the shelf: How to Win Friends and Influence People. Brian sighed.

"Perhaps I should rethink my decision..."

"Hm? Come again?" Pinky asked, only half-heartedly looking up from his book.

"I said that I...," Brian blurted out, then sighed, trying to calm down. "Fine. I'll go to your stupid party."

"REALL-," Pinky began, then coughed, getting a hold of himself, eyes shifting in the hopes that Globetrotter hadn't noticed. "I mean, that's cool. Sounds good."

"But I'm not dressing up."

"Oh, that's okay! I'm probably not going to either. Eheh. Poit."

Nothing more was said for the rest of the night, Pinky retiring early at the stroke of 8:00 PM with the excuse that he needed to "catch up on his sleep". As soon as he was past the wall, he leaned against it, slid down a little, and siiiiiighed...

PHEW.

Goodness.

He buried his face in his hands. That was the most he'd ever lied since he was eighteen years old and had told his dad that he'd simply dented the truck when he'd actually totaled it. He made a note in his head to tell as many teachers as possible tomorrow that there was going to be an awards ceremony and that he would be holding it. He'd have to get to school extra early. No matter. It was worth it. Olivia and her baseball stadium were worth it.

Gathering himself, he shakily whistled a monotonous little tune and headed for the stairwell.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

October 30th, 1993 - 5:30 PM

A 1980s Dodge Caravan, its long, green stripe wrapping around its battered and bruised body, whined a little as it pulled up to 2154 Whipple St. Inside, the shuffling of paper crinkled about as a large map of Burbank was laid out over the steering wheel, a finger snaking steadily over it as it searched for its destination. A-ha. There it was. It tapped satisfactorily at a specific point on the map. Yes, this was definitely the place.

A lanky mouse in a yellow and orange striped suit, complete with boater hat and cane, stepped out of the vehicle, not bothering to lock it as he stepped past the neatly-trimmed lawn, rows of azaleas, and romantically-lit fountain to tread his long, flat feet under an archway and upon the red brick porch of a spotless two-story house. Clearing his throat, he extended a finger, rang the doorbell, and waited.

Globetrotter, it turned out, had not showed up for his Saturday morning class. Nor, it seemed, for his 1:00 PM session. In fact, he hadn't made an appearance at the school at all that day. The students, of course, considered this a blessing. Pinky, however, had grown worried. Had something happened? He didn't get the call until 4:00 PM. Not only had his car stalled, as Globetrotter had angrily explained over the pay phone, but it had to be taken to the shop for repairs. Globetrotter had been stuck at the shop for hours and would have to walk home, of all things. Pinky, of course, had offered to take him home himself, but Globetrotter had flat out refused. It was embarrassing enough to miss his own classes, let alone receive transportation services. At least he still had control of his feet.

And so Pinky had dropped the matter, offering, at the very least, to pick Brian up half-an-hour prior to the party, to which Globetrotter had neither refused nor given the go-ahead. He simply assumed that after a bit of rest, he might still want to attend, and so here he was, standing upon Brian's doorstep, hoping that he'd be in the mood to at least spend an hour or two in festive enjoyment.

It took a full minute for Globetrotter to answer the door, and when he did it was in his bright red smoking jacket and half-moon glasses, complete with steaming coffee mug and a very worn out expression indeed.

"Afternoon!" Pinky waved, as cheerily as possible.

Globetrotter looked him up and down, as if trying to register the fact that someone was standing on his doorstep (and with a cane and boating hat, no less), as he gave him a slow, sleepy blink of the eyes, his mouth slightly open.

"Evening," Brian corrected. "What are... are...," he dragged out, interrupted by a wide, gaping yawn. "What are you doing here?"

"Um. It's the Halloween party tonight! Remember, Brain? Yo-You said you'd come..."

Brian sighed.

"Pinky, I had to walk half an hour to my house from the shop in my good suit and pants in eighty-five degree weather in the middle of the city. I have no idea when my car is going to be repaired, nor if I'll be able to get to work on Monday, or if I'll even still have a job by next week. So if you think, that after all that, I'd still want to go to some dumb employee party late into the night, you've got another thing coming."

Each word of this spiel had become more and more punctuated as it went on, Brian's voice rising just slightly higher with each enunciated syllable, and Pinky's ears drooping further and further down the longer he spoke, until they were practically flat against his head. Globetrotter ignored this.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I shall bid you good night," he ended, making to close the door.

But something kept it from shutting. A foot.

Brian looked up into the face of the culprit, and Pinky looked so positively pitiful, so desperately forlorn, that even he, the most ruthless professor in all of Burbank (and quite possibly California), couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of guilt.

"Please, Brain?" whimpered the heart-broken mouse.

Something stirred in Globetrotter. Something... he couldn't explain. He'd felt it before in front of this individual. Pity, was it? Or, dare he say it, compassion? Whatever it was, it wouldn't leave. It was positively annoying.

Brian sighed again.

"Fine," he relented. "It's not like this day could get any worse anyway. Might as well cap it off..."

"So you'll come?!" Pinky exclaimed excitedly, his frown replaced with a bright and innocent smile.

"Don't get too comfortable," Brian warned. "This is the first and last party I attend at this school. Got it?"

"Yes, Brain! I've got it! Oh, thank you, Brain!"

And he actually hugged him.

Brian simply stood there, stunned, as he was quite suddenly and tightly embraced. He gasped as Pinky let go of him, gazing up into those brilliantly blue eyes for a moment before smoothing out his jacket, pointing a shaky finger at the mouse, and stating, in the most shocked tone possible, "Don't... do that again."

"Hm hm. Sorry, Brain!" Pinky chuckled, smiling.

"I'll... get my coat," muttered Globetrotter after a pause, looking somewhat lost as he wandered almost drunkenly into his sitting room... and leaving the front door wide open.

"May I come in?" Pinky asked, peeking his head 'round the frame to peer into the elaborately-decorated front room.

"Uhhhh... Sure," Brian admitted him, strolling past the sitting area and into a side room, where he flicked on a light. Pinky could hear him shuffling about in a closet for his coat.

With a gay little hop, Pinky skipped across the welcome mat and into the main entryway, taking care to shut out the dry and slightly humid air. Stepping down tenderly onto the thin, cream-colored carpet (which was absolutely free of any spot or blemish whatsoever), he sat down in a newly upholstered chair and went about studying the room.

His first impression was that this was a place that equal parts had definite aspects of Globetrotter's personality... and also felt nothing like him at all. If anything, it looked like something his mother or a housewife would have had a hand in. The sitting room was rectangular in shape, with four thick white and rose-patterned ottomans surrounding a mahogany table set with a couple of heavy books on scientific theories, plus one magazine on Godiva Chocolates. Against one wall lay a forest green couch, flanked on either side by cherry wood bookshelves and a warm lamp. Indeed, the place seemed to be dotted with bookshelves here and there, all of them filled to the brim with tomes, novels, magazines, and, strangely, bad romance fiction. Tastefully peppered about the walls themselves were hyper-realistic, black-and-white illustrations of various "shots of life" - a man fishing; patrons in a coffee shop; a woman waiting longingly for someone at a train station. And somewhere, in a distant room, he could hear the sounds of what he assumed to be Mozart or Bach playing lightly. He never cared for Classical much, but still hummed along and tapped his hands upon his knees to the tune all the same.

Pinky stared up at the high ceiling, which, he knew, most likely hid a second floor. He'd noticed the steps to his left upon entering the house. He longed to explore more of this interesting abode, but knew that it would be rude to ask, and so he simply sat quietly as Globetrotter picked out just the right coat.

He turned at a sharp cough.

To Pinky, "throwing on a coat" would have meant exactly that, regardless of the under-attire. Globetrotter, however, was decked out in his absolute best: iron-pressed black pants, a fancy suit and tie with a black overcoat, and dance shoes that clicked and clacked across the upper wooden floor. He looked, for lack of a better word, snazzy.

"Ooooo. You look riveting, Brain!"

"I think the proper term you're looking for is 'ravishing'," Globetrotter corrected, buttoning up his jacket. "Can we get this over with?"

"Right-o, Brain!" said Pinky, standing up and making for the door. "Your house is lovely, by the way. Poit! Did you design it yourself?"

"Thank you," came Globetrotter's dry reply. "And, yes, I added most of the decorations."

"Smashing!"

Globetrotter gave him a look and rolled his eyes. He made it a point to turn off every single light in the house, as well as the music, before exiting along with Pinky. They stepped over the doormat.

"And your mat is very lovely, too," Pinky commented, admiring the very cozy, cursive "Home Sweet Home" writing, complete with roses.

"Thank you. My mother bought it for me...," said Globetrotter, a slight groan in his voice.

Pinky stifled a chuckle. Well, he'd been right about the motherly touch.

The distant sound of traffic could be heard as they skipped (or, in Globetrotter's case, trudged) across the well-kept yard and up to Pinky's not-so-well-kept clunker. Like a gentleman, Pinky insisted that he open Globetrotter's door for him, but Globetrotter refused.

"I'm perfectly capable of opening my own door," he replied, opening it up, sliding into the leather passenger seat, and slamming the door shut behind him.

Pinky frowned sadly at this, but otherwise shook it off as he slipped into the driver's seat, closed his own door, and started the car... and not without some difficulty. It took a few tries to get the engine churning properly. Globetrotter wrinkled his nose, repulsed, not just at the age of the vehicle, but at its smell, which reeked of old pizza. It hadn't been kept particularly clean either. Brian nudged aside a stray straw wrapper on the ground with his foot. He noticed something else: the stress ball he'd given back to Pinky. It had been tucked into an empty pocket beneath the car radio. He felt a twinge of regret at this. In an attempt to get his mind off of such a feeling, he turned his attention back to the car.

"This is how you travel?" he queried, arms folded, not at all amused. "Incredible."

"Why, thank you! She does get a little tired from long trips, but you can make it there and back, can't you, old girl?" encouraged the lanky mouse.

Sure enough, the third time was the charm.

"Atta girl, Phar!"

"Phar?"

"Mmhm! I named her Pharfignewton, like in the commercials!"

Globetrotter rolled his eyes. Incredible. He highly doubted this thing could get them from his house to the closest gas station, much less all the way to the party. As if things couldn't get any worse. But then Pinky put in the CD.

"Woo! Let's get ready to rumbllllllle!" Pinky shouted out, Brian covering his ears as "Back in the U.S.S.R." began to blaze out of the speakers, bouncing off the windows, doors, seats, and into the deepest crevices of Brian's eardrums.

"Really? The Beatles?!" he protested loudly. He had to shout; one could barely hear themselves talk, let alone think, over the blasting drums and guitar chords.

Pinky answered... in falsetto.

"Ohhh!

Flew in from Miami Beach B.O.A.C. Didn't get to bed last night On the way the paper bag was on my knee Man, I had a dreadful flight

I'm back in the U.S. .!"

Click!

"Hey!"

Gone was the thumping sounds of pure noise; welcomed was the stirring imagery of the Pastoral Symphony. Good-bye, Beatles. Hello, Beethoven.

Brian sank back into his seat, breathing out a deep sigh of relief as he let the Classical radio tunes wash over him like a hot shower.

"Hmph. Driver chooses the music, Brain."

"And my eardrums choose the pitch. Obviously, that one was not fit to relent."

Pinky opened his mouth... then shut it, resolving to pout instead. He knew it would have been more polite to allow his guest access to the radio in the first place, but he had been hoping Brain might like his taste in music. He wasn't particularly in the mood for Classical. Oh well. Perhaps they'd play something with a good beat at the party. Like Weird Al! Thinking about Al Yankovic playing his signature accordion made him perk up a bit, and by the time they reached Flaversham's house he was in a much better mood.

The first person that greeted him upon exiting the car was not a colleague, but Olivia. They had, after all, parked outside of Mrs. Frisby's house, owing to the crowded street surrounding Flaversham's place. She ran up to Pinky and hugged him.

"Mr. Pinky! You came!"

"Oof! Ha-ha. Hello, Olivia!" Pinky greeted fondly, wrapping his arms around her.

Globetrotter shut the door behind him with a snap, glad to be rid of the car and the lingering scent that came with it.

"Are you coming to my party?" Olivia asked, looking up eagerly into the face of her very tall and ivory friend. She was dressed in the most interesting attire: a striped shirt, long checkerboard pants, a white lab coat, and half-rimmed glasses, complete with note board and pen, upon which she seemed to have taken down the names of all those in attendance at her party. She still wore the tam-o-shanter.

"Oh, Olivia, I told you I was going to the adult party," Pinky admitted, petting her softly on the back.

Olivia's ears drooped.

"But I'll try and pop in later, okay?"

She smiled and hugged him again. Globetrotter wrinkled his nose at the tender scene, eyes rolling as he shook his head.

"Thank you, Mr. Pinky."

"Olivia, what are you supposed to be?" Pinky asked, loving her attire, but absolutely clueless as to who she was mimicking.

"You don't know? I'm you!" she beamed.

"Oh...," Pinky hiccuped, blushing pink from his ears down to the tip of his tail.

"See you later!" Olivia waved, heading back into the house, which was looking very inviting, indeed.

Tiny little decorative lamps lit the way up to the wee abode, which looked more like a cottage than anything, a warm and orange-ish glow emanating from the open door and windows. Now and then a kid could be seen running past the door, and Mrs. Frisby herself waved at them from the entrance.

"Hello, Mr. Pinky! Mr. Globetrotter!"

"Hello, Mrs. Frisby!" Pinky greeted. Globetrotter said nothing, but simply nodded to her in acknowledgement.

"Are you going to Flaversham's party?"

"Yup! I kind of wish I was going to Olivia's, though! Ha-ha! Troz!"

"Well, you're welcome to stop by anytime. We're making cupcakes later!"

"Yeah, and I'm putting on the frosting!" Olivia piped up, peeking in from behind Frisby.

"We'll stop by later, okay?" Pinky called out to them.

"As will I!" said Mrs. Frisby.

Pinky waved good-bye as he and Globetrotter headed across the street and down the concrete path towards Flaversham's.

"We?" Globetrotter inquired, giving Pinky the eye.

"You don't want a cupcake, Brain?" asked Pinky sincerely, looking at him with genuine concern.

"I'll pass," muttered the scientist. Already he was getting that uncomfortable feeling in his nether regions that most definitely meant a trip to the facilities would be in order soon. He was starting to regret agreeing to this...

Stepping up the dimly-lit crimson brick steps leading to the three-level house, Pinky shuffled onto the welcome mat, Brian right beside him, and rang the doorbell.

Flaversham answered almost immediately, decked out in Pilgrim attire.

"Well, well, it's the organizer! Hello there, Mr. Pinkus!" he greeted him cheerfully, noticing only Pinky at first as he shook his hand.

"Evening, Mr. Flaversham!" Pinky replied excitedly, gently bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet like a little child.

"Oh, and who do you have with y- OH! M-Mr. Globetrotter!" Flaversham jumped.

"Evening," Globetrotter drolled.

"Well, I...," Flaversham gulped and laughed nervously. "I-I didn't expect you to be here! I mean, n-not that we don't want you to be here, of course!"

Globetrotter blinked very slooooowly as Flaversham tripped over his tongue something terrible. Fifteen years. Fifteen years he'd known this lily-livered numbskull; this absolutely pitiful excuse for a teacher who somehow made a six-figure salary next to his measly five, yet couldn't defend himself for peanuts. In Globetrotter's eyes, if you didn't have the mental brawn along with the brain then what even was the point?

"Um... What are you supposed to be, M-Mr. Globetrotter?" Flaversham somehow pressed on, wringing his hands together.

"Your worst nightmare," Globetrotter replied. It was meant in jest, but he knew Flaversham wouldn't see it that way, and he grinned inwardly at the professor's response.

"Oh, dear...," Flaversham muttered, looking even more shaken up than he already was.

The restlessness in the air was palpable, and Pinky, feeling the tension, quickly butt in.

"I can help set up the games if you'd like!" Pinky offered encouragingly, to which Flaversham smiled while shaking his head and holding up a hand.

"Oh. N-No need, Mr. Pinky. I can do it. Why don't you go help Mrs. Judson in the kitchen? She might need assistance with the pies, I think."

"Sure! Come on, Brain!" Pinky readily agreed, stepping lightly over the threshold and heading for what he assumed to be the kitchen, soaking in the fascinating decorum along the way.

Globetrotter, however, remained standing on the welcome mat. He stared at Flaversham, as if waiting for something.

"W-Won't you come in?" Flaversham offered, stepping aside fully to allow Globetrotter entrance.

"Thank you," said Globetrotter.

It was with great hesitancy that he tipped into the house, and what a house it was.

This wasn't the first time he'd walked across this hardwood floor. Five years ago he'd found himself in the same house, albeit for a completely different reason that was now lost to memory. But he'd certainly remembered the look of the place. Not much had changed. The three-story abode was the very definition of "mahogany overload" - the floors, the tables, the chairs, the cabinets, the bookshelves, the picture frames, the door frames, the doors themselves, the cuckoo clock on the wall in the adorable little dining room... Everything was mahogany. The layout and style was very similar in taste to that of Globetrotter's, save for being a bit more... eccentric. Flaversham was a renowned inventor as well as a professor, and it showed. There were little gadgets and gizmos in every room in the house, from self-cleaning toilets to robotics that made coffee just the way you liked it. Minus the strange contraptions, Globetrotter was actually quite jealous. His house was nice, but it was just that to him: nice. He wanted the best, and Flaversham had it. Globetrotter knew that he eventually would, as well, but that took time. Lots and lots of time.

He milled about, hands in his pockets, as Flaversham closed the door and dashed off to finish conversing with Mr. Bernard on the topic of breeding different tomato strains. Despite the enormity of the house, the place was packed. One never realizes just how many employees work under the same roof until they're actually under one roof, and this instance was a perfect example. Almost everyone was here, from tall, stuck-up Basil to the short little janitors Jaq and Gus. But of course Pinky would have invited them, Globetrotter thought, disgusted. Anyone within a hundred mile radius with the gumption to wave back at him if he said hello would automatically be on the party list...

Even the janitors, however, were dressed to the nines; well, for janitors, at least. Everyone was decked out in some sort of costume, but most all were tasteful or classy. He caught Basil in a detective's outfit ("You brought that old thing?" Dawson chuckled in jest to Basil as they greeted one another), Bernard and Bianca in very fashionable 1930s attire, and Amos, the Meteorology teacher, was unsurprisingly sporting a rather lavish wig, tiny bifocals, and a very 1700s suit (it was common knowledge that Dr. Amos revered the works of Benjamin Franklin). He nodded curtly to the occasional colleague that passed his way, feeling equal parts elevated that he hadn't stooped to levels of make-up and Halloween dress... and embarrassed for ironically feeling a bit out of place. No one stopped to talk with him. In fact, most gave him a wide berth, looking shocked that he'd showed up at all. Those that did greet him either did so out of supposed necessity or simple fear, and while it was certainly nice to feel respected, parties were absolutely not where he was in his element. Already he was feeling a bit claustrophobic, which did nothing to ease that tight sensation in his abdomen. It was only a matter of time before he'd have to dash for the facilities.

Flaversham made it a point early on to all the guests that there was a big fat box resting on a podium in a far corner of the living room, and that every participant was encouraged to write down their choice of teachers for the ten categories listed so as winners might be chosen for the awards ceremony. Globetrotter made a mental note not to participate.

Uncertain of where to go next, and wanting to free himself from the tight and chatty quarters, he made a spur of the moment decision to head for the kitchen, squeezing uncomfortably past Dawson and security guard Mappy (He invited the security guard?, Globetrotter thought), and slipping quietly into the kitchen.

The sizeable kitchen, though not as packed as the rest of the house, still housed a fair number of guests, and yet, despite the good number of party-goers in the room, the very first individual Globetrotter's eyes landed on was Pinky. Perhaps he was just so used to his lanky frame that he was a breeze to spot. At the moment, the Trozology teacher was helping Mrs. Judson with the baking, both of them suited up with frilly pink and yellow aprons.

"I'm just not sure if adding the cinnamon will be too strong or...," Mrs. Judson mused, looking a wee bit frazzled.

"Well, see, I think it would come out much better if you added some of this!" Pinky offered, squeezing a bit of lemon into the mix.

"Why, I didn't even think of lemon. Thank you, Mr. Pinkus," Judson smiled, finishing off the main ingredients with a flourish and popping the pie into the oven. "You know, you'd make an excellent chef."

"My mother always said that! But I felt more comfortable with Trozology," Pinky grinned in turn, untying his apron and tossing it over his shoulder before wiping his hands on a nearby towel.

"What is Trozology?" Mrs. Judson asked, not bothering with a towel and instead simply wiping her hands on her skirt and apron. "I never asked."

Globetrotter had begun to walk over to them, but froze in place at this question. If he didn't interrupt, perhaps he'd finally hear the answer to this puzzling question. He'd asked Pinky himself, of course, what it was, and on several occasions, whenever he did remember to do so, but by some strange force of nature or spirits or what-have-you, Pinky's answer was always cut short. Maybe this time, though, he wouldn't be? He cocked an ear...

"Oh! Well," Pinky began, more than happy to explain. "It's quite simple, really. It's actually the study o-"

"RONALD! My dear boy!" came a booming voice out of nowhere.

Emerging from the crowd in the most pompous of airs, fully gowned in an ebony and crimson outfit reminiscent of a vampire, or, perhaps, a Count, was Snowball. The only thing missing was a cigar. He flounced up to Pinky and patted him a little too hard on the back, completely unaware that Globetrotter was glaring daggers at him behind his back.

"Ha-ha! The man of the hour. I must say, I don't know why I ever stopped throwing these tasteful galas. They're quite fun! Except for the apple bobbing. I didn't particularly care for that..."

"I'm... I'm glad you're having fun, Mr. Principal!" Pinky responded, sounding gleeful but looking rather nervous. He hadn't forgotten the last time he'd seen this hamster, and it hadn't exactly been pleasant.

"Please, call me Snowball," insisted the principal.

In the back, Globetrotter was having a particularly difficult time of it trying not to keep his eyeballs from popping out of his head, so shocked was he at the presence of this unsightly rival. He made it a point to avoid the principal at all costs whenever he was in the school. Had he known Snowball would be here he definitely wouldn't have come. Had Pinky known, or had he conveniently left that part out?

It was at this moment that Snowball very inconveniently turned around.

"Why, Brain!" he beamed, grinning wide to reveal two particularly sharp, elongated fake teeth taking up the front end of his mouth.

Yup. Definitely a vampire.

He stepped up to the science teacher, cape swishing behind him dramatically as Globetrotter simply stood there, brow furrowed and arms crossed.

"What an absolute delight to see you here! I hear that's your new nickname, is it not? Brain? Brain... Has a rather egotistical ring to it, does it not?" Snowball smirked.

"Hello, Bally," Globetrotter sneered, effectively cleaning the smile off the hamster's face.

"You know I don't like being called that," the principal replied in a much lower tone of voice.

"Oh, don't you?" Globetrotter mocked, swiftly donning a fake pout. "I'm sorry, I thought you enjoyed being reminded of how much you like to dominate."

"Globetrotter!" Mrs. Judson hissed, but no one else seemed to mind or care. In fact, no one was listening to the sparking conversation at all aside from Pinky and Mrs. Judson, the former of whom seemed quite uncomfortable indeed.

"At least I'm not afraid to take full advantage of opportunistic situations," Snowball leered, that smarmy grin playing across his face one more. "So that I don't find myself on the bottom."

"Alllllll right. That's it!" Mrs. Judson intervened, physically stepping between the two of them and pushing them away from one another. "Enough of that talk. You two should be ashamed of yourselves."

Snowball just smirked.

"You still have a chance to redeem yourself, Brain! If not in life, then perhaps this evening? I look forward to seeing your results during the awards."

"You can count on it!" Globetrotter snapped, as Snowball, still grinning, melted into the crowd, winking at Pinky on the way out as he disappeared into another room, leaving his old colleague to stand there, fuming.

"Hmph," Mrs. Judson huffed, hands on her hips. "Well, I never. Globetrotter, you should be ashamed of yourself."

"For what?! He started it!"

"And you encouraged him! Mr. Pinky," she redirected, turning to the puzzled teacher. "I don't know why you invited him, of all creatures. He causes nothing but trouble."

"But I didn't...," answered Pinky meekly, and it was true.

Well, wait. No..., he thought. That wasn't entirely factual. He had bribed the Headmaster with a special spot in the party if he signed Olivia's petition, although, to be fair, Snowball hadn't gone for it.

"Snowball would have invited himself regardless," Globetrotter pitched in. "He takes whatever he wants."

The capsaicin in his tone was unmistakable. Mrs. Judson simply "hmph-ed" again and walked off. Pinky looked from Brain... to where Snowball had disappeared... and back again. He couldn't make out anything of what had just happened. There could be a number of plausible explanations, and his brain wouldn't settle on just one. Snowball had seemed so excited about Brain being invited to the party, so why were they at each other's throats? Had he made a mistake?

Globetrotter turned swiftly 'round to glare at Pinky.

"Why didn't you tell me he was coming?!" he bit, causing Pinky to wince. "At least give me a warning!"

"I... I'm sorry, Brain," Pinky whimpered, hanging his head and rubbing his arm. "I didn't think it would matter. He seemed so excited about you coming!"

"And now you know why," Globetrotter bit. "I should've known you'd make so asinine of a mistake. At least I have an opportunity get him back. 'Not afraid to take full advantage". Ha! I'll show him taking advantage."

"Come again..?"

"The show, Pinky. The show. When I sweep the awards that undignified meadowlark won't be able to put a finger on me!" Globetrotter chuckled to himself, rubbing his hands together evilly. "At least you did one thing right this evening. That hamster is going down."

And with that, he stomped off after Snowball, leaving Pinky to stand very much alone in a sea of people, ears down, tail limp, and heart very much conflicted.

/\/\/\/\/\

The rest of the evening went quite predictably, as parties go. Food was eaten. Games were played. A pie was burnt. Gossip was shared and stories were exchanged. And absolutely no one could beat Basil at Poker.

Pinky socialized with most anyone and everyone, occasionally tossing a concerned glance in Globetrotter's direction. The science teacher hadn't spoken once to him since the kitchen incident, instead opting to trail Snowball wherever he went - close enough that the Headmaster knew he was there, but not so close that the hamster could launch a sarcastic grenade in his direction. Now and again, Snowball would participate in a friendly game of pool or shuffleboard. Every time, he invited Globetrotter to join. Every time, against his better judgement, Globetrotter relented... and lost, growing more and more irritated with each escaped victory. The hamster didn't seem to mind the mouse's sour attitude. Indeed, he appeared to be practically relishing in Globetrotter's humiliation. Most party-goers simply ignored the angry little rodent. Everyone knew he was difficult to please and prone to bouts of outrage. Why tempt the beast? But Pinky didn't see a beast. He saw a broken, frustrated, self-doubting little creature that was hurting and taking it out on everyone, including himself. The pain in his eyes wasn't difficult to see. He was all too familiar with it.

Meanwhile, Globetrotter found himself increasingly frustrated. Despite his initial resistance, out of exacerbation he wandered up to the podium. Already a healthy helping of papers had been ripped off of a little notepad and stuffed into the large, black box. The notepad seem to have been custom-made, for on it was a list of ten subjects, ranging from "Most Popular Teacher" to "Fastest Grader". Globetrotter scoffed at the list. It all seemed very trivial and rather haphazardly put together, but his eyes still landed on the "Most Popular Teacher" award. For some reason, he imagined his name next to it, even though popularity was the last thing he wanted. If there had been a "Most Respected Teacher" award (which, despite Pinky saying there would be one, there wasn't) he would have been bold enough to put himself down for it and slip it into the box. He knew who was going to win "Most Popular", and it wasn't going to be him.

He sighed and looked furtively this way and that without turning his head.

He clicked his tongue.

"Hell...," he muttered, picking up a pencil on the podium and writing down 'Pinky', and only 'Pinky', for the "Most Popular" option. He didn't bother filling out the others. Popping it into the box, he ran a hand down his face as inconspicuously as possible, stepped away from the podium, and melted back into the crowd. It wasn't like anyone had noticed him there, or would care. Pinky certainly hadn't noticed, and that's what mattered most.

/\/\/\/\/\

At 7:03 PM, the doorbell rang. Flaversham answered it. It was Olivia.

"Oh! Olivia."

He bent down to her level and cupped a hand to his mouth.

"You know this is adults only, my dear," he whispered kindly to her.

"I know, Daddy! I just need to see... Mr. Pinky!" she gasped, swallowing heavily between "see" and "Mr.". It was obvious that she had just run all the way from Mrs. Frisby's house to hers.

"Hm. Just a moment. I'll go find him."

It did not take long.

"Hello, Olivia!" Pinky said, returning with Professor Flaversham and licking the tips of his fingers of what looked to be chocolate cake. "How's your party going?"

"Mmph. All right. Evinrude ate too many cupcakes, though," she huffed, folding her arms indignantly. "And Alphie had an accident and peed all over the floor."

"Alphie?"

"He goes to Cynthia's kindergarten class."

She motioned with a hand for Pinky to bend down to her level, which he did. She stepped up to his ear and whispered:

"I don't think he's potty trained."

Pinky chuckled a little and stood back up.

"I'll leave you two to it. I have to get back to my guests. Olivia, don't keep Mr. Pinky long, all right?" Flaversham said.

"I won't!" replied Olivia. Then she looked back up at Pinky. "I have a problem," she sighed.

"Oh?" asked Pinky, kneeling down to the ground so as she didn't have to crane her neck. "What is it?"

"May I borrow your box?"

"My box?"

"You know. The one from your class! It'll work anywhere, right?"

"Hmmmm. Oh! You mean the one we sit in when we go to different worlds, yes?"

"Yes! That's it!"

Pinky chuckled and leaned in. Now it was his turn to do the whispering.

"Well, Olivia. Let me tell you a secret: Any box works! Poit!"

"Really?" she gasped, pulling back, her eyes wide.

"Mmhm! All you have to do is think reeeaaally hard about where you want to go, and then you'll be there!"

"And everyone else, too?!"

"Mmmm... it does help if they're thinking hard, too, but if you concentrate deep enough you can do it for them!"

"I can?!"

"Yes! Ha-ha!"

"No way! I'm going to go try it out! Thank you, Mr. Pinky!" she exclaimed excitedly, hugging him about the neck before running back to Mrs. Frisby's in the crisp fall air, her little black shoes crunching across the leaf-infested street. "See you later! And thank you!"

"Have fun! Narf!" Pinky waved back, beaming. Spirits uplifted a little, he headed back inside, not noticing the black cab that pulled up to the curb.

The first thing that hit his nose upon reentering the house was a strong whiff of bourbon. His snout wrinkled at the scent. It was so potent he was surprised he hadn't smelled it back on the porch. Along with the bourbon came a hint of wine. As he milled about, he noticed that nearly everyone had a glass in their hand, courtesy of Flaversham, who, along with a couple of helpers, was passing around spirits. Even Mrs. Frisby, who must have slipped in earlier, could be seen with a tiny little cup of sparkling wine in hand, and the chatter in the room, coupled with smooth jazz music, had noticeably increased. Clearly, the actual party was starting.

"Spirits, Sir?" a stout little vole in a black suit and tie asked him, holding up a round platter of drinks as high as his tiny arms could reach. Pinky, after all, was a very tall mouse.

"Oh. No, thank you!" Pinky politely refused, holding up a hand. "I don't drink. Ha-ha."

The diminutive vole shrugged and skittered off, presumably to his next victim.

Pinky looked about. Everywhere was packed - the living room, the foyer, the second and third levels. Even the stairs themselves were occupied. Feeling a little claustrophobic, he headed for the kitchen.

As before, it wasn't as overrun as the other rooms, but Mrs. Judson looked exhausted all the same, sitting at the main dining table on the farthest side, a glass of red wine in one hand, the other hand fanning herself. Pinky wandered over to her.

"Did the chocolate cake come out all right?" he asked. "So sorry I wasn't there for the last bit to help!" And he looked genuinely sorry about it.

"Oh. Don't worry about it," she said thickly, hiccuping. "This isn't my first fete, and it won't be the last, I can assure you of that."

She took a sip of wine, and Pinky sat down next to her.

"So how are those two rascals gettin' along?"

"Who?" asked Pinky, ears twitching at the ringing of the doorbell.

"Globetrotter and Snowball. Are they still at one another's throats out there?"

"I think so."

"Heh. Typical," she scoffed, taking another sip.

"How long have you known Brain, Mrs. Judson?"

"Brain..?"

"Isn't that his first name?"

Mrs. Judson laughed.

"Brian, dear. Brian's his name!"

"Brian who?" asked Pinky, looking around as if to catch sight of this mysterious 'Brian'.

"Really, Mr. Pinky. You're not going to get on his good side mispronouncing his name, if he even has a good side..."

"I'm sorry. Who?"

"Globetrotter, of course. I'm surprised you rub shoulders with him," said Judson, chair creaking loudly as she leaned heavily back into it. "He's not exactly the amiable type."

"What is his type?"

"Hmph," Judson grunted, swirling her wine about. "I'd pin him as the 'don't give a shite' type. Fellow doesn't care about anyone except himself."

There it was again.

"That's not true," Pinky piped up in defense. "He loves the world, and everything in it!"

"Loves the world? Where you'd get that notion?" Mrs. Judson asked, looking at him quizzically.

"H-He told me. And I've seen him work... after hours, doing, you know, little things - things to help people. I truly believe Brain wants to make the world a better place."

Mrs. Judson leaned forward.

"Globetrotter doesn't care about anyone save for 'imself, love. I know you want to see the good in everyone, but some people just don't have that, deary." She sighed. "Two years ago, there was a girl in his class named Dandy. Very nice girl; very sweet girl. Wouldn't hurt a fly. But she wasn't the brightest in mathematics and, well, Globetrotter was particularly hard on her. Too hard. One day, I pop into one of the abandoned classrooms. Found her in the corner with some pills in her hand. I managed to stop her before she'd downed the whole lot. Now, I know that's an extreme case, but from what she told me what pushed her to the edge was him - told her she was a good for nothing; that she'd never go anywhere; constantly yelled at her in class, even outside of class; assigned her extra homework, more than all the other students. I never said anything to anyone, save for screamin' in his face about it one night. Told him he bloody near killed the girl. Dunno if it did much good, really."

Pinky gaped, wide-eyed.

"I... I knew that he yelled sometimes, and that his students don't really like him, but... I didn't know he did that. Zort..."

"He's not one to mess with, love," Judson said, leaning back into her chair once more. "There hasn't been an incident that bad since, but I still keep my eye on him now and then. We all have some demons to fight. I don't know what's his, but you see a poor soul ready to end her life because of a teacher and you tell me if that man is fit to teach. He might've been framed for manslaughter if she'd done it. One day it's all going to come back and bite him in the arse; mark my words. I almost pity 'im."

As she took another sip of wine, Pinky blinked and stared out into nothingness, contemplating all that Mrs. Judson had told him. Was Globetrotter really that bad...? He could someone with such good intentions be so cruel? And if he wasn't trying to take over the world for pure reasons then what was he trying to do? The guess he could harbor was one he didn't care to think about. He didn't want to believe what Mrs. Judson had said, but in his heart he knew she was telling the truth.

He got up from his chair.

"Excuse me," Pinky muttered.

Mrs. Judson looked at him in concern.

"You all right, love? I'm sorry. Perhaps that was a bit much to tell you."

"No no! I... I'm all right. Really," replied Pinky, forcing a smile.

Mrs. Judson wasn't convinced.

"Don't let it get you down, dear," she said, opting not to push it. "Focus on the good lot, like those children you teach. They're the ones who deserve all of your love, not a person who won't appreciate it. You're a good man, Ronald. Best teacher we've ever had, in fact."

"Thank you, Mrs. Judson," nodded Pinky, his smile genuine this time.

And he left, heading for the living room.

As expected, the place was still packed. Pinky chose a spot in a far corner of the congested living room - one of two plush red velvet chairs with a small black table in-between them, set in front of duo mahogany bookshelves. He sank into it and sighed. After the talk with Mrs. Judson, he was feeling particularly winded. Thoughts were raging through his mind like a lightning storm, causing his head to pound and his ears to ring. In an effort to calm himself, he opted to focus on the interesting things scattered about the room.

It was after an entire minute of scanning the area, gazing at the pictures on the walls and observing nearby conversations, that he noticed a familiar figure sitting in the plush chair next to him.

Brian T. Globetrotter sat with his hand propped up against his cheek, brow furrowed and feet dangling. Only now did Pinky realize that Globetrotter's suit was a bit too tight for him, his round stomach begging to protrude past the black cotton. There were deep bags under his eyes, and he sighed as if the entire weight of the world was on his shoulders. He looked utterly miserable. Pinky sank deeper into his chair, hoping the mouse hadn't noticed him, but...

"Some party," Globetrotter muttered, not looking at him.

Pinky said nothing.

"Never thought I'd see the day when a pawn would checkmate a king."

Pinky blinked.

"But I suppose I should have expected nothing less from a shark. Backstabbing, libidinous son of a-"

POP! went a champagne bottle, but Pinky still winced at the language.

An awkward pause passed by, in which Globetrotter tossed a glance or two in his colleague's direction, whereas Pinky determinedly looked everywhere but at Brian.

"You're unusually reticent," Globetrotter remarked, a bit sharply. "Bad Bourbon?"

"What..?" Pinky asked distantly, eyes wide and looking as if he'd just been injected with a heavy dose of bewilderment.

Brain frowned at him, but never got a chance to reply.

Claps and cheers resounded throughout the room. Tables and chairs were being pushed to the sides, with more being added from other spots in the house, guests taking seats wherever they could find one. Some remained standing out of necessity, others out of desire. Most all had a glass of wine, bourbon, or champagne to sip. In a corner opposite where Pinky and Brian sat, Flaversham stood in front of a pedestal (mahogany, of course), which was positioned on a raised part of the floor that made up a little one-step, upper area. Two tall wooden bookcases stood behind him, framing his lanky figure.

"All right! All right! Calm down, everyone!" Flaversham called out, clearing his throat. "Ahem. First, I'd like to thank you all for attending tonight's autumn get-together, which was graciously put together, as we all know, by Mr. Ronald Pinkus!"

He motioned to Pinky, who was still sitting in the red velvet chair next to Globetrotter. He grinned shyly and blushed, waving his fingers at the crowd, who exploded in genuine claps, whistles, and cheers.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say that our little party has been a resounding success," Flaversham continued.

"Hmph. Almost everyone," Globetrotter mumbled quietly, as the guests once again replied with hoots and hollers. Pinky heard him, however, and his ears drooped.

"But now that we are all filled with good food, good wine, and fun games, it's time for the grand event, also put together by Mr. Pinky!"

Pinky forced a smile as more claps were tossed his way. It was fortunate he'd been able to alert not only Flaversham, but most all those present in the room about his awards ceremony idea just hours before the actual party, which, in itself, had been a daunting task. "Please, don't tell anyone I came up with it last minute!" he'd asked everyone pre-party, wanting for it to come off as inconspicuous as possible to Globetrotter. All the same, his eyes kept flicking back and forth to the science teacher, hoping he wouldn't notice anything suspicious, which, thankfully, he didn't seem to. If anything, he'd sat up in his seat, looking rather uncomfortable.

"Excuse me," said Globetrotter, standing up and making for where he knew was the facilities.

Although he would never admit it out loud, one odd thing about Globetrotter was that he took note of where the bathrooms were in every single location he ever visited in the event that, should he ever return to said place, he'd immediately know where to run to whenever his bowels acted up. Flaversham's was no different. This particular restroom run was one he intended to keep short; the awards ceremony was the only thing he'd come for and, by Ptolemy, he was not going to miss it.

He made a beeline for the back of the house, left of the foyer and beyond the kitchen. He was half-way down an elegantly-carpeted hallway when he ran into the last person in the world he'd expected to meet.

"Eggy?"

"Billie?"

They both stopped and stared at one another, surprised as anything. She was dressed to the nines from top to bottom, a long purple boa covering part of what must have been a royally expensive mink fur coat and satin pink dress. He wasn't sure what drew more attention to her - the annoyingly echoing click of her high heels, the exceedingly large cartwheel sunhat to match the dress and shoes, or the yellow purse made of thick leather which absolutely did not match any part of the outfit. It was obvious she'd just come out of the bathroom herself - her make-up was far too fresh.

Billie sized him up and down before finally settling on a frown, crossing her arms, and leaning against the wall.

"Well. Fancy meeting you here."

"I could say the same...," Globetrotter grunted, playing the same card with an equally down-turned expression. "Snowball put you up to this?"

"You tell me. A man isn't satisfied unless he's embarrassed a girl at least twice."

"You know that was never my intention."

"Wasn't it?"

Globetrotter sighed. He didn't have time for this. Already, his bowels were threatening to burst. He was doing everything in his power not to dance around on the spot.

"Excuse me," he groaned, slipping past her and darting for the bathroom.

"Yeah, you run away, Eggy. Just like you ran away every other time!" she yelled after him as he slammed the mahogany door shut.

Inside, Brian shot to the toilet, barely able to undo his belt fast enough before absolutely exploding. He buried his face in his hands. Why, oh, why, had he ever agreed to this? Idiot. The busted car should have been a sign that the night would only get worse. Fate had been at the door and he'd tempted it.

Five minutes, one pill, and a healthy blast of citrus spray around the bathroom later, Globetrotter exited, taking with him a weary composure and an overwhelming desire to collapse into his warm bed back home. He had half a mind to "borrow" Pinky's keys and drive home without a backward glance, but stubbornness won out. He was going to attend the ceremony if it was the last thing he did, Billie or no Billie.

He tip-toed back out into civilization, past the kitchen, across the foyer... and that's where he stayed, for he could see Billie at the far end of the room and didn't wish to wander any closer. Pinky was still in his chair, twiddling his thumbs absently as he tried to hang onto Flaversham's words, and Snowball was leaning against a right-hand wall a few paces away, sipping at a glass of wine and looking absolutely smug about it. It was dangerous territory all around.

"So!" Flaversham announced. "Let's get started, shall we? Now, I have a few prizes here... that were whipped up from the local shopping establishments," he added, to a resounding wave of chuckles.

Globetrotter raised an eyebrow. Shopping establishments?

"First! We have a gift card to Pottery Barn! One hundred dollars!" Flaversham went on, pulling a card out from a hidden shelf on the podium and flashing it off to the crowd, some of whom "oooo-ed" and "ahhh-ed" at the desired trinket.

Globetrotter scowled. Pottery Barn?! They were handing out peasant prizes!

"First prize goes to the teacher with...," Flaversham faltered, readjusting his large round glasses as he took a closer look at a rectangular piece of parchment in his fingers, "... 'Most A+ Students in 1992'!"

More chatter. Several of the women giggled and gabbled amongst themselves, quietly (or not-so-quietly) guessing at who might win the prize.

"And the card goes to..." He flipped open the parchment. "Mrs. Frisby!"

The room clapped and cheered. Mrs. Frisby, looking very surprised indeed, humbly got up from her chair, thanking her friends who patted her encouragingly as she stepped up to the podium to retrieve her gift.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Frisby," Flaversham said warmly, handing her the card.

"Why, thank you!" she addressed, both to him and the entire room. "I don't know what to say!"

"You earned it, Miss Friz!" someone called from the crowd, and others heartily agreed.

As Frisby went to sit down, still looking rather flabbergasted, Globetrotter scoffed, tossing a paw in frustration and opting to lean up against a nearby wall at the very back of the crowd. No medals. No trophies. Just party favors! What a joke.

And so the "party favors" were slowly dolled out over the course of a very long, very boring hour, at least in Globetrotter's eyes. The gifts took on all shapes, sizes, and costs, ranging from everything from a pack of playing cards to a set of expensive dinnerware. Basil, unsurprisingly, won a gift card to Barnes & Noble for "Most Books Assigned to Classes". It was common knowledge that his assignments involved consulting actual tomes - lots of them. If there was anyone who owned a bigger library than Globetrotter and even Flaversham, it was Basil. Jerry the Mouse, one of the theatre instructors, received a VHS set of musicals for snagging the "Most Creative" award, and Pinky, to no one's surprise, was the grand winner of the "Most Popular Teacher" title and a month's supply of Cheez-Its. Surprisingly, the only award Snowball had won, and would win for the remainder of the ceremony, was a fez hat for "Most Mysterious". He didn't seem perturbed, however. Quite the opposite, in fact. He accepted his gift graciously, wasting no time in plopping it atop his thick head, a smug smile completing the look. So far, Globetrotter had not won a single prize. Not like he wanted one at this point...

By 7:49, and with only two awards left to go, Globetrotter was silently plotting Pinky's downfall more deeply than ever. Why had he agreed to this public display of humiliation? Why did everything that could go wrong actually go wrong on this joke of a day? Why did he ride along in a pungent car with a wack-o "professor" who had terrible taste in music and an even more insatiable personality? Why, for that matter, had he even bothered to make him his lackey, of all things? What crazy mood had he been in to posses him to act upon that notion? Why would he willingly hang out with someone he didn't like; that he was trying to oust, rather? To destroy?

As all these confusing thoughts playing ping-pong loudly in Brian's head, Flaversham read out the second-to-last award:

"And the winner of 'Ultimate Night Owl" goes to... Oh! Professor Globetrotter!"

Globetrotter's ears perked up as the crowd cheered and clapped politely. He barely heard what the title even was, much less the award he'd earned for it.

"Wait... What?" he queried, looking this way and that in confusion.

"That's you, Globetrotter!" another math professor said.

"Go on up, man!" piped a much younger teacher whom Globetrotter did not know, pushing him up to the front encouragingly.

He stepped out into the middle of the room a bit self-consciously, hands tucked in to his chest as he tip-toed towards the podium, the gentle claps and occasional whistle nudging him ever forward. He stared up at Flaversham, feeling smaller than he usually felt.

"For you!" Flaversham said, handing him a book: A Shrine of Murders by Celia L. Grace.

Globetrotter took it. He blinked. Not only was this a very appropriate gift, it was actually one he'd been wanting. Whomever had gotten him this knew that it had been on his wish list. Who...? For that matter, who had paid for all of these prizes?

In the background, Pinky was watching Globetrotter most intently, albeit trying not to look it.

"What was my title?" Globetrotter asked, still flabbergasted.

"Oh. Uhhh... U-Ultimate Night Owl, Professor Globetrotter. You won for the teacher who clocks out the latest. Y-You must be very studious, Professor!"

Globetrotter looked down at his book once more, almost at a loss for words.

"I-I... Thank you...," he managed to squeak out.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had given him such a thoughtful gift. It scared him a little. Who was this individual who knew him so well? But then he realized: It hadn't been quite so long ago that he'd received a very personal present. The last person whom had given him a particularly intimate gift... was Pinky. He tossed a searching and inquisitive stare over his shoulder at the Trozologist, who simply gave him a very small and strained smile.

"Um. I-If you don't mind, Mr. Globetrotter, may we continue with the... festivities?" Flaversham bumbled about.

Globetrotter looked around, only just then realizing that he'd been standing in place for a good half a minute. Every eye was on him. Some were giggling, presumably at his shocked reaction and the flabbergasted look on his face. A light pink blush rose up into the science teacher's ivory cheeks. Embarrassed, he shuffled back to his spot at the tail end of the crowd and leaned against the wall, caressing the book with warm hands as he did so. His ego told him he deserved this; that he worked hard to warrant receiving gifts. But another part of him, a part he'd tried desperately to hide for years, told him he absolutely did not.

There was an odd rumbling in his stomach as Flaversham pulled out the last card for "Most Knowledgeable Teacher". Again? Surely, he didn't have to relieve himself this soon? Deciding to be safe than sorry, he made for the bathroom, when...

"And the winner goes to... Oh, my! Globetrotter again!"

More claps. More cheers. Most polite; some genuine. Basil looked rather disappointed.

Globetrotter stopped dead in his tracks and turned around slowly on the spot. What...?

"Yes, you! A-ha. Come here!" Flaversham called, responding to the mouse's locked and bewildered stare.

Once again, the professor slowly made his way to the front of the crowd, reaching out for the second time towards a prize.

"Congratulations!" said Flaversham.

He accepted the gift, without a "thank you" this time. He looked at it. It was a gift card to Denny's.

The claps continued. Even though they were more deferential than anything, it was at least agreed upon, albeit not in words, that this prize was one Globetrotter very much deserved. Despite his horrible reputation, not one could deny that he was the most intellectual being in the school.

He shuffled slowly back to his wall, wide-eyed, dumbstruck, and still processing the fact that he'd not only won twice, but that one of the prizes was to a place he'd never set foot in in his life... and probably never would.

"Well, that does it for the ceremony, everyone! Ah, Mrs. Judson is making roast pudding in the kitchen, if you'd all like to have some!" Flaversham called out, as the guests began to disperse, some taking it upon themselves to shuffle the chairs and tables back into position, others heading immediately to the kitchen.

Globetrotter leaned back against the wall and sighed, staring at his two prizes. He'd come to this party in the hopes of attaining prizes; expected it even. So why was he so surprised to get some?

Confused, wanting to better collect his thoughts in a more private setting, Globetrotter slithered through the thinning crowd (most of whom were now jostling towards the enticing smell of pudding), past the chairs where he had sat (and which was noticeably absent of one particular Trozology professor), and up a flight of steps to the second level.

Compared to the rest of the house, this area was significantly less congested. In fact, aside from himself, no one else was up here. Tucking the book underneath his arm, and slipping the card into a pocket, he stuck his hand in his pants pockets and meandered about the vacant area.

A long mahogany banister, its thin wooden pillars supporting the third floor above, framed a strip of hall, wrapping around to stretch the length of another strip. The pillars were moderately spaced, enough that someone could look over any part of the banister to the first floor below. Globetrotter could see the top of the podium, and the black box, now open, that had house everyone's ceremonial votes. A lingering scent of burnt metal and, strangely, sour apples wafted across his nose as he shuffled across the thick ornate carpet, one hand rubbing its thumb over the smooth surface of the gift card as he went. His eyes went to the pictures along the walls - photographs of family members, young and old, that catalogued the years gone by; replications of Monet's paintings; the occasional framed newspaper clipping highlighting some new discovery in the scientific community, or else drawing attention to an exciting invention by some nobody from Tennessee or Ohio. One particular article covered the death of Richard Feynman, a physicist, in 1988. Globetrotter remembered that. He was quite fond of his research on particle physics and his theory of quantum electrodynamics.

Turning a corner at the end of the first stretch of banister, Globetrotter stopped sharply in his tracks, for only now did he realize that he wasn't the only guest up here.

Billie stood at the far end of the hall, her long, covered arms resting upon the banister as she overlooked the mostly empty living room below. She didn't bother turning her head as Globetrotter stood there, staring at her.

"Finally noticed me, did ya'?" she scoffed lightly, looking forlornly over the edge.

Globetrotter shuffled his feet. He racked his brain for a witty reply, but none came to mind, and so he settled with a lame:

"What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too, Eggy," said Billie, sounding equal parts miffed and disappointed.

"Please don't call me that."

"I'll call you whatever I want. Can't a girl have that?"

Globetrotter didn't know what to say. The scent of trouble was mixing with the apple and burnt metal, souring the atmosphere further, and he didn't like it. This entire evening was a ticking time bomb, slowly counting down the seconds to what was sure to be a royal disaster, and if he didn't leave soon it was going to blow up in his face.

"Excuse me. I need to... use the facilities," he threw at her, heading back towards the stairs. It was only a partial lie. If he didn't have to use the toilet when he got to it he could at least have a good cry where no one would see him.

"Eggy, wait...," she reached out, finally turning to look at him.

Globetrotter stopped, gaze firmly fixed on the carpet.

Billie sighed. When she spoke, it was with a significantly softer tone.

"Listen, Eggy, would you just tell me the truth? You don't have to pretend you weren't involved..."

"What are you talking about?" asked Globetrotter, shooting her a sharp and quizzical glare over his shoulder.

"Eggy, I'm not stupid. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you worked with Snowball in getting me here, just to embarrass me. You know how much it breaks my heart to see you again!"

"Why would I actively participate in something that makes me just as uncomfortable? That doesn't make any sense."

"I dunno. I just know you had a hand in it."

"I did nothing of the sort. I had no idea Snowball was going to be here, much less you."

Billie winced a little at the insensitive remark.

"Are you even a little happy to see me, Eggy?"

Globetrotter gave her a long, drawn-out look. Gosh, she was pretty. Even with one strand of the silky hair that curled over her face being out of place. Even with a bit of her eyeliner being slightly askew. (Eyeliner. He didn't even like eyeliner, but he liked it on her.) The saucer hat which practically hovered over her head like a UFO, and the ugliest yellow purse in the world, did nothing to diminish her beauty. But it wasn't meant to be and had never been meant to be. There was, as he would have put it, no sense in lamenting over prostrated dairy product.

And so he replied with a very finite, but lugubrious, "no", leaving his pity in his pockets as he left the second floor and descended back down to the first, Billie staring after him with a forlorn expression on her painted face.

/\/\/\/\/\

The crowd waited with bated breath. Jaq was chewing on his tail, and Gus, right beside him, had his paws tucked tightly up to his chest, bottom lip reddening as he bit down on it in trepidation. Amos's jaw was in great danger of falling to the floor in astonishment, and Basil, sitting in a far corner of the kitchen, was staring unblinkingly at the scene, equal parts frightened and disgusted.

Pinky and Pip were sitting across from one another at the main dining table, head-to-head in a furious competition, a sizable crowd of guests sitting and standing around them, captivated. Pip had challenged Pinky to a drink off - a spicy drink off, to be precise. In front of them were two tumblers, both filled to the brim with a most potent concoction indeed: a juicy mixture of jalapenos, habaneros, garlic, ginger, turmeric, a little bit of apple and carrot to offset some of the heat, and, to top it all off, chili peppers. "Bet you can't get through just one!" Pip had joked, and Pinky, not wanting to turn down any kind of party game, had accepted when no one else would.

The two rodents, chipmunk and mouse, grinned at one another, game faces set.

"You gentlemen are going to regret this," Dawson said, who was standing nearby with a stop watch ready and waiting in his hand. "On my mark. Get set... Go!"

Immediately, they started chugging. Pinky's eyes practically popped out of his head at the first gulp, but he kept going. Pip barely broke a sweat at first, but half-way through his nose was starting to wrinkle.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!" went the crowd, mostly the men. Almost all the women looked either concerned, grossed out, or simply shook their heads in exacerbation. Mrs. Judson glared at them in-between cutting up vegetables for another dish.

Pinky's eyes were starting to water. Pip drank faster in an effort to get it over with as quickly as possible. They both finished their first glass at the exact same time, each slamming their tumblers on the table and gasping for fresh air. Pinky's tongue was lolling out of his mouth, and Pip was actually sweating.

"Time!" Dawson called out. "Thirty-six seconds flat!"

"T-Take that for a first shot!" Pip exclaimed, looking weary.

"Now now. That was a tie, and you still have one more glass to go!" Dawson reminded them.

"What...? Oh, yeah..," groaned Pip, giving his second tumbler the side eye.

Pinky silently drew his second glass up to himself in preparation, resigned to his fate. Might as well.

"On your mark...," went Dawson, as Pip scrambled to grab his glass. "Go!"

Off they went, Pip more resignedly this time, Pinky simply shooting down the drink as fast as was humanely possible. He shut his eyes to the heat, tears streaming down his fluffy white cheeks now as he threw his head back and downed the entire thing gulp-by-gulp. Pip struggled to keep up, and at the second Dawson yelled, "Time!", he was still finishing off the last few drops as Pinky slammed his glass to the table.

"Mr. Pinky is the winner!"

"Ha!" Pinky exclaimed, pointing at Pip victoriously as he fell back into his chair, breathing heavily and smiling wearily as the crowd came around to congratulate him, pat him on the shoulders, or else bring him a glass of water or milk. Mrs. Judson simply shook her head, muttering under her breath, repulsed.

"Hmph. Beginner's luck," Pip groaned, sinking into his chair as he lazily tossed a $10 bill in Pinky's direction. When someone set a cup of milk in front of him, he stubbornly waited a few seconds before picking it up resignedly and downing the entire glass.

Globetrotter came in right at the tail end of it all, hands still occupying his pockets as he lingered next to Mrs. Judson. He shook his head.

"Idiots," he mumbled.

"For once, I agree with you," Judson seconded, cutting up carrots. "What'd you win? I heard some of it, but didn't get a look at the prizes."

Globetrotter slipped the book out from under his arm and held it out for Mrs. Judson to see.

"What's this?" she asked, leaning over and adjusting her glasses for a better look. "Hm. Book you'd been wanting?"

"Yes," said Globetrotter, tucking the precious cargo back under his arm.

Mrs. Judson smiled and shook her head.

"Always so thoughtful, he is," said she.

"Who?"

"Mr. Pinky, of course. He said you'd like it."

"He got me this..?"

"Well, of course. He bought all the gifts. Didn't he tell you?"

"I... He did?"

"Yes. He took it all very seriously. Must have cost a fortune for him. He's not as well to-do as you are."

Globetrotter frowned, staring off into space in contemplation. Well, that explained the variety in the gifts. At some point he must have run low on funds and scraped for options, hence the fez hat and Denny's card. He was surprised the nincompoop had paid for it all himself. What a waste of finances, he thought. Then again, he did like the book.

"Oh, look what the cat dragged in...," was what slipped off of Mrs. Judson's tongue, barely turning around at the telling click of two high-heeled shoes.

Only Globetrotter had heard the comment as he turned about to see Billie walk into the room. He both resented and agreed with it. While he did find her beautiful, there was a reason why things hadn't worked out.

The overly-dressed mouse stepped lightly across the linoleum, pinching her nose as she did so.

"Oo! What is that smell?!" rang out her disgust in a high-pitched, obnoxious voice, turning a few heads in the process. "Smells like someone threw up a chili dog!"

At the sight of Billie, most returned to their conversations, blatantly ignoring her. She didn't seem to notice.

"Who's the braud?" Pip whispered to a teacher, a vole by the name of Motley.

"Hm? Oh," replied Motley, adjusting his glasses as he took a closer look at Billie. "That's Ms. Rossi, Globetrotter's ex."

"Wife?"

"Girlfriend."

"Ohhhhhhhhh. She's a looker, ain't she?" Pip grinned.

"Mmmm... yes. Not much of a lover, though, from what I've heard."

"No? Huh. Shame."

Billie sniffed, taking a moment to look around the room (as well as frowning at the mere presence of Mrs. Judson) before noticing that Globetrotter was, in fact, staring at her.

"Still not talkin' to me, huh?" she nipped, judging him with a look.

Rolling his eyes, Globetrotter walked right past Billie.

"I'm not having this discussion," he said, pointedly refusing to look at her. "If you're too bothered by my presence, you can leave."

Billie stared at him as he exited out of the kitchen and back into the living room. Behind her, Snowball popped his head out of the crowd, grinning sneakily.

"Eggy!" Billie called out, following Globetrotter, not noticing that she wasn't the only one who chased after him.

Back out in the living room, Globetrotter stopped in his tracks as Billie caught up with him. Only a few stragglers lingered about the area by this point, but it was still enough that Globetrotter gave her a warning look. Not here. Not now. The last place he wanted this second-hand embarrassment to fester in was in public, but he knew Billie all too well. Rain or shine, mall or mansion, she was going to speak her mind.

"Eggy, wait! Why don't we talk about this?" she insisted, actually reaching out to grab at Globetrotter's hand. He let it linger there for a moment, but only a moment.

"There's nothing to discuss," said he, pulling away. "Especially here," he said between gritted teeth.

Like a snake, Snowball slipped out into the living room and slithered up against a wall, discreetly grabbing a book from one of the nearby shelves and holding it up to his face in mock preoccupation. Now and again, he peeked over the edges of the novel to enjoy the show. If he'd had popcorn, he would have been munching it.

"It's because I'm not good enough for you, isn't it? You always were more in love with your work."

"That's not the case at all!" Globetrotter retorted, even though, to a degree, it was. "I've told you multiple times why it won't work out between us. Why can't you just... drop the subject?"

"Maybe I would if you'd give me a better reason besides just, 'Oh, I'm too busy!', or, 'Oh, you're too high-maintenance for me!', whatever that means."

By this time, the few stragglers had paused in their private conversations to stare at the scene, and heads were popping out from the kitchen door and hallway to gawk at the battling ex-couple, including Pinky, who actually slipped out into the living room. He seemed torn between interrupting and letting nature take its course. Snowball was silently giggling to himself, which, unfortunately, caught Billie's attention.

"You!" she yelped. "What are you doing here eavesdropping?"

"Me? I'm just trying to read my book!" he replied.

"You set me up for this. You knew he was going to be here, didn't you?!"

"I had no idea! I didn't know one way or the other if Brain was going to show up," reacted Snowball, dressing himself in the ultimate feign of innocence, one hand to his chest and eyes wide in "shock".

Pinky began to lift a paw in protest at this, but quickly replaced it. Technically, Snowball was correct. The principal had had no idea if Pinky would have been able to get Globetrotter to come or not; he'd requested him there as part of the deal, and now, as Pinky watched Globetrotter quietly smirk behind his book, he knew why. It wasn't because he wanted to reconnect with an old friend, or see to it that Globetrotter had a little bit of fun outside of school. He'd wanted him humiliated, all four feet of him, hooked, lined, and sunk in front of a gaping audience, and, thanks to Pinky, he'd gotten it.

Billie had rounded on Globetrotter again.

"It's not enough to break a girl's heart, is it, Eggy? Ya' always gotta go the extra mile, don't you?" she yelled, clearly not believing either of them.

"I never meant to hurt you!" Globetrotter defended himself truthfully. "I just... didn't know how to move forward!"

"Oh, is that all it was? Well, here's your chance! Are you going to take me back or what?"

"I... I-I..."

He looked around nervously. The entire room, now more densely populated, was staring at him. Every eye, from the hallway... to the kitchen door... to the main area, was grounded on Globetrotter. He looked positively mortified. Pinky was frowning sadly at him.

"I-I... I... can't...," he faltered, ears drooping lower than his voice, head hanging. "I don't know how..."

The entire gaggle of on-lookers held their breath. Snowball was on the edge of his seat, as if watching the climax of an action film.

"I see...," Billie said quietly, and Globetrotter lifted his head hopefully. "You're a coward!"

Down went the ears again.

"I should have known you wouldn't have the guts to act on your promises," she snapped, turning her back to him... before swiveling around to face him again just as quickly. "Maybe things would have been different if I'd been more like that Dana girl, huh?!"

"What..? N-No, I...!" Globetrotter stumbled, both in word and in footing as he slowly backed away from Billie's advances.

"Couldn't decide on which girl, could you, Eggy?"

"No, I..! I didn't even like her! She was just..."

"Just what, Egghead?"

"I..."

"Just what?!"

But Pinky had had enough. Frowning, he stepped in-between the two mice, glaring daggers at Billie.

"Please don't shout at my friend," he said, calmly, but firmly.

The crowd waited on tenterhooks. Snowball wasn't even trying anymore to hide the fact that he was enjoying this. His face lit up with glee as he grinned deviously.

"Oh yeah?" Billie countered. "You consider this loser a friend?"

"Yes, I do, and he doesn't deserve to be shouted at! Narf! Maybe he has done some bad things, and maybe he doesn't always know how to talk to a girl, but he's done some good things, too!"

"Oh, yeah? Like what? Name one thing!"

"Well, he...," Pinky paused, looking back at Globetrotter, who stared sadly up at him. What good would someone that innocent see in him? he wondered. Surely nothing.... But Pinky continued. "He's smart, and he's hard-working, and honest, and he hangs out with me even when he doesn't have to. And if he's not comfortable being in a relationship then you shouldn't force him to! Maybe he's just not ready yet? Poit. You should be more understanding."

Billie huffed and folded her arms.

"Hmph. So you'll just invite any ol' person to your parties then, huh? Even people like him?"

"No. I only invite my friends. I didn't invite you, and if you're not going to be nice, then... I'll have to ask you to leave, w-with Flaversham's permission, of course," said Pinky, looking to Flaversham, who gave a pitying nod.

Billie looked around at the crowd. No one came to her defense. Clearly, she was outnumbered. Directing her attention to Pinky once more, she huffed a second time, frowning.

"Fine! If that's the way you all want it, you can have it!"

And she marched out the mahogany door, yellow purse and all, slamming it loudly behind her. Flaversham winced.

Some of the crowd actually clapped.

"Way to go, Mr. Pinkus!" one teacher said.

"Nobody liked that floozy!" spouted another.

Pinky smiled sadly and looked over his shoulder at Globetrotter, who was still staring up at him, at a complete loss for words. He'd actually stood up for him. Why...?

"Do you want to go home?" Pinky asked, soft enough that only Globetrotter could hear him. Slowly, he nodded. Pinky nodded back, acknowledging his request.

"Um... It's been lovely spending time with you all!" Pinky called out to the crowd, loud enough for everyone to hear him, "But Brai-, uh, G-Globetrotter and I have to get going now! We'll see you all later. Please enjoy the party!"

They all thanked him for a lovely time, many coming up to personally shake his hand, pat him on the back, and, in the case of a few of the ladies, give him a soft kiss on the cheek. After they'd all said their good-byes, Pinky stepped up to Flaversham.

"I'm so sorry I can't stay to help clean up. Um... I'd be happy to pay you for it. Oh, and would you please say good-bye to Olivia for me?" he asked, looking forlorn.

"Not to worry, dear boy," Flaversham said, clasping a hand to his shoulder. "I'll take care of everything. You two go home and get some rest, all right?"

Pinky nodded, thanked him, and headed for the door, waving at Globetrotter to follow him.

Globetrotter stepped after Pinky, albeit somewhat drunkenly. As Pinky opened the door for him, he looked back over his shoulder... and caught Snowball staring at him. He said nothing, only gave him the thumbs up, and Pinky, frowning, knew immediately what it meant. He'd succeeded. Olivia would get her baseball stadium. She'd get it, but at what cost?

Out of the three-story mansion they went, past the mahogany door, which Pinky closed shut, over the welcome mat, and back into the pizza-scented Dodge.

The first thing Globetrotter noticed, besides the time (8:32 PM), was Beethoven. Rather humorous, he thought, as he buckled his seat belt, that they'd come back to the same composer - the 5th Symphony this time. They'd started with Beethoven, but they were not, it seemed, to end with Beethoven, for at that moment Pinky angrily changed the subject. Slamming his forefinger onto the "CD" button, the music quickly shifted from classical back to The Beatles, although this time he skipped ahead a few tracks, finally landing on one particular piece. Globetrotter listened quietly as he heard first one chord, then another, be plucked gently by the strings. And then singing...

Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life You were only waiting for this moment to arise

For once, Pinky was completely silent as they drove off and away from the house, moonlight flooding the Caravan. Globetrotter couldn't help but toss a shifty glance now and again in his colleague's direction. He'd never seen the mouse look so upset before. It was rather uncomfortable...

Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these sunken eyes and learn to see All your life You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Surprisingly, he found that he liked this song. Not that he'd ever say it out loud.

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly Into the light of a dark black night

Brian sighed. He supposed he owed him this.

"Thank you, for... what you did," he said. "I appreciate it."

He looked over at Pinky again... and his eyes went wide. The Trozologist looked on the verge of tears. Globetrotter gulped. Was it something he said?

Pinky sniffed.

"Do you...," he began, and sniffed again. "Do you think I hurt her?"

Brian stared. He was worried about Billie?

"What?" he asked, incredulous.

"The girl. Do you think I hurt her feelings?"

"You're talking about Billie?" Globetrotter voiced out loud.

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly Into the light of a dark black night

Pinky nodded. He really was trying very hard not to cry.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these broken wings and learn to fly

"I think she'll be fine," Globetrotter conceded, looking back out at the empty road as they turned a corner.

All your life You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Pinky sniffed again. With eyes only, Globetrotter looked around for a tissue, but found none.

"I never mean to hurt anyone!" burst out the lanky professor, full on crying now. "I just wanted to h-have a nice party!"

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Globetrotter actually shuffled about for a tissue this time. He'd rather not be rained on if it was to be helped. Opening up the glove box, he found a pack of Kleenex and handed it to Pinky, who gratefully made quick use of it.

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

"I know that... that she wasn't being nice, b-b-but I... I didn't mean to get so upset!" Pinky wailed.

Globetrotter rolled his eyes and shifted about in his seat uncomfortably. What was with this creature? He couldn't believe anyone would be so relentlessly compassionate. Even Flaversham, who, in his eyes, was an absolute twit, had his rough edges. This guy had barely raised his voice and was crying "mea culpa". He simply couldn't make heads or tails of it.

"Maybe sometimes people need to be told off," Globetrotter offered. "You said it yourself. She was being unreasonable."

"Yes, but I didn't mean to yell at her!"

"You weren't yelling," Globetrotter assured the distressed teacher. "You barely raised your voice. Besides, she didn't deserve sympathy. Some people won't accept an apology, and if they can't take that then they don't deserve forgiveness, regardless of the circumstances."

"What did you say?" Pinky asked, still sniffing as he stared over at Brian.

"I said some people don't deserve forgiveness. You're better off leaving them to rot in the hole they've dug for themselves."

"How can you say that?" Pinky asked, shutting off the music as the next song belted out its tunes. "Do you think you don't deserve forgiveness then, after all you've done?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Globetrotter, frowning.

"I didn't have to defend you, you know. By your logic, you don't deserve to be forgiven either. A-And maybe you don't! After all you've done to your students... Poit."

"My students?"

"Yes, Brain," said Pinky, setting the Kleenex pack to the side as he drove onto the highway. He sighed. "I-I've watched you, Brain. You... You scare them. Mrs. Judson told me about that student you traumatized years ago, and, well, no one... really likes you."

Globetrotter stared at him. Gulping, Pinky continued.

"Do you remember the first day I came here? I didn't teach that day, you know. There was a vole that came to me. He was crying. Said he was in your class, and that you'd said really mean things about him and his work. I sat with him for three hours, Brain. I think he just needed someone to talk to. He was really sweet, you know. He showed me his collection of pictures. He takes really nice landscape photos."

Globetrotter didn't know what to say to this. What Pinky was saying was raw; unfiltered. Most weren't bold enough to confront him about these matters, save for Mrs. Judson, and even she watched her step sometimes. But Pinky shot straight to the heart.

And there it was again. That feeling of... guilt? Shame? Except this time it wasn't as fleeting. It stuck to him stubbornly like glue, weighing him down in his seat, a painful reminder of his flaws. Perhaps this cooky professor had a point...

"You know... You're not at all what I expected," Globetrotter admitted freely.

"Hm?" Pinky whimpered, looking at the shorter mouse questioningly.

"When you first came to the school I thought you were a boob." He paused. "I still think you're a boob, but I didn't realize you had such... conviction."

Pinky blinked.

"I mean... I didn't think you'd question my moral ethics so... openly," continued Globetrotter.

There was another pause as Pinky looked back out at the road, pondering.

"People think I'm silly," Pinky said, in a soft and contemplative voice. "They expect me to be happy and bubbly all the time, and I try to be. But... it does get exhausting... sometimes."

Globetrotter stared at him.

"I do try to be kind to everyone," Pinky continued. "I want everyone to be happy, and have a good time. I do love everyone. I really do. Sometimes I wonder, though. I... I hope it makes a difference. I know the kids like me, but... I want the adults to like me, too. I want to make them happy. But maybe they came to the party just because... they felt bad for me... Poit."

He finished his spiel with a slight hang of the head. Globetrotter looked down at his feet, sighing resignedly.

"They did want to come," he said.

Pinky turned his head at this, his expression all innocence... and curious.

"I overheard some of them. They were all quite looking forward to it. And... you're undoubtedly the most popular teacher," Globetrotter groaned. "Everybody just loves you. And you don't need a personal attraction device for it either."

Pinky couldn't help but smile a little. So they did like him after all...

"You know, you're the first person to ever hang out with me," Pinky let out into the open. Globetrotter went wide-eyed at this, and Pinky smiled. "The first adult, I mean. I had plenty of friends growing up, but they moved and... I moved and, well, we all parted ways. When I got older, I tried making new friends, but people thought I was too... eclectic. Maybe I come off as a bit too silly, and so people think I'm that way all the time when I'm really... not. Maybe my car is just too messy, or my pants too stripe-y. Hm. I think I'm just too much for people."

He chuckled at the end of this, but it was a sad chuckle; a lonely chuckle.

Brian blinked, eyes set on Pinky as he processed all of this. He was more surprised that the mouse knew what the word 'eclectic' meant more than anything, but that lingering feeling of guilt and, dare he say it, pity... still hovered over him. This odd individual was, indeed, more complicated than was apparent by the naked eye. Perhaps he'd been too hard on him.

"I never had any friends either," voiced Globetrotter. "As an adult, nor really as a child. People thought I was too... eclectic."

Once more, Pinky stared at him, doing his best to keep his eyes on the road at the same time.

"Maybe you're not really a boob. Maybe you're more just... misunderstood. Like me...," said Globetrotter.

They stared at one another.

"Maybe... we can be eclectic together?" Pinky asked.

There was a pause for a moment. Then...

"Maybe," said Globetrotter.

And he smiled, actually smiled, at Pinky. Pinky smiled back.

It was another five minutes before they arrived at Brian's house. As before, Pinky offered to open the passenger-side door. This time, Globetrotter didn't refuse. He stepped out of the vehicle, happy to be rid of the old pizza smell. Pinky shut the door.

"Well, um, thank you... for coming," Pinky said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I'm... sorry it wasn't very happy for you."

"Don't worry about it," replied Globetrotter.

Several seconds passed, in which both of them found the ground incredibly interesting for some reason.

"Um... Well, h-have a good night," wished Pinky.

"Yes. Um... Thank you. You too...," ended Globetrotter lamely.

Pinky turned to go, but then...

"Oof!" exclaimed Globetrotter, for he suddenly found himself in a bone-crushing hug. "H-Hey!"

"Sorry. Eheh...," Pinky apologized, setting him down immediately. "Um... G-Good night!"

And he rushed back to his car, starting it quickly and driving off before Globetrotter could have time to reply properly. Globetrotter simply stood there, at a loss for words. This was the second time he'd been hugged by that character... and in public. Not that anyone had seen them (he hoped...), but it was still mortifying.

Still, as he made his way up the pathway and back to the house, keys jingling as he fitted one into the keyhole, he looked back at where Pinky had sped off... and pondered.

/\/\/\/\/\

A sigh slipped from Pinky's lips as he drove off into the night.

Stupid. That had been stupid. Why was he always so clingy? Brain didn't like hugs. He wouldn't want that...

He signaled and turned onto the freeway.

Thoughts raced through his head.

"Globetrotter doesn't care about anyone save for 'imself, love. I know you want to see the good in everyone, but some people just don't have that..."

"... that's one angry mouse you don't want to deal with."

Honk.

"He terrorizes all of his students and no one ever does anything about it!"

"He's terrible..."

Hooooooooonk.

"... should have known he wouldn't have the guts to act on his promises..."

"... you see a poor soul ready to end her life because of a teacher and you tell me if that man is fit to teach."

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!

Pinky JUMPED and turned the wheel just in time as a giant semi almost ran into him. He'd been so distracted he hadn't even noticed himself swerving into the next lane.

He breathed heavily, shaking from ears to tail as he coasted off of the next exit, pulled into a nearby neighborhood, and parked along the curb. He was still shaking as he turned off the engine, a hand clutched to his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. He'd almost died. What an idiot. He'd almost died...!

The thoughts continued to swim through his head, pounding at his brain, one ponderous quotation after another, until he was overcome with emotion; overcome with confusion; overcome with grief. And as the party at Flaversham's sailed on, as Globetrotter fell into an uneasy sleep, and as Olivia helped Mrs. Frisby put away the last of the dinner plates, one frightened, isolated Trozologist shook in his car, buried his face in his hands, and cried.

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Author's Notes:

When I first started on this chapter, the goal was to get to the car ride, which was my favorite part to write. However, as I kept going, various scenarios popped into my head that I thought would better add to the drama throughout, and so I kept adding on... and adding on... and adding on, until eventually the chapter capped at 27,440 words, which is the most I've ever written for anything aside from, perhaps, a film script I recently finished. It was recommended that I split the chapter into two, but I liked how one scene flowed into the next so much that I ended up just keeping it all together in one ginormous pile, which, admittedly, is far too long. Consider it a peace offering for the four-month hiatus. Ha.

In reality, I quite enjoyed writing this all out, especially the tender and tense relationships between characters, and I hope you enjoy it, as well. Below is a list of little factoids to go with the chapter:

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- Nat Sherman is a brand of cigarettes that operated from 1930 until 2020. The company produced premium cigars and what was known as "luxury cigarettes". I see Globetrotter as the type who would not skimp on anything when he could afford it, and that included smokes.

- Marvell Mouse is the creation of Black Geeky Girl ( GeekyBlackGirl on Twitter) and is not my character.

- The reason why Olivia is at the school so late at times is because of Flaversham. Her father occasionally stays past normal hours (though not as late as Globetrotter), and even Mrs. Judson, who will care for Olivia and take her home early when able, has to log in extra time now and again. Olivia doesn't mind too much, however, as Mr. Pinky provides endless entertainment. She also quite enjoys delivering messages to others around the school still.

- Amos the mouse is from the Disney short Ben and Me (it's super cute; check it out), Mappy is from the arcade game of the same name, and Pip is from the Disney film Enchanted.

- Since I'm probably not going to expand upon it much in any other chapter, I'll lay it down here just in case: Yes, the insinuation that there was something between Snowball and Globetrotter is definitely there. Basically, they were very close as friends (very close...), but had a falling out for two reasons. One is because of Billie. Globetrotter had always liked her, and they dated for a while, but he didn't know how to commit (and, in truth, wasn't a great partner, and neither was she). When they split, Snowball took advantage of this immediately. He and Billie got involved, but it didn't last long (she actually left him). Occasionally, he still tries to buy back her love with gifts. She'll accept the gifts, but not his affections. What tickles Snowball more than anything, though, is watching Billie and Globetrotter have at it in ragging cat fights, which almost always happens whenever they bump into one another. The other reason is because of career. Both rodents went into schooling and both wanted the position of principal, but Snowball got it because he was more charming and headstrong. Globetrotter always resented him for this, claiming he not only stole his job, but also his girl (even though Globetrotter kinda lost her in the first place). He sees Snowball as a threat, and he also sees Pinky as a "threat" because his popularity reminds him of Snowball's popularity in the past. The main difference is that Snowball is a bully, whereas Pinky is the exact opposite.

- Originally, I was going to make Pinky the host of the party and have it be at his house, but I ended up changing it so that Flaversham hosts it in his house and Pinky lives in an apartment instead. He was still in charge of organizing the event, however, including picking out the subjects for the ceremony.

- Globetrotter taking note of where every bathroom is in every place he visits is based on personal experience. Due to medical issues (albeit not the same one as Globetrotter's), I do the same thing.

- A Shrine of Murders is an actual book published in 1993 by author Celia L. Grace.

- Richard Feynman was a real physicist who did, indeed, do research on particle physics and established the theory of quantum electrodynamics. He died in 1988.

- I actually timed myself to see how long it would take to down a drink (in my case, water) about the size of the tall tumblers that Pinky and Pip would have drunk out of, which ended up being about 36 seconds.

- Rossi is one of the most, if not the most, popular Italian last names. I kinda like the idea of Billie having ties to a mob in New York.

- Dana was Globetrotter's therapist, back when he had one. He wasn't lying when he said he didn't like her in a romantic way.

- Pinky's spiel in the car is basically an embodiment of myself, save for not having any friends into adulthood.

#fan fiction #pinky and the brain

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