::Gadget sashays in from stage right towards the podium,
waving cheerfully at her admirers in the audience (i.e., everyone). Her usual sunny smile almost makes the
intense spotlighting superfluous. She's
dressed up way beyond usual in a strapless, body-hugging black number, although
still barefoot. The dress has an aura of
simple, elegant understatement that you know someone, somewhere paid handsomely
for.
The
audience applauds thunderously, save two certain chipmunks. Their seats lie empty in the otherwise packed
hall. Do her eyes linger on those empty seats
for just the briefest of moments?
Perhaps the chipmunks had some business to take care of backstage. Regardless, they're no doubt watching from wherever
they are. They'd never willingly miss this.
By now,
the beautiful inventor has made her way to the podium. Tapping the microphone twice, she launches
into her opening remarks::
Gadget: Well,
golly, here I am again!
::She pauses briefly in genuine wonderment::
Gadget: This time, my co-presenter, FleaBot (that's one word, not two, by the way), and I will
be presenting the 2005 Golden Acorn Award for Best All-Time Artist. Although, if you think about it, that doesn't
really make sense, because-
::She pauses again, this time to absently rub a spot behind
her left ear. As if a signal to battle,
a chipmunk-sized brown blur rushes in from stage right, letting loose a
blood-curdling, “PISTAAAACCHIOOOOO!” before unceremoniously dumping an entire
medicine bottle of Drs. Foster's & Smith's Flea and Tick Powder over
Gadget's head. Most of the powder
collects in a cone around her waist, but the rest is more than enough to turn
the mouse and her uncharacteristically upscale attire completely albino.
Chip
dusts off his hands and grins with the satisfaction of another quarry caught::
Chip: I think I finally got that blood-sucker this ti...
::The remaining words stick in his throat as Gadget turns her
gaze on him. His mind is greatly, albeit
vaguely, disturbed by the vision of an albino Gadget. Oh, and the look of murderous compassion in
her wide, deep blue eyes doesn't help, either.
But oh, how he just wanted to lose himself in those passionate eyes::
Gadget
(frostily): What, exactly, do you think you're doing?
Chip
(stammering): Umm, uh, err...
::Gadget counts silently to ten, before sighing::
Gadget: Oh well, no real harm done. I can just vacuum this powder off, as long as
it doesn't…
::At this point, another chipmunk-sized blur rushes in from
stage left, this time with a flash of red::
Dale: I’LL
SAVE YOU, GADGET!
::Dale promptly dumps a thimble of water over her head, then
beams proudly::
Gadget:
…get wet.
::The combination of flea powder and water has congealed into
a gluey mess. The black dress is utterly
ruined, of course, and that much concentrated anti-flea medicine can't be
healthy for the skin, either. Our poor
heroine looks like a mouse drowned in marshmallows.
The
auditorium is completely, utterly, and totally silent as Gadget's face begins
to glow a deep, fiery red. Perhaps,
even... orange::
Gadget: AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Dale: Oh,
stop screaming like a girl, Chip…
::Gadget snares Dale with a powder-covered paw and whirls him
around::
Gadget: Dale,
do you know how much This Dress COSTS? And it was a GIFT from a VERY SPECIAL
FRIEND!!!
::Gadget huffs, her cute paws clenching. Dale ducks and
whimpers::
Dale: Uh,
you aren't going to hurt us now, are you, Gadget?
Gadget:
No…I am, after all, widely known as a kind and gentle mouse of mercy.
::She smiles, and the chipmunks let out a collective sigh of
relief::
Gadget: I'll
give you a head start first. On a count of five. FIVEFOURTHREETWOONE!
::The chipmunks make themselves scarce with an astonishing
turn of speed. Once she frees herself
from the mire around her ankles, Gadget is not far behind. The audience mumbles
impatiently at the now-empty stage.
A
disembodied, robotic-sounding voice comes over the sound system::
FleaBot: Well…
::A muffled crash and screams emanate from somewhere
backstage::
FleaBot: Anyway. The Best All-Time
Artist award was created to recognize the artist whose overall body of work
over the years exemplifies, in the eyes of the community, the best of Ranger
fandom. The current holder of the award
is Chris 'Fish' Fischer, who topped the vote totals in 2003 and 2004, and whose
epic graphic novel, 'Of Mice and Mayhem,' continues to be an inspiration for us
all.
::More muffled screams and terror, followed by the roar of
what sounds rather suspiciously like a highly (and dangerously) modified shop
vacuum::
FleaBot: Since Miss Hackwrench is otherwise...
indisposed, I will now read the list of nominees for Best All-Time Artist for
2005. In no particular order, they are:
Charles Williams
Fish
Te'Targa
Toni
Artist
J
Mikhail
p.f.
Oleg
FleaBot: It is truly a great honor simply to be nominated for this
award. While unfortunately only one of
these great artists can…
::The two chipmunks cut a blue streak across the stage,
wailing piteously as they run from stage left to stage right. Chip has a bucket of paint over his head, while
Dale is covered in feathers. Each has
several plunger darts stuck to their tails.
Our girl Gadget chases close behind, a belt-fed, fully automatic, air-powered
plunger gun in her arms. Every couple of
steps, she braces herself and alternately shouts one of either::
Gadget:
Should! No problems!
::She looses another plunger bolt in the chipmunks' general
direction. The disembodied speaker patiently waits for this heart-warming
moment to run off, stage right::
FleaBot: While only one can win, I tip my proverbial hat to every one of
these fine folks. For my own part, I
found it very difficult to make a choice during voting, as they all exhibit a
level of talent that many of us can only wistfully dream about. Our community is so much the richer and more
beautiful for all your efforts. Thank
you!
::There is a moment of thunderous collective applause from
the audience::
FleaBot: And now, the moment you
have all been waiting for!
::The envelope, which has been lying on top of the podium,
mysteriously opens of its own accord.
There is a rustling of paper, and then: The winner is: well, who else,
Fish!
::To the standing ovation of the audience, Fish comes up to
receive his award::
Fish: Wait
a minute-- does this mean that my best artist award only meant SOMETIMES a best
artist?? Well - then I hereby give that
one to Jack Lemmon…. Come on up here, Jack! …Uh oh..Tammy's giving that cut it signal again-- as is the
whole audience…why? What's wrong? Should I give it to Ving
Rhames?
Well--
maybe I'll just keep them both after all…
::Fish breathes easier as everyone calms down::
Fish: Many
thanks to everybody! I will endeavor to produce more art this year in
retribution- I mean --uh-- gratitude! Hey! There's that wallaby with my wallet
again! AND my boxers? Well now, THERE's
a neat trick. How on earth…?
::The audience applauds as Fish runs offstage, chasing a
certain boxer-clad wallaby around the place. Meanwhile, the chipmunks are back,
stumbling from stage right to stage left this time, groaning in agony. Their backsides completely covered in
plungers, they've been nearly immobilized.
Chip's gotten the paint bucket off his head, but both chipmunks are now peanut buttered and feathered from head to toe.
Gadget
follows at a comfortable pace right behind, wearing a bright grin. The chipmunks apparently can't see, hear, or
smell her with all the goop on them. Holding a conspiratorial finger up to her
lips, she gives the audience a mischievous wink. As soon as the chipmunks
seem to relax….
Gadget: BOO!
::The 'munks take off like a shot,
tripping over their feet several times on the way out. Gadget smiles like the sun, then takes off in
pursuit. The unseen speaker presumably
leaves the stage, if he or she was ever there to begin with::