Chapter 49
Down Below
Deep in the belly of the Double Down, weasels worked relentlessly. Their stamina was endless, as they toiled away at their workloads.
The smell of cupcakes hung thick in the air, filling the noses of the workers with its sweet scent. Though overbearing, it was the one underlying pleasantry that kept them all hard at work.
From a crack in a nearby door, three goofs warily watched the industrious ermines at their work. What they were doing, or why they were doing it, none of them knew. At the moment, there was only one thing that they knew for certain.
“We gotta get outta here,” Goofy whispered.
“But, how? There must be a gazillion weasels out there,” Pinkie answered.
If Dash had learned anything from adventure novels, it was that getting out of the enemy’s lair was of the utmost importance. How to escape? That depended on the conditions. Usually in those novels, the place to escape from was a temple in the densest part of the jungle, or a raging river that led to a waterfall, or the crater of an active volcano. But in buildings, the only way out was to use a door or a window.
Scanning the area, all Dash could see was more weasels going about their business. One particularly large weasel looked like it was coming right toward them, forcing them to hide. Dash, however, lingered just a second longer. With the large weasel out of the way, the exit was clear.
Perhaps only a millisecond before she was seen, Dash was grabbed by her tail and yanked back into the pile of bags.
“We can’t go now! They’ll see us!” Pinkie said, popping out of one open bag.
“I know! But, I know how to get out of here now?” Dash replied, as she came out of another bag.
“Yeah? Whut’s thuh word?” Goofy said, who was stuffed headfirst into a third bag.
“At the far end of the room, there’s a staircase that goes up to a door. All we have to do is get past these weasels, and we’re clear.”
“Great! There’s just one eensy-weensy thing I think you forgot,” Pinkie said.
“What?”
“The weasels! Me and Goofy took out about ten. With you, that’s probably another five or six. But, there’s more weasels out there than I can count!”
“I thought we took care o’ Rex pretty good. He musta been strong as all these fellers put together,” Goofy offered.
“No. Pinkie’s right,” Dash conceded, “Rex was just one guy. Even if these guys are weaker than him, there’s still more of them than us. We’ll have to get past them without being seen.”
Easier said than done. With that many weasels, there was little they could do to not be noticed. Before any of them had a chance to discuss what they would do, the door suddenly creaked open.
Ducking back into their sacks, the goofs were unable to see the weasel who walked in to retrieve one of the sacks of mushrooms.
With the sound of departing footsteps, Goofy peered out and saw the weasel leaving.
The weasel huffed and puffed as he dragged the sack behind himself. It seemed like they were in the clear, until Goofy saw the top of Pinkie’s mane poking up from the top of the sack.
Dash too had noticed, and was about to jump out and rush after to rescue her friend. Goofy, however, beat her to the punch. He brandished his fishing rod and cast his line to hook onto the bag containing Pinkie.
Reeling as quickly and quietly as he could, the line soon went taut and started dragging Goofy out with it. Dash hiked up her sack and quickly bit onto the corner of Goofy’s bag.
The weasel dragging Pinkie’s bag jerked suddenly from the extra weight he was carrying. Looking back, he couldn’t see the other two bags he was dragging from around the corner of the door frame. Nor could he see the nearly invisible fishing line that was attached to his sack.
Pinkie slowly lowered herself downward, hoping she wouldn’t be noticed. Fortunately for her, the color of her own mane and coat was almost indistinguishable from the color of the mushrooms in the bag.
A faint clicking sound caught her ears. Peering through a tiny hole in the bag, she saw that two more bags were sliding out from around the doorway behind her.
Goofy continued to slowly reel, closing in on Pinkie and the weasel who was dragging her.
Dash peered out ever so slightly from her bag, and saw that they were being dragged laterally from the exit. Wherever they were going, it was the wrong way.
Realizing that she was headed for a den of weasels, she quickly pulled the bag back over her head, and held it more tightly to Goofy’s sack.
The exit slowly opened from the gentle push of a shaking hoof. Once it opened all the way, Miss Argente and Max both looked deeply into the room beyond.
It was Max who took the first steps into the room, despite how Miss Argente tried to stop him.
The room was like none other the young goof had seen. The creaking, pounding sounds of the machines, the chattering of the weasels, the blaze of the kilns and the overwhelming scent of cupcakes was enough to make him want to leave. He nearly would have, if not for Miss Argente steadily stepping to his side.
Carefully surveying the room, Miss Argente checked for the disposition of the workers. As normal, they were picking fights over perceived wrongs, surreptitiously robbing one another, and no doubt plotting other terrible schemes.
It was as bad as it ever could be for a child (or anybody) in such a place. Miss Argente always avoided the lower rooms if she could help it. But an order from Mr. Cray was not to be disobeyed, lest one’s head be separated from their shoulders.
“Max,” she began, “Listen to me, because it’s very important zat you do as I say. You must stay with me at all times. Do not wander off. Do not talk to any of ze workers in zis room. If any of zem talk to you, ignore zem. And if you see anything out of ze ordinary, you must tell me so zat we may avoid it. Do you understand?”
Even though Max didn’t understand why the reason was, he could sense the urgent tone in Miss Argente’s voice.
“Okay,” he answered, nodding his head slowly.
Miss Argente hesitantly walked down the metal steps with Max by her side. She quickly scanned the room for any sign of the weasel in charge, but found no sight of him. Steeling her nerves, she cautiously approached the nearest weasel, who was carrying a drawn up pouch.
“E-Excuse me…” she began.
The weasel stopped walking and looked directly at her.
“Eh? Ain’t you Mr. Cray’s coffee maker? Shouldn’t you be upstairs pourin’ him a cup o’ Irish?” he said.
“No. I’m...I…Where is Freeboot?” Miss Argente asked.
“The boss? He’s somewhere around the kilns dryin’ out the merch. You can say what you gotta over there.”
“Can’t he come to me?” Miss Argente asked, ever mindful of Max beside her.
“You think he’s got the time to stop? We’re busy down here doin’ our jobs! Why don’t you do yours, an’ go find him!”
And the weasel walked off carrying his large pouch.
The glow of the kilns caught Miss Argente’s gaze, and against them she saw Freeboot’s burly silhouette. Between the two of them was a sea of other weasels. Glancing to Max, her mind began to struggle between her natural instincts and her conviction to see through Mr. Cray’s demand.
“I need you to wait for me here,” she said to Max.
“But, you said I had to stay with you,” Max said.
“I know. But, right now I would feel better if you did not come with me.”
“But, what if one of those guys tries to get you? Shouldn’t somebody try to keep them away?” Max asked.
“I’ll be fine. Just stay here and wait until I return. And remember, do not wander off or talk to ze workers. I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Miss Argente said.
“Okay.”
Though she wasn’t sure if Max was truly compliant, it was enough for Miss Argente that he sat down on the last step. And with one last look at her young charge, Miss Argente turned around and walked off into the midst of the workers.
Max watched her go, seeing the way that she was warily eyeing every one of the workers in the room.
“Stay here? Forget it!” Max said to himself.
Of all the creatures he had met since he was brought to that strange world by that magical light, Miss Argente was the only one who treated him decently. And he was going to repay her in kind.
Paying no mind to the weasels, Max set to following after Miss Argente.
The weasel dragging Pinkie’s sack huffed and puffed. He stopped pulling a moment to catch his breath, and leaned against the side of one of the machines.
Pinkie peered out of her sack and briefly saw the layout of where she was. Goofy was still slowly reeling toward her, as she was set beside a large machine. What it was, she couldn’t tell. But, there were other weasels there using it, and the moment Pinkie saw them she ducked back into her sack.
“What are we puttin’ in here now? Bricks? I swear, this bag gained a thousand pounds when I was haulin’ it!” the weasel said.
“Or maybe you just turned into a sissy little mouse on your way here. Now, get that stuff into the grinder,” said another weasel.
“Grinder!?” Pinkie frantically thought to herself.
There was no time to act. The bag was hefted up, and Pinkie felt herself hoisted forward.
Mushrooms fell out of the bag around her, and for a brief moment Pinkie saw what looked like a metal pit with two churning screws within.
Desperate to avoid her fate, she started crawling further back into the sack.
“Hey! What the--!!?” The weasel said, as he was suddenly jerked around by his own sack of mushrooms.
“Quit messin’ around an’ get those mushrooms in there!” another weasel said.
“I’m tryin’! But, they’re alive!!” said the weasel with the sack.
Goofy saw an opportunity and yanked hard on his fishing rod, pulling Pinkie’s sack away and toppling the weasel.
The other weasels around the grinder laughed at their associate’s mishap.
“Ya know, ya gotta be smarter than a mushroom to beat ‘em in a fight!” one weasel guffawed.
“Yeah, yeah! Laugh it up! Somethin’s wrong with these--” the first weasel began, as he stood up. When he reached for his sack, he found that it was gone. “Eh!?”
Looking back, the weasel saw that the sack he was carrying had moved some three feet away from where he knew it had landed, and was joined by two others.
“So, that’s it, huh!? Gangin’ up on me! Well, you ain’t gettin’ the drop on this weasel!!” the weasel said.
Before anyone could react, he started stomping on each one of the sacks, jumping from one to the other, giving them all a thorough squashing.
Next, he grabbed a metal rod from nearby and started jabbing them all with the pointed end.
Once finished with the rod, the weasel drew a pistol from inside his jacket and started firing at the three sacks until he was out of ammunition.
“An’ let that be a lesson to ya’s!!” the weasel shouted, foaming at the mouth.
The three sacks were dragged away. And from below the grinder, three goofs watched what was very nearly their demise.
“Gawrsh...I don’t think he likes mushrooms much,” Goofy said.
“I don’t think he likes me much…” Pinkie shuddered.
Danger was everywhere in the underbelly of the ship. None of them were sure how much better things were beyond the room. But, they knew that they could not risk staying when they were so grossly outnumbered.
Silently motioning to the others, Dash began crawling beneath the length of the machine, followed by Pinkie and Goofy.
As they crawled, they saw the feet of the many weasels stepping by, operating the machine. Whatever they were grinding the mushrooms for, not one of them cared to know.
The end of the machine was in sight.
Above them was a narrow conveyor belt that led to a table. Periodically, weasels would walk to the table and pick up a tray to carry off somewhere the goofs couldn’t see.
It seemed there was no escaping from beneath the grinder. Everywhere they looked, there was no space to move without being seen.
Looking to their side, Goofy saw a set of hinges on one of the machines. A quick glance further down the machine, he saw a handle that would open the hatch before them.
Judging from the size of the hatch, it looked as if it would cover their escape just enough to minimize the chance of being noticed.
Goofy focused his mind and gripped his fishing pole. If there was any test of an angler, it was their ability to cast anywhere anytime. Now, in those tight quarters, he was ready to test his mettle.
The goof nudged Dash and motioned that they needed to switch places.
As if they had choreographed their maneuver, Dash rolled right over Goofy, who rolled right under her, until they both had switched places.
Once repositioned, Goofy recoiled his arms and thrust his fishing rod forward.
The line shot out and snagged the handle on the hatch. And with a strong pull, the hatch opened right up, slamming into a weasel who had just arrived to pick up one of the trays.
Dash rolled back over Goofy, flapped her wings, and went sliding across the floor to the space between the machines across from them.
Pinkie was next, frantically swimming across the floor with a graceful breaststroke.
Finally, Goofy reeled in his line, closed the hatch as he unhooked from it, and shot to where his friends were hiding.
The weasel who had been knocked over investigated beneath the conveyor belt and the table, but found nothing and nobody that could possibly have opened the hatch.
“Hrm…” the weasel said, before he started investigating around the machines for a culprit.
The goofs all quickly shuffled around to the other side of the machine, just as the weasel peered into the narrow space.
Behind the machine they had squirmed behind, it had become suddenly very hot, and the walls were blackened with soot. Somehow, they all got the feeling that they had wriggled around to some red hot oven.
“Hey, Greesball! Let’s be gettin’ them shrooms in the kiln!” a much lower voice called.
“Yeah, yeah! I’m comin’!” came the voice of the weasel who had just been investigating who had opened the hatch.
Dash was about to lead the way to the next hiding spot, when the way ahead was blocked by a massive weasel.
There was no way to move now. They were trapped between a hundred weasels and a very hot place.
Miss Argente cautiously made her way to the kilns, careful to not make eye contact with any of the workers. More than anything, she hoped that she would not be noticed in such a place. But, being the only silver cervequin in a room full of drab brown weasels made her stand out greatly.
Unknown to herself, she was being watched over.
Max silently followed behind, keeping out of sight beneath the many tables and machines that were placed throughout the room.
He shot out from under a table and covered himself with an empty bin that was against one table. Peering out, he saw that the table before him was laden with many bottles full of bubbling formulas over burners, and many hoses with valves. To him, it looked like a mad scientist’s work station. But, there was no time to wonder what the weasels were doing with all of those chemicals, as he noticed Miss Argente’s silver hooves walking on the other side of it.
The young goof struck out from under his bin, and crawled unseen beneath a table, right alongside Miss Argente’s hooves. Between the two of them, Max could see the knees of many weasels who were working at the table. So long as none of them turned around, he was satisfied with Miss Argente’s safety.
Unseen by Max, there was another weasel who was on his way toward Miss Argente. And with a sudden crash, the two collided with one another, and the weasel dropped the boxes he was carrying.
Miss Argente toppled to the side and bumped into two weasels who were at the table.
The table itself suddenly shifted, nearly revealing Max beneath it, who scooted back from view.
For just a fleeting moment, Miss Argente thought she had seen her young charge, before the workers turned on her.
“What’s the big i-dear!? You tryin’ to kill us!?” one weasel said.
“Je devrais vous jeter dans une fournaise pour ça!” said another.
“I-I-I’m sorry! I was looking for Freeboot! He has--” Miss Argente tried to explain.
Max saw she was in trouble, and looked for a way to help her.
Seeing one of the hoses that was before him, he followed it to a small propane tank on the floor under the table. Guessing what was on the other end, he slowly reached his hand up to the top of the table, unseen by the workers who had their attention turned solely to Miss Argente.
“You got no place down here! This whole operation’s gettin’ t’rown out o’ whack ‘cause o’ you!” one weasel said.
“Si Monsieur Cray avait du bon sens, il aurait jeté vous aux des bêtes après votre mari!” said the other.
“Well said, pal.”
As she looked helplessly at the weasels bearing down on her, Miss Argente saw a small hand reach up from below the table and turn a burner up as high as it would go. Next, the burner was turned directly to the seat of the nearest weasel’s pants.
An incredible yelp ran through the ship’s underbelly as the weasel shot into the air. Before he even landed, Miss Argente hurried away.
She was growing closer to her destination. But, before she arrived, she slowed to a halt and lingered by some bins.
“I told you to wait by ze stairs!” she whispered to the bins.
“And let the workers pick on you like Mr. Cray? No way! They shouldn’t get away with stuff like that!” the bin whispered back.
“It’s not ze point! It’s dangerous here! You should be back where it is safe!”
“I’m safe enough!”
Miss Argente never had much experience with youngsters, and was quickly growing frustrated by Max’s hard-headedness. But, she quickly thought of a way to get him to comply.
“Do you think zis is what your father would want? No! He would have insisted you stay back at ze stairs, just as I had,” she tried to reason.
With a sudden pop, Max stood up from beneath the bin he was hiding under.
“My dad also said that you should never leave your friends in a jam. So, as long as Mr. Cray is keeping us both here, we’re in this together!” he rebutted.
For one fleeting moment, Miss Argente could see why Max idolized his father so. From the sound of it, she might have believed he was as grand as Max made him out to be. Any father who taught such lessons to their son had to be.
“Talkin’ to th’ merchandise bins, are ye?” asked Freeboot’s voice when he suddenly arrived.
Max hid back beneath his bin.
“Ya’d best be quittin’ that, missy. The crew might think yer stealin' our product,” Freeboot said, as he lifted one of the bins.
“Uh...Um...Monsieur Freeboot...Monsieur Cray has…” Miss Argente began, as her knees trembled beneath herself.
“Tell me on the way to the kilns. There be a whale of a workload today,” Freeboot said, as he walked away to the kilns.
Miss Argente took one small step after him, then looked behind herself.
Max’s arm poked out from under the bin, giving her an affirmative thumbs up.
Unsure of what the gesture meant, Miss Argente leaned down to the bin.
“Stay behind! I’ll come retrieve you when I’m finished with Freeboot,” she said. Though somewhere in her mind, she knew that Max wouldn’t listen.
So, onward she went with a bin shuffling after her.
From behind the kiln, Dash, Pinkie and Goofy waited tersely for a sure sign that they were safe to make their next move.
The massive weasel had walked away from his post, and they had not seen him for several seconds.
“D’yuh think it’s safe tuh go?” Goofy asked.
“We have’t seen him for almost twenty seconds. That’s good enough for me,” Dash said, as she readied to make a mad dash for below the nearest table.
Before she could even start, Pinkie took hold of Dash’s tail and pulled her back.
“He’s coming back!” Pinkie said.
The goofs all shuffled further back into hiding. Sure enough, the muscular weasel walked right past their hiding spot. Shortly after, a silver cervequin followed.
“Nice save, Pinkie. You got that Pinkie Sense thing working again?” Dash asked.
“No. I was just listening for the thump-thump-thumping of his giant feet,” Pinkie said.
“No Pinkie Sense. Nuts! You could have told us when he was leaving again.”
As soon as Dash finished, a small, black bin shuffled by the gap between the machine and the wall.
The goofs stared dumbstruck at the sight, unsure of what to make of it.
“Uh, could yer Pinkie Sense have explained that?” Goofy said.
Pinkie slowly shook her head, doubting that even the fabled Pinkie Sense could have explained, or even noticed such a thing.
They could hear voices speaking on the other side of the machines. But, over the other noises, it was nearly impossible to make out what was being said.
“So, what brings a delicate piece o’ fish bait like yerself down to the bilge?” Freeboot asked, as he heaped tray after tray of dried mushrooms from the kiln into an empty bin.
“Uh…” Miss Argente began.
A sudden flare from the kiln made her gasp sharply, and jump so that her glasses nearly flew off of her face.
“Ha, ha! Sorry for me friend’s little belch here. He’s had too much to drink!” Freeboot chuckled, as he uncorked a bottle and threw its contents into the kiln.
The second the liquid touched the red hot wood, it shot forth a plume of flame.
Behind the kilns, the goofs felt the temperature suddenly spike. Along with it came a low churning noise.
“Whut’s that?” Goofy wondered aloud.
His question was answered when Pinkie, who was standing directly in front of the exhaust vent, was enveloped in a cloud of black soot that covered her from mane to tail. No longer was Pinkie Pie bubblegum pink. Now, she was a deep charcoal black.
“You look like Pudding Pie,” Dash giggled.
Pinkie opened her mouth to rebut, but was covered again by a cloud of soot.
“Gawrsh. I think Mr. Muh-sheen here needs a hankie,” Goofy said.
At the front of the kilns, Freeboot kicked the bin he had filled up over to the chemistry station, then stuffed a tray full of freshly ground mushrooms into the flaming kiln.
“Now, answer me question, before I throw ye overboard fer wastin’ me time!” he said to Miss Argente.
“Um...Monsieur Cray wants to know...Why have you not been sending in reports to his office for ze last two days?” Miss Argente answered.
“Ah-ha. That. Well, fish bait, I can understand the cap’n’s concern if he ain’t heard the scuttlebutt from below. But, the reason for our silence be a good’un. We’re workin’ double overtime from a surplus o’ production.”
“Pardon? A surplus?”
“Aye. The customers want what we got. An’ they want it bad. More creatures be comin’ here by the day. An’ the regulars be usin’ more than when they first arrived. ‘Cause o’ this, we had to work harder than ever to keep up. Not that it’s a problem. I suppose we’ll be seein’ a huge profit by the end o’ next month.”
“I..I see,” Miss Argente said, warily eyeing the very product that stole her husband from her. “Do you perhaps have ze numbers I can look at? So zat I can make a proper estimate?”
“Numbers? Ha!” Freeboot said, as he loaded up another tray to shove into another kiln. “We be but humble blue collar workers down here. No head for numbers to be found in the bilge. But, if ya wanna give it a crack, I got me a few rough numbers here.”
Freeboot took off his sailor cap and dug deep inside. After reaching nearly up to his elbow, he produced a crumpled sheet of paper with many illegible scribbles on it.
Miss Argente looked at the paper, dumbstruck as to how she was supposed to interpret such a thing.
“Aw, don’t look so down in the mouth over it. Ya can have the lad help ya,” Freeboot said.
“Z...Ze who?” Miss Argente said, though she thought she knew the answer.
Freeboot replied by kicking the bin that had been following Miss Argente away, and revealing Max underneath.
“The little swabbie me newest recruits brought aboard,” he explained. He then turned to Max. “Word of advice to ya, lad: it was clever of ya to hide like that. But, bins don’t walk. Work on yer disguise.”
From the gap behind the machine, the goofs saw their chance to safely progress present itself. A bin bounced into view, and well within the reach of Goofy’s fishing line.
Pulling his arms back, Goofy thrusted and cast his line forward.
The hook caught onto the lip of the bin, and Goofy reeled it to himself in an instant. The open part of the bin was now facing the gap the goofs were in, granting them easy access to enter it.
From the corner of his eye, Max knew he saw something move. Looking to the source, he saw that the bin that had surely landed nearer to the other workstations was now pressed against the end of the kilns.
Dash entered first, and pressed herself against the side as much as she could to admit Pinkie.
Pinkie, who was still covered in soot, started to wince. A terrible feeling grew within her head that made her nose twitch and her eyes water. There was no helping it. She had to let it out.
“Hiyee--hwoocha--ahee--HWAA--”
Dash and Goofy both clasped Pinkie’s mouth shut.
What would have been a sneeze that registered on the Richter scale was reduced to a low, constant nasal exhale. And once the danger had passed, Pinkie squeezed her way into the bin next to Dash.
Two ponies barely fit inside. So, how were they to fit a goof who was well over six feet tall?
Max watched warily as the bin started to shake all on its own. Something he knew shouldn’t have been. Though he had hardly obeyed a single instruction Miss Argente had given him, he was sure that reporting anything out of the ordinary was far more important than staying put.
“Miss Argente,” Max said, gently jostling her knee.
“Max, please. Not now,” came the answer, before Miss Argente returned to trying to decipher Freeboot’s scribble. “Zis here under weekly collection sums. Is zat a number four?”
“No. That be a doodle of a cow one o’ the more ornery mates made. Rest assured, he was peelin’ taters ‘til his fingers fell off,” Freeboot answered.
Unsure of how to react, Miss Argente simply returned to the paper.
Goofy was bent, twisted and contorted to fill every space there was between the mares. By the end of it, the three began to feel as if they had been molded together like three globs of clay.
“Well...Here we are again...Back where we started!” Dash muttered with her face in Goofy’s shoulder.
“Can we go now? I’m feelin’ kinda closter-phobic,” Goofy said, his nose stuffed into Pinkie’s side.
“Air…! Need air…!” Pinkie said, through a face full of Dash’s ankle.
“We’ll get it, Pinkie...Everypony ready? On three.,.Three!” Dash said.
In one sudden movement, the goofs all shoved their weight backward, tumbling so that the open end of the bin faced down. Placing whatever digits they could on the floor, they all shuffled away to the next safest place to hide.
“I have an itchy! Somepony scratch it,” Pinkie whispered.
“Where?” Dash asked.
“Everywhere!” Pinkie replied, as the soot started seeping between every hair on her body.
Max watched in mortified awe at the sight. Everything he knew in that moment was thrown to the mists beyond the ship. Bins were walking on their own, and he was to tell it to nobody.
One of the weasels working at the chemistry station walked away to get a new filter mask. After retrieving one from a crate, he turned around and was about to go right back to work. Until he noticed something strange.
A black bin, just like the ones he and the others collected dried mushrooms from, was set before himself. One that he knew for certain had not been there before he went to retrieve a new mask. And there was nobody else around to have put it there. For all the circumstances revealed, it had simply walked there all on its own.
Not wanting to simply leave it, the weasel did the responsible thing and tried to pick it up.
The moment that it was mere centimeters off the ground, it slammed itself back to the floor.
“Eh?” the weasel said.
He tried heaving it off of the floor, only for it to remain firmly planted. Next, the weasel tried shoving it along, only for the bin to start listing slowly to a different direction.
“Hey! Buckaneer! Get me a crowbar over here!” the weasel called.
“Get it yourself, ya bleedin’ waster!” came the reply.
“Who youse callin’ a waster!? I done more than ten weasels’ share o’ work!”
During the argument, the goofs took the opportunity to make good their escape. Quietly as they could, they started shuffling away in their bin.
The weasel was done arguing, and was about to take another swing at moving the errant bin. Only, he found that it was moving on its own. Now, he knew there was something unusual going on.
As the bin shuffled along, he slowly crept up behind it.
Under the bin, Pinkie felt her nose twitching again.
“There’s another one coming!” she said.
“Anuther whut? Not a weasel!?” Goofy asked.
“Worse! Another snee-heee! Another snuh-huhhh! Another hoychee-hee-hay-hwa--”
“Stop her! She’ll blow our cover!” Dash said.
As best as they could, Dash and Goofy tried to cork another sneeze. Except, it proved difficult in such cramped conditions.
“Let go of my hoof!”
“Who’s grabbin’ my ear?”
“Hey! That’s my tail!”
“Whut’re yuh mussin’ my collar for?”
“Got it!” Dash finally said, when she felt her hooves clasp onto a snout.
“No yuh don’t,” Goofy said, rather nasally.
Pinkie’s face was turning red under her sooty veneer. In seconds, she was going to blow.
“Gotcha!” the weasel shouted, as he leapt on top of the goofs’ bin.
“HWA-HA-HA-HAAAA-CHOO!!!!”
Up went the bin, goofs, weasel and all.
For a moment, the nearby workers stopped and watched as their colleague reached the zenith of his jump, and then went crashing down.
“Holy moly! Too bad there ain’t any bozo olympics! That was a ‘10’ performance right there!” one weasel laughed.
“Olympics nothin’! I was almost blowed up!” said the weasel who tried attacking the bin.
High up, the goofs still clung to one another. Goofy didn’t even need to cast his line to hook onto one of the ventilation ducts. However, the moment he tried to pull them all up, the line started to go slack.
Down they all went, just as the other weasels went to help their colleague.
Goofy reeled as hard as he could, and felt the line go taut just as the weasels were directly beneath them all.
“Ain’t seen a jump like that since my uncle Skeev was bucked off a rabid bronco,” one weasel said.
“Yeah. I never saw a bin go as bad as dat one. What happened?” asked another.
“Don’t know. All I can find in here is some raw shrooms an’ some soot,” said the weasel who was blown up.
Pinkie started scratching herself, making the soot in her coat sprinkle to the floor below.
Looking down, Dash and Goofy both knew it was only a matter of time before the workers noticed the unusual precipitation.
Pinkie started more vigorously scratching her itches, twisting and turning her body as she did. Through the effort for salvation, she began reeling them all upward by wrapping the fishing line around their bodies.
In seconds, possibly quicker than Goofy could have reeled them up, they were up atop the vents, and tied up like a big, goofy turkey.
“Okay...I got this,” said Goofy, whose legs were not tied.
Slowly, he rose to his feet.
“Doin’ good...Doin’ reeee-ee-ee-eeeal!!!”
They all started tilting to one side.
Dash quickly spread her wings, and let them balance them all out again.
With a careful lean, Goofy started teetering back to standing.
“Thanks, Dash,” Goofy said.
“No problem. Now, let’s go. We’re in the home stretch here,” Dash said, motioning forward.
She was right. There, at the end of the vent was a landing that led right to the exit. Of all the luck, somebody had left the door open for them. And with no time wasted Goofy started shuffling forward.
There came a support fixture in the middle of their path.
Pinkie outstretched her one free hoof and hooked onto it, while Goofy swung himself around it. After the initial spin after landing, Dash spread her wings again to restore their balance. And with a heavy lean forward, they all shot toward the end.
Goofy nearly went right over the edge. But, with a flap of her wings, Dash set them all back to solid ground.
Now, they were safe. But, there was still one major problem with their escape: the way across was too far for them to jump.
That wasn’t going to stop Goofy, who started backing up for a running start.
“Not even!” Pinkie said, making Goofy screech to a halt.
“Do you have any better ideas?” Dash tersely asked.
In truth, Pinkie had no ideas. But, she wasn’t about to risk falling to the ground below and be discovered by the weasels.
She idled with the hook that rested against her foreleg.
“The hook!” Pinkie declared.
Neither Dash nor Goofy could ask what about it, when Pinkie took the hook and passed it over to Dash.
“Pass it to me!” Pinkie said, as she peered around Goofy’s back.
Dash did as instructed, and passed the hook over to Pinkie.
Over and over the mares passed the hook, and Goofy started to see what was happening. The line was growing longer, and would soon reach the next anchor point.
After several passes, the line tangled up on itself, preventing any more passes. And from the look of it, it wasn’t enough to reach the door.
Goofy took the line in his teeth and started twirling the hook around. Then, he took a step backward.
There was nothing for it. It was the only chance they had.
As one, the goofs held their breath. All sounds were shut out to them, as Goofy ran to the edge and jumped for all he was worth.
He jerked his head and let the hook fly from his teeth.
The little hook shot through the air, the gossamer line trailing behind it.
Goofy’s aim had been true. The hook snagged onto the frame above the door. And with Pinkie reeling them all up as she was itching all over again, she reeled them up just enough to clear the railing.
Out they went through the open door. And with a crash, they arrived to the safety of the empty hall beyond.
The crash had knocked them all loose from the bind of the fishing line. And from the crumpled heap of goofs, Dash spun from the floor into the air and landed gracefully on her hooves.
“Did you see that!? We beat the weasels with ingenuity and a fish hook! I should write my own book! I’d outsell A.K. Yearling by a billion copies!” Dash boasted.
Neither of her friends seemed so enthusiastic, as they both groaned on the floor.
“Aw, come on. It wasn’t that bad,” Dash said.
“It was scary! It was icky! And I got sneezed on by an oven! It was, Dashie! It was!” Pinkie said, as she scratched herself all over.
At that moment, steps were heard coming up the metal steps behind them.
“Hide!” Goofy said.
In that long hallway, there was nowhere to hide. And the creature climbing the steps was too close to not notice them running around the corner.
Dash tried climbing the walls.
Pinkie scuffed her hooves to somehow burrow under the carpet.
Goofy stumbled over both of his friends, bumped into a wall and slumped to the floor.
His fishing rod and his hat landed in his lap, and Goofy was suddenly struck by inspiration.
Planting the rod upright on the floor, Goofy snagged the back of his shirt onto the hook. He then grabbed Dash and Pinkie both, and pulled them underneath his jacket.
“What are you doing!?” Dash said.
“Just keep real quiet! An’ don’t move!” Goofy said.
The goof pulled his arms, legs and head into his own shirt.
Catching on to the plan, the mares both followed suit, pulling their legs, heads and tails into Goofy’s jacket.
One last touch, and Pinkie stretched Goofy’s hat wide over the opening atop Goofy’s shirt, covering the top of the goof’s head, and any equine ears that were showing.
The steps arrived at the top of the stairs, and Dash quickly pulled her tail up inside of the hiding place, just as the steps’ owner arrived.
Miss Argente peered around the hallway, seeing nobody around. A great relief to her, after the nerve wracking experience in the ship’s underbelly.
“Alright. It’s safe to come up,” she called behind herself.
Max appeared from around the door frame, and scanned for any more dangers that may present themselves. Once the threat level seemed satisfactory, he trotted out to Miss Argente’s side.
“Let’s go. We need to get back to Monsieur Cray’s office,” Miss Argente said, guiding Max along with a gentle hoof.
Max did as he was instructed, but stopped when he noticed something.
There in the hallway was a strange and flimsy-looking coat rack that he swore had not been there before. How it was able to stand up under the weight of the bulky coat and hat that hung from it was beyond him.
But, at the same time, it was somehow familiar and natural to him. Something about the off-kilter way it all looked, and the style of clothing seemed like something he knew from nearly every day of his young life.
All on its own, the jacket began to sway, and a bottle of hot sauce dropped from inside of it.
Remembering what Miss Argente had told him about keeping away from anything that didn’t seem natural, Max hurried down the hallway after her. And he stayed with her well after he followed her around the corner.
The sounds of their steps faded completely, and Goofy’s jacket began to swing harder, until finally it deposited three goofs from within.
“Rrgh!! This soot! Get it off me!! This is worse than fleas!!” Pinkie said, as she rabidly scratched herself all over.
Goofy and Dash both grabbed Pinkie by her front and rear hooves, turned her over, and started rubbing her back against the floor like she was a piece of sandpaper.
“Gawrsh, that was close. I thought we’d had it fer sure,” Goofy said.
“Well, it’s over now. Even if Pinkie almost blew if for us at the end there,” Dash added.
“I’d like to see you sit still when you have itchies this bad!” Pinkie retorted, as she was scratched against the floor.
“I once had an elephant frisk me head to toe fer sum peanuts, an’ that tickled sumthin’ fierce. Felt it fer almost an hour after,” Goofy said.
“An elephant? How does stuff like that happen to you?” Dash asked, as she took hold of Pinkie’s head and scrubbed her mane against the floor.
“Just comes frum bein’ Goofy, I guess.”
“I don’t know--if I could stand--being that goofy!” Pinkie said, as she was rolled from side to side.
“Tell me about it. I don’t envy the guy who has to deal with a tickling elephant,” Dash said.
Pinkie was picked up and set to her hooves.
“I don’t envy the guy who’s gotta clean this carpet later,” Goofy said, overlooking the black streak that they had left.
Pinkie shook the last of the soot from herself, and collected her bottle of hot sauce.
“Now, I feel like Pinkie again,” she said.
No sooner did she finish speaking did the static she accumulated on the carpet catch up to her. Her mane and coat stood on end, and Goofy’s hat flew from his head to her own.
When Goofy tried to retrieve his hat, there was an incredible popping sound, and Goofy and Pinkie both jumped into the air.
Pinkie’s hair all returned to normal, and Goofy’s hat flew through the air and landed on his head.
Before anything more could be said, more steps were heard coming from the direction the previous two creatures left from.
There were no thoughts in the goofs’ heads, as they ran full throttle in the opposite direction.
Down the hall and around the corner, another door awaited at the end of the next hallway.
Dash arrived first, and started opening the door.
After her, Pinkie crashed into Dash’s back.
Finally, Goofy tripped and fell into Pinkie, making them all crash through the door.
“I think we’re all a little too Goofy today,” Pinkie groaned.
The sounds of the room reached their ears all of a sudden, and they then realized that they were a world away from the underbelly of the ship.