Chuckle's Story

            The nemesis wore a long sleeved jacket. It was long, down to Nemesis' knees. It looked much like Captor's but Nemesis' was newer. Fresher. Whiter. Chuckles had found new prey.

            Henry "Hank" Livingston was the new intern. He had been born in Canada but his parents were Swedish, and thus he was automatically an E.U. citizen, and his application to have an internship at CERN in his third year working on his Ph.D in physics was shuffled to the top of the pile, seemingly by the fates themselves.

            Indeed, fate had a very interesting internship in store for Hank.

            It started with the small things. Chuckles had mastered the ability to exit his cage undetected, just to develop and unleash his plans for world annoyance (or at least annoyance just in the lab). It was kind of like world domination, but instead of being in charge and ever having to deal with the headaches of dissent and riots, secret police and all such things, all you did was cause the already established establishment to get so annoyed they tore their hairs out. Soon everyone would be balding, women would no longer wish to marry these men, and the human race would die out!

            It was a very rough plan, but chuckles was not a details kind of lab mouse.

            At night, when almost everyone had gone home for the night, home to their dogs and their cats, home to their warm hearthfires of love and respect, (very vile things if you asked Chuckles) the mouse would break out of his cage and eat the notes all the Nemesis' would work on so furiously, especially his main captor, Franks G. Hansson. He would then toss sensitive lab equipment off of tables and ruin test samples whenever he got the chance.

            At least, that's what he used to do. The cursed ability of the Nemeses to learn had prompted them to lock their equipment away at night, and to take their notes home to work on. In fact, Chuckles hadn't wreaked on havoc in months! He was beginning to doubt himself and his abilities, and no one knows this but self-doubt in a mouse can be fatal!

           

            But Hank, fresh to the world of the CERN lab, had no idea of any of these proceedings. He was working late, trying to get ahead, impress his boss, Herr Hansson. He was sitting in his employers office, glancing up every now and then with 'cute' glances at Chuckles (a gesture that infuriated the maniacal mouse), finishing up some calculations for an experiment they would be conducting the next day, presetting the controls so that everything would be ready for the morning. He had just now finished, and was just starting to clean up, when he thought he heard a peculiar noise.

           

            This was folly. He had not heard any noise of any kind, except maybe the kind that is invented in your own head when you alone in a strange place and feel slightly anxious even though you would never admit any such thing to yourself. But investigate this fake noise Hank did, and leave the door open he did.

            Wasting no time, Chuckles sprang into action.

           

            Slipping the single piece of splinted wood he kept on hand for the occasion of unlatching his cage, Chuckles leaped from his cage, rolling on the floor to keep momentum, and bolted for the open doorway. Only once before had he ever tried such on endeavor, and he had been caught immediately. But now, the inexperienced and slow moving hands of the New Nemesis were no much for Chuckles ninja like speed and agility.

            "No!" Hank cried, but Chuckles paid no heed. Actually, Chuckles didn't even know the nemeses' had an intelligible language between them, all he heard were grunts and squeaks. He was totally convinced they had no cue what they were doing with the knobs and buttons in their facility.

           

            Chuckles dashed down the hallway and Hank chased after. Still he persisted in calling after the mouse: "Come back! Charles, no, uh, Chuckie! Chuckie, come back!"

           

            If Chuckles had been able to know Hank had butchered his name he might have turned around and showed him the best mouse-fu kick in the world! But we already discussed why that couldn't happen.

            Chuckles dashed into the main control room of CERN, leaping and bounding up a flight of stairs. Hank nearly choked in surprise on the flying mouse, but foremost on his mind was the trouble he would get into if he lost his bosses prized mouse. He could only imagine the figurative flogging you would receive, losing his enviable post, and the respect of his family and friends. Of course, these thoughts distracted him such that he lost sight of Chuckles.

            Chuckles, now in the main control room (though he didn't really know it, having never been outside of his nemesis' lair) and saw only how much annoyance he could cause. To him, causing annoyance was almost like a religion, and he was the most devout practitioner. He was instinctual in his havoc-wreaking, as if guided by some divine god of annoyance. The hum of the falling lab equipment was like a hymn of praise, and he gentle yet destructive movements like a prayer in motion.

            Of course, Hank could hear the commotion and headed right to the room, horrified by what he saw. It wasn't the valuable equipment broken on the floor, or the papers flying in the air, or the sight of a mouse leaping and jumping table to table, but the fact that somehow, this mad mouse had turned on the particle accelerator, pushing on the presets and calculators into motion.

            The beams hummed to life.

           

            The engines of physics rumbled to respond.

           

            Matter was inserted into the collider.

            And Chaos was released.

            Literally.

           

            The antimatter universe was the prison of Chaos himself, and the colliding particles caused a rupture in the delicate fabric of the dimensional universe, and through this passageway stepped Chaos.

            Of course, that was our name for him. Chuckles knew him as Steve, a scaly and brooding dragon who had a problem with the established order. Well, technically he had a problem with order in general, but to Chuckles, even a little order was good. I mean, a mouse needed to eat, and if everything was chaos, eating was hard to do. Really hard. I mean, if everything wasn't atomized already, you had to go about searching for food, and then everything else, wanted what you had, and … well, I digress. Chaos was not something Chuckles wanted.

            Hank was terrified. He had no idea what he was looking except that it looked remarkably like his pet lizard he had back in Canada, Roger. His girlfriend had always teased him that that was a horrible name for a lizard, but whatever. This thing was at least 1,000 times bigger than Roger, and it breathed fire and brimstone. And it was obviously set on destruction. Hank glanced at Chuckles. Chuckles glanced at Hank. And for once, an understanding passed between them.

            Hank ran toward the fire station and grabbed the fire ax. Chuckles knew that wouldn't do much more than distract Steve/Chaos, so he shook his mousey mane. But then, maybe distraction was all he needed. Like a brave warrior, Hank rushed at Chaos/Roger-times-1,000, and swung his ax at his face. The Dragon breathed fire. Hank dodged, then struck out at the tail, but missed. Rolling with the momentum, Hank faced Chaos down the hallway.

            Chuckles was busy recreating the havoc he had wreaked. Pushing the same buttons in the same order (this was very easy, as mice have 100% perfect memories. They just pretend not to so to mess with the nemeses' experiments). Again, the beams hummed to life, the engines rumbled to respond, and matter raced through the collider. The passageway into the antimatter universe was again opened.

           

            Seeing his chance, Hank feinted left, dashed right, then slid on his back, coming right between Chaos' front claws. He kicked the Dragon in his disgusting scaly chest, then swung the ax home and lodged it into Steve's/Chaos' arm. The 1,000 times bigger Roger flew back towards the portal, but seemed to teeter for just a moment, like a person wind-milling their arms on the edge of a ledge, desperate to not fall.

            Chaos/Steve was just about to fall back into the positive universe when Chuckles took action. Bounding and jumping, nearly flying out of the main control room, Chuckles mouse-fu kicked that Dragon right in the face. The Dragon fell back, ax and all, returning to his prison.

            His passage caused a small explosion knocking both Hank and Chuckle unconscious. That's how Herr Hansson found them both in the morning. Noting the peculiar nature of this inter-special slumber party, and wondering exactly what kind of physicists Canada produces, he woke Hank, and placed Chuckles back in his cage. Asking no explanation, none was given, and the only words that Herr Hansson said to Hank was: "Can you talk to the facilities manager? We're missing an ax from the fire station down the hall."

            Back in his prison, Chuckles trembled with rage. His momentary team up with the new nemesis had placed back in cage, and all his havoc wreaking had come to naught.

            Do not think that this is a cessation of hostilities young nemesis, Chuckles thought, this is only the beginning.

The …. End?....