FIRESTORM:  Mouse Worx 

By David Gonterman 

Everything Disney by The Walt Disney Company, used for Fan 
Fiction purposes only. 
Jonathan Brisby by David Gonterman 

Installment 1 
________________________________________ 

It didn't take Jonathan Brisby, fourth-generation NIMH Rat and 
newest Rescue Ranger, to move into the oak, not with that magic 
box His uncle Copper gave him.  It can expand into any size 
needed and collapse--regardless of what's inside--into the size 
of a playing card; a five of stars, in case anyone would look at 
it.  It makes for a great one-trip move. 

After Jonathan finished with his unpacking, he found Gadget with 
her nose buried in a Popular Mechanics magazine and almost the 
rest of her in printed-out Electronic Mail.  "Hiya, JB.  I heard 
that Roy wanted to see what you look like in Mickey's red pants, 
so he asked this David Gonterman guy to make a sketch showing 
what you look like." 

"Big mistake." 

"Tell me about it, with your chest?  Minnie took one look at it 
and almost thought about breaking up with Mickey so she can take 
*you*.  You're quite a sex symbol, Jonathan." 

"That's me," Jonathan smiled as he looked out a window.  "The 
mouse Fabio." 

"Yeah, you have to shoo away all the girls that want you with a 
chair and a bullwhip. <g>" 

"What can I say.  I've been known to send out certain signals, 
according to some college dude, that attracts the opposite sex 
like a magnet.  I'm wondering, being with three and a half 
eligible men like you've been, have you ever detected some of 
those signals?" 

Jonathan turns to Gadget to find that she hasn't moved from her 
mag.  Surprisingly, for Popular Mechanics, she was at the 
centerfold.  "Golly, they've got the plans for the street-legal 
morphers in here.  I think I'm in loooove." 

Jonathan took a long time and sighed.  "Signal loud and clear. 
I'm gonna get me some coffee, if you don't mind.  See ya later, 
Gadge." 

Gadget finally peeped over the magazine to see him leave, 
wondering why her face was feeling it's warm glow again. 
____________________________________________ 

It didn't take Jonathan long to realize that he was drinking his 
morning cup of java in Donald Duck's seat.  The queerly hungover 
water foul announced the rodent's infraction by chucking him 
through a plane glass window. 

Right to the feet of Mickey Mouse. 

"Oh my gosh!!  You're that Jonathan Brisby character I've been 
told so much about on the Net!!  What happened to you in there?" 

Jonathan slowly got up.  "Fer th' love of flipping *mike!!*  I've 
only been here for two minutes.  I'm not even a bona fide Disney 
Toon yet!!  And *already* I'm getting the marching orders!!" 

Mickey helped him to his feet.  "Really, from who, JB?  (can I 
call you that, heh-heh)" 

They both heard a low drawn-out qwwwaaaaaaaaaaaack. 

"Guess."  Jonathan said. 

Mickey stepped in front of the door and showed Jonathan why he's 
called "The Mouse that Roarth:" 

"DONALD DUCK, FRONT AND CENTER!!" 

The duck took his sweet time to slime his way out into Main 
Street, losing the 'G' rating as the sun hit him directly in his 
bloodshot eyes.  He promptly toppled over to drool on Mickey's 
shoes. 

"GOOD GOSH!!  Your *drunk*!!  And I don't mean Annette 
Funichello's It's Only M-S False Alarm, I mean *Stone Cold 
Drunk!!*" 

Donald answered with a window shaking belch. 

Jonathan mused sarcastically.  "Into this happy land, I bid thee, 
welcome.  Jeez, first Michael Eisner retires, now *this.*"  He 
then shows Mickey that he's joking by smiling ear-to-ear at him. 

Mickey returns to Jonathan's ear.  "You've gotta excuse him, JB. 
He's not usually like this . . . really." 

"You want me to drag his tail feathers back to his house so he 
can sleep it off, sir." 

"Jonathan, please!  You make me look like someone who's on Social 
Security with that 'sir' business!" 

Someone from the crowd muttered, "You're certainly old enough to 
*be* on it!!" 

Mickey protests.  "I'll let you know that I can do pretty well at 
my age, people.  I've been handling Donald here when this kid 
here's still on diapers.  For example, Jonathan here's giving me 
that frozen take bit; like someone's creeping up from behind me. 
That means Donald--" 

Mickey spins around and slugs the Duck, which flops unconscious 
on the ground. 

"--was right over there.  My regards to Slappy Squirrel for that 
gag, by the way." 

"Whoa," JB was impressed, maybe just because his hero was talking 
to him.  "That's pretty neat." 

"Thanks.  Stick with me, son.  I'll be showing you lots of stuff 
you haven't caught on yet." 

"Like taking a hit?" 

"What do you--" 

That was when it was Donald's turn to throw a right cross. 

"Amazing recovery Donnie, maybe they were right about alcohol 
slowing down your brain.  You're unconscious and haven't caught 
on that you *are* yet!" 

Donald responded by quacking something unintelligible; it was 
later translated into, "Oh a wise guy, huh?  Come on, rookie? 
Wanna fight?"  And then he got into his famous one fist forward 
one fist back stance. 

Jonathan caught on to what Donald's mind was on when he saw the 
stance.  "Awwww, isn't that cuuute.  Donald want's to pick a 
fight with me, people.  Probably hasn't noted by now that 
hazing's a crime nowadays.  Not look here, Donald, this place's 
special to me, and I really don't want to spoil this morning with 
a fight this early in--" 

That was all Jonathan got in before having to duck a lunging 
left.  That started a few moments of him baiting and dodging 
Donald until the Duck ran full tilt into a post, stunning him. 

Jonathan used the time to show off a karate-style kata for his 
new-found fans, hoping that a martial arts display will get this 
drunk to think it over.  And impressing his new found fans, by 
the way.  One of them even said, "Awwww, isn't that cute:  A 
rodent Tommy." 

Jonathan promptly flicked out a smoke bomb and quickly changed 
into a green short-sleeved shirt, not missing a beat in his kata. 

That same fan corrected him.  "Uh, I hate to tell you this, but 
Tommy's the *Red*  Ranger now." 

Jonathan rolled his eyes.  "Why hasn't anyone *told* me these 
things?!"  He dropped another smoke bomb from regions 
undisclosed, and his shirt was changed to the proper color. 

"You've gotta excuse me, people.  We don't get TV in Thorn 
Valley.  Heh, we're intellectually advanced but culturally 
deprived, go fig." 

That got some laughter from the crowd until it was seen that 
Donald was leaping at the new mouse, who spun around The Duck and 
threw him into a water jug, which breaks and spills its contents 
upon impact. 

"I didn't know what was more offensive, his B.O. or his breath," 
Jonathan makes his way toward a now-recovering Mickey, "so I 
thought I'd wash *both* of him clean.  Are you O.K., Mickey?" 

Mickey was favoring a bruised right eye, covering it with his 
hand.  "I'll be all right, JB.  I just need an ice pack."  He 
turns to the crowd.  "Let's hear it for Jonathan Brisby, people! 
Maybe I can get him in a short of his own, huh?  Think he's good 
for it?!" 

The crowd applauds as the two mice bow out.  "They like you, 
kid," Mickey whispers to Jonathan.  "You can go far here." 
___________________________________ 

Mickey found his ice pack to nurse his black eye in the oak tree. 
Don't ask how he got *in* there; it's probably the same artistic 
licence known as 'Disney Magic' being used to put JB in Main 
Street USA.  Jonathan fills Gadget and Monty in on what happened 
to them with Donald. 

"Crikey, Mickey!  Do you think Donald's having problems?" 

"And where'd you get the clue, Monty?" 

"JB?" 

Mickey tries to apologize for his colleague.  "Donald Duck's not 
usually like this, I admit it.  Sure, he's out fist bad boy, and 
can get abrasive at times.  And there's always that speech 
impediment he's got, but that drunk this early in the morning. 
You're right, Monterey, something *is* wrong . . ." 

"Yeah, Mick.  Looks like we're back in business, Rangers. 
Hahaha, I thought we'd be done with our adventures when Chip 'n' 
Dale left for the Rescue Aid Society.  I'll call up Zipper. . ." 

Mickey was lost in thought.  ". . . mind if I tag along with you 
three?" 

"You?"  "Huh?"  "Why so?" 

"Well, you do have a space left, and Donald's like family to me. 
Whadayasay?  Want an experiences detective on your team?" 

"Sure?"  "All right?"  "Welcome aboard?" 

"Thanks, heh-heh,"  Mickey catches his breath.  "I know that 
Donald returned from being discharged from his dream job in the 
Navy, but I never got anything on why.  He wouldn't talk about it 
to *anybody*, even Uncle Scrooge and Daisy, two people who he 
would console with.  I'm afraid the conditions of that discharge 
wasn't good, but I don't have any proof." 

Monty scratches his chin.  "It's probably in their computers, I'd 
figure.  Probably in unclassified government records." 

Jonathan asked, "Does anyone know where these records are at?" 

"I think I know someone who do . . ."  Mickey searches through 
his old boy's network in his head.  "Let me use your phone, will 
ya, I think I can find out where . . ." 
_______________________________________________________ 

To Be Continued . . .