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I do not own the Biker mice.
Fancy Dress Anyone?
By Ceryst
It is a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the birds are calling, the clouds are drifting slowly across the sky like vessels in bright blue seas. Today is a day that all must be right, no one angry, no one upset – yes today is a great day. All people happy…almost.
‘Well I’M not going to do it.’ Vinnie stomped across the garage and parked himself on an old tyre. Throttle followed him voicing the same opinion. Both sat side by side on the tyre, and both rested their chin in their left hand. They looked like a couple of stubborn kids, their tails swished behind them in perfect synchronization.
Modo in the meantime was torn between joining his bros. or agreeing with Charley. He turned to look at her. She lifted up a piece of clothing. Modo stared at the piece of clothing.
‘I’m out.’
He walked over to the tyre and plonked himself down on one of the ends, this caused the tyre to flip up and send a very unsuspecting Throttle and Vinnie crashing into a very startled Modo. The three of them landed in a mountain of limbs, Charley burst out laughing while the three mice attempted to find out the whereabouts of their body parts.
‘OW, OW, stop moving, STOP MOVING!’
The pile of bodies stopped its sorting out when a distressed cry emitted from Throttle. Somehow his leg had got jammed under the tyre, of which Vinnie was stuck on top of. Modo breathed a sigh of relief, for his arm had been getting twisted out of shape by the movement.
‘I’m stuck.’
Throttle stated the obvious before lying his head down on the floor; his legs were elevated above the rest of him making him extremely uncomfortable, he could feel the blood rushing into his head and antenna.
‘Well don’t look at me, unless this big lug here gets his knee out of my back I can’t do anything.’
Charley came waltzing over and grabbed hold of one of the limbs.
‘I will get you out of this if you agree to come with me.’
There was a cry from the pile, nope; they were not quite ready to agree yet.
‘Fine, you get yourselves out of this mess.’
Charley then walked out of the room leaving three very vexed mice. The struggle to pull themselves together continued, every now and then the movement came to a halt as limbs got trapped causing shrieks.
‘You know bros. I think we need Charley’s help.’
They waited for a minute; each surrounded by their own embarrassment of not being able to free themselves.
‘This is all your fault Modo, I hope that you realise that you owe us big time, and I do mean big time.’
With that the cries for help started. Charley sat in the kitchen and listened to the pleas. She was having a great time, she felt so wanted.
After a bit she entered the garage and pushed Vinnie over, this momentum caused the whole pile to fall backwards. It did though allow all limbs to be freed and found by their proper owners. Throttle stood up brushing himself off, but immediately fell back down to the ground, his head was aching from all the blood rushing into it and out of it.
‘Oh, what a rush.’
Vinnie laughed at him ‘to much brain nourishment eh?’ and picked himself up, but it was not long before he joined Throttle on the floor. One of his legs had gone to sleep while they were tangled up and refused to support the weight, Vinnie had a panicky second while he was convinced that he was paralyzed for life.
‘Ok boys, no more of this lying around, we need to get ready, we only have an hour left.’
They all groaned and tried to shoot Modo down with cold stares, Modo just shrugged, smiled cheezily and ran after Charley for protection.
‘So Charley where are these friends of yours? I’m afraid I missed you when you came in.’
Charley looked at her friend. Her name was Fijola. Her hair was straight and perfect; it was so black that in light it shone almost blue. The eyes were gay and sparkled with life, yet they had a hard edge of which you did not want to see. The most noticeable thing about her was what she was wearing; the leather cat-suit clung to her body like a second skin and showed her robust figure. Fijola never thought that being stick thin was what the world needed. She was not fat yet she was not thin either, infact she looked comfortable with rounded hips and a slight bulging stomach.
Her head was covered in a leather mask that had two small cat ears stuck on. Behind her trailed a long black tail. She did not look out of place though because everybody else around her also had on some rather unusual pieces of clothing. For this was not just a party, it was a fancy dress.
Charley scanned the party for the three mice, they had all split up when they entered the party. This surprised her since they walked in practically holding each other’s hands. She spotted Throttle first. He was in a small group of 5 women, one had her arm wrapped around his waist, he had long ago tired of constantly removing it. Charley focused in on the conversation, Throttle’s facial features were becoming very interesting. One minute they were normal and content, but then they contorted into absolute horror and embarrassment. Not only that but he had started edging away from the group, and trying to prize the woman off his waist. When he failed he would just stand there looking at his drink as if it were about to speak to him.
‘No you are quite mistaken.’ The woman with her arm around Throttle’s waist addressed the rest; her speech was slurred due to vast amounts of vodka tonics. ‘I should know. It is medically proven that men perform better in the mornings than at any other time. In the afternoon they find it harder to…well, you know…get some lift.’
Throttle bit down on his bottom lip and continued to squirm. He desperately wanted to be anywhere else but there, he couldn’t believe that he got stuck with the rather more ‘open’ people in the crowd. The other women of the group continued to deny it to be true.
‘OK.’ The woman turned to Throttle and took another sip from her drink. She fixed him with her eyes and produced a half-faced smile. ‘Don’t you find it easier to get more ‘lift’ in the mornings?’
All eyes turned to him. The moment was priceless; Throttle turned a nice shade of pink and squirmed all the more. He rubbed his hair and shuffled his feet making sure that he did not make eye contact with anyone.
‘Um…Well…’
Charley chuckled, turned her attention elsewhere and let her eyes roam over the rest of the room seeking the others. She spotted Vinnie next; women too surrounded him. He had a fixed toothy grin on his face as he demonstrated his masculine body. Sadly though she was too far away to hear what they were talking about, but it would be a good bet that it was about Vinnie.
Next she spotted Modo. He was by the bar learning cocktail making tricks, and was drawing quite a crowd with his flipping bottles and flying glasses. His shooting abilities came in very useful and he never dropped anything.
‘Hey mate, make us a Singapore Sling.’
Modo glanced at a menu and whipped up the vodka bottle and cherry brandy. Simultaneously he poured them into a glass. Next came the lime and soda. Within seconds a glass was presented to the man, he took one sip and nodded his approval. After that the drinks came flying in, and both Modo and the barman were mixing up cocktails.
‘I’ll have a bullfrog.’
‘Need a Zombie.’
‘How about a Long Island ice tea?’
Modo only hesitated when a gorgeous female swaned over to him, leaned over the bar and asked extremely politely.
‘How about sex-on-the-beach?’
Modo dropped the glass he was holding onto and stared at the lady. ‘What?’
‘You know, one part vodka to one part tequila…’
Charley pointed out her friends to Fijola. Needless to say she was impressed.
‘They are quite tall aren’t they. Why the Frankenstein Monster is shorter than they are. And I just love the costumes.’
Vinnie was wearing scarcely anything but a cloth around his waist, his ears were pinned back as were his antenna and he wore white gloves that ended in claws. He made a pretty good-looking yeti. Modo had a pair of black wings attached to his back; his clothing comprised of a ripped black shirt and ripped black trousers. He was the bat out of hell. With Throttle she had had difficulties, what was he to go as? She got her idea when trying to choose a video, a young girl brought back the cartoon ‘The lion King’ and Charley saw the front cover. Yup, Throttle went as a lion. His hair (after much persuasion) was dyed dark brown, as was the tip of his tail. As with Vinnie Throttle had on gloves that ended in claws. He did though refuse to go to the party wearing only a thong, so he wore a small open Levi’s jacket and light beige jeans that were cut at the knees. Charley chuckled to herself when she remembered how Modo had wrestled Throttle to the ground and forced his head into the nearby sink, Vinnie was close at hand to help keep Throttle pinned down. The curses got very colourful and eventually changed into a language Charley had never heard before. When Charley managed to get the dye in his hair it was easier because she kept threatening him. ‘If you don’t stop protesting the dye will run down your back and face and you will look very particular.’
That calmed him down immensely.
‘Where did you get the furry body suits from Charley, they’re ace. And what’s that – red liquorice?’
Meanwhile Throttle was wishing that the earth would open and swallow him whole. He had tried everything to escape his party, but they kept pulling him back in. The only thing left to do was leg it.
‘My husbands much better in the morning than at night, there is actually something noticeably there in the morning. Not that you would ever have any problems with that by the looks of it aye sugar?’
Her hand tightened around his waist and she smiled rather saucily up at him. Throttle was horrified and looked around for anyone who would save him.
‘Now, why don’t you tell us what kind of things your girlfriend does to keep you happy, so that we can keep our men interested – you know, inside knowledge.’
That clinched it. Throttle mumbled something about the bathroom and legged it. While weaving away from the group he groaned out loud, what could be worse and more embarrassing than that?
Across the room the women with Vinnie had been getting a little too friendly for his liking, they kept inquiring about his ‘little cloth’ and what would happen if they tugged at the small knot. He smiled at them and then took off across the floor muttering something about needing a drink; the only real problem was that he was moving away from the bar.
In his haste he failed to notice another body crossing through the crowd at an equally fast pace. Too late the two people looked up and crashed into each other. They tumbled down onto the ground causing all the people around them to fall as well. Drinks went flying through the air before raining down onto the crowds.
Throttle pressed his head onto the cold floor; he had just found something equally embarrassing.
He then felt himself being hoisted off the ground along with Vinnie, when set up right again he was staring straight into Modo’s face. Modo had a stupid grin on his face and giggled at Throttle’s blank expression.
‘The night is still young bros. don’t get too plastered so you can’t see straight just yet.’
With that Modo walked back to the bar and pulled out a bottle of brandy.
Vinnie turned to Throttle (Throttle noticed a pink stain down Vinnie’s neck from a spilt drink but said nothing).
‘To the bar bro.? Nothing can really go wrong there.’
Both mice proceeded towards the bar apologizing all the way. When there they sat down and ordered a B52 each to calm themselves down. After a couple of drinks the mice began to relax, in fact everything that had just happened seemed a dim memory and they felt warm. They spun around on their barstools to face the party and rested their elbows on the bar behind. Charley was dancing with Fijola and this other bloke that the mice did not recognise. Charley was waving her arms about and singing along to the music, she then started spinning on the spot. She went around and around until finally she collapsed onto the floor in a heap. Instead of getting up she put her hands over her head and tried to hide, the man with whom she had been dancing with picked her up. Throttle and Vinnie both smiled and spun around to face the bar again.
‘It’s not so bad when someone else makes an arse of themselves is it?’
‘Nope.’
A few drinks (give or take a hundred) later the mice were still at the bar, by this time Charley had joined them. All were slightly tipsy and were ready for anything.
‘Well Modo my mouse, I said that you owed us big time, now you can repay us. What else can you make?
Modo lent on the bar and leaned in close to Vinnie. ‘I will make you a drink of everything I know, as long as you drink it.’
Vinnie, Throttle and Charley stuck their hands out. ‘Deal, as long as you join us.’
Then it all started, bullfrogs, Singapore Slings, Grasshoppers, Tia Maria, Zombies, margaritas, Long Island ice teas, B52s, B54s, vodka and tonics, Gin and tonics, Pina Coladas, Tequila sunrises, and of course the straight Tequila shots. After awhile a crowd started to gather around the 4 drinkers, and bets were placed as to who would be the first to fold.
The next morning Throttle painfully opened his eyes; he looked around at the rest of his group and then looked at the surroundings, he wondered where they were. It then hit him; all four were still at the bar in the party, except that not many other people were around, in fact they were the only ones. He tried to sit up and was rewarded with a dig in his side, he looked down to see that he was holding onto a traffic cone – now where had that come from? Vinnie groaned and lifted his head; he raised a hand to smooth the fur on top of his head. Then he noticed Throttle looking at him in a particular way, for tied around his wrist was a pair of sock suspenders and a policewoman’s hat.
A door opened behind them and a very rough looking Fijola walked out. She took one look at them and burst into laughter. This caused considerable pain to the mice and woke Modo and Charley.
‘You deserve to be feeling so rough, after all you refused my friendly advise of ‘stop drinking’. Serves you right.’
Fijola walked up to the bar and sat herself down; she looked at the sleepy and drowsy eyes before her.
‘You wouldn’t leave, and none of you would stop drinking. Just to make it worse none of you passed out either.’
Throttle then pointed out the traffic cone and sock suspenders; he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
‘Beats me how you got them, I went to bed yesterday morning and have just woken up. You do know that you have missed a whole day?’
The mice and Charley groaned, they couldn’t even remember what had happened in the party.
The journey home was slow and painful, the sunlight was too bright and the roads seemed to move making driving difficult. Their heads were stuffy and all sounds seemed dim and distance, all except the annoying ringing in their ears. When back in the Last Chance they all collapsed into the first piece of furniture they could find. Vinnie didn’t make it even that far and decided that the floor was more than adequate. Modo crashed out on the couch and accidentally turned on the T.V.
"…And there you have it, nobody knows where it came from. Limburger has been very quiet about the whole incident…"
All eyes were immediately focused on the T.V, the view shifted to show the Limburger Tower. Squalled across the tower was a drawing of a motorbike, it had been burned onto the walls and scratched across the widows. Below it were the words ‘ride free citizens’.
After a day of nothing, a day of quiet, a day of immobility and of course a day of frequent bathroom use the residents of the Last Chance Garage were fit again to be seen in public…well fit anyway.
The first trifle of the day was to remove the washout dye from Throttle’s hair. Once again his head was bent over the sink with Charley scrubbing away, she had refused to let him do it himself incase it dribbled through his fur. After the third wash the colour was reduced to a dirty yellow, so still Charley scrubbed away. Vinnie kept sticking his head around the corner and saying something to try and ruffle Throttle up a bit.
‘You know Throttle, after all these years I had expected you to master the way to wash your own hair.’
And
‘Charley! Are you going to tell him that the colour has turned pink.’
In which case Throttle turned to look at Vinnie and said almost sweetly.
‘But why Vincent, I thought pink was in, why else would you dye your own fur pink?’
Vinnie ‘yeah yeahed’ Throttle and walked out, later he came running in and pushed Throttle out of the way to try and remove the pink drink stain.
The second trifle of the day came when Vinnie realised that his bike had bright yellow and orange flames painted on his bike. Modo immediately burst into laughter, Vinnie immediately came to the conclusion that it was Modo’s doing, Throttle immediately pulled them apart, and Charley immediately picked up a bucket and sponge.
The third trifle of the day came when Throttle’s hair dried – but was so soft and silky from the washing that it lay flat against his head. The other mice found it most amusing and had a wonderful time calling Throttle ‘flathead’.
All swore that fancy dress parties and they did not mix, and so never again.