In response to and greatly inspired by the challenge set by The Third Biker Scholar (an amazing writer, please do more).

This is my first FanFic ever, and I hope it won't be my last :-)

I wish I owned the Biker Mice but I don't, because if I did I would make a live-action movie (with the special effects we have nowadays who wouldn't?).

The First April Fool

For the fifteenth time that week the back door of the garage hung drunkenly from its lower hinge. With Limburger occupied reconstructing his new tower (delayed by an anonymous phone call to US immigration about illegal workers on site...), three giant humanoid mice were starting to show their boredom.

It didn't help that a documentary on African primates had recently aired on television, and it was purely by chance they had even seen it - the baseball game they had been tuning in for had been cancelled unexpectedly. Despite their initial groans of disappointment, the three Martians had soon settled down to enjoy the show. A little too much perhaps.

Charley sighed. She wasn't sure the door would even fit back in the frame this time.

"For once could you guys just GO somewhere else to play!" she shouted, her voice now failing slightly from repeated cursing. "What the heck is your scoreboard hangout for if not for playing Tarzan or whatever it is you think you were doing?"

Three sheepish faces peered tentatively over the back of the couch, their large ears noticeably drooped.

"We're sorry, Charley-ma'am" trembled the grey-furred mouse.

"Yeah, we will fix it, promise!" The white mouse declared this quite valiantly, considering the look on the human woman's face.

"Not after the last time you tried to FIX my door, Vincent" Charley spat, the venom in her tone saved for the last two syllables. "Now – OUT! All of you!"

Three tails vanished from the small, battered garage in a cloud of dust and smoke and screeching tires. The three mice knew better than to stick around when Charley was this mad.

Once they had gone, the beleaguered mechanic applied herself once more to fixing up her garage. She muttered to herself as she worked, determined to think of some way of repaying those rambunctious rodents for another day spent tidying up after them when she should be working. Not to mention the spiralling costs for repairing her building. Glancing at the clock back in the room to note the time (Damn those mice have set me back another hour!) Charley's eyes paused briefly at a picture on the wall, a 1959 Harley Davidson Sportster XLH, and then drifted lower. A dark smile was beginning to spread across her face, framing the evil glint in her previously glaring eyes into what could only be described as a vengeful, somewhat scary expression.

Back at the scoreboard, boredom clearly was the true master of invention. Jealous of all the 'cool toys' the zoo apes were kitted out with, the mice had decided to make their own indoor, swing-filled playground. Thick ropes were draped from the steel girders and platforms. A tire swing was attached to one and had been installed right in the middle of the large room, and rope-ladders, trapeze swings and tight ropes were attached to various others. Every mattress had been hauled from the bunks and placed under some of the more dangerous rope toys, and various cushions and other soft objects filled in the gaps.

"So who wants to go first?" The tan-coloured mouse was eyeing his white-furred cousin. Vinnie was bound to be the eager volunteer, he was sure of it.

"Me, me!" was his predictable response, and soon he was dangling from the highest of all the rope swings, supported only by his long, muscular tail.

"What's up bros? Too chicken to try this out for yourselves?"

The taunt, a thinly-veiled attempt to get his friends up there in the rafters with him, worked quicker than the threat of a tetanus booster.

"Hey Modo! Look what I can do!" cried Vinnie, who was now balancing dangerously in a one-handed handstand on the tightrope.

"Hey Throttle" Modo turned to the tan-furred mouse swinging lazily below them on the tire. "Look what I can do!" And with that he stretched his robotic right arm towards the taut rope, the laser cannon within fully extended. A flash of blue light, a squeal of terror, and the mattress had claimed its first victim.

"Not funny bro" heaved the ball of white fur sprawled out on the springy cushion. Throttle was laughing so much he hadn't realised his back end had slipped through the tire, and that he was now hopelessly stuck. Several minutes, and several photographs later, two tear-sodden mice finally were able to keep a straight face long enough to help pull him free.

"This has to have been the BEST afternoon ever" said Vinnie between gasps of mirth.

"Glad someone is having a good time"

They had been so absorbed in their own amusement they hadn't even noticed the auburn-haired mechanic enter the room. She was trying her best to look stern, and it was working well because the laughter cut off like a tripped switch. Inside, however, Charley was not only impressed by how literally the mice had taken her earlier advice... but just how ridiculous they all looked. Kind of like they had been caught in the middle of something naughty – the classic chocolate round the toddler's mouth situation.

"Err hey Charley" began Throttle, trying his best not to sound too guilty, "look we're really sorry about the door. And all the other mess we've made".

"It's ok, I forgive you" she replied simply. The three mice grinned with relief. They didn't like to make the lady mad... and she could be very inventive with punishments if she was in the mood. It looked like they would be spared the duty of unblocking the drains this time, or worse... cleaning under the cushions of the couch.

"So, when you guys have finished aping around in here, I have some things I would like you to do, you know, to make up for the time I've wasted cleaning up after you. Be back at the garage tomorrow morning, 9am sharp."

As Charley turned to leave, the three mice could have sworn they heard her mutter under her breath 'or else...'

"You don't think... you don't think she meant..." Vinnie began, shuddering at the thought of all that long, wiry hair mixed with gunk and god-knows-what in the u-bend of the bathroom sink.

"I hope not" sighed Throttle. Modo looked as if he were about to be sick.

The next morning, three nervous mice clambered off their idling motorcycles in front of the Last Chance Garage. The shutters were down, and even their remote-controls didn't seem to have any effect. They were staying stubbornly closed.

"That's weird... she definitely said meet here at nine." Modo was worried. Charley wasn't normally one for just disappearing, not when she had asked them to be there at a specific time. "You think she just went out for parts, or food?"

"I sure hope so". The alternative didn't bear thinking about. "Let's go round the back, she just might not have opened up shop yet".

A note was tacked to the outside of the door. It read 'Upstairs' and after a quick glance at it they all relaxed. Everything was fine. Charley hadn't opened up yet. She was probably still getting dressed.

The thee mice pulled open the rear door and entered the back hallway that led to both the lounge area and the small kitchen. The lights were off in the downstairs passage, and just as Throttle was about to flip the switch he was suddenly thrown forward onto the floor, crushed by both of the other mice. Half winded, he wondered what the hell they were playing at.

"Sorry, bro, something just shoved me from behind and I tripped over Vinnie" panted Modo, clearly taken aback by the stealthy attack. "Think there's someone here that shouldn't be?" he added, glancing behind him. Throttle heaved himself up and flipped the light switch. There was no one else other than themselves in the passage, but the back door appeared to be swinging as if someone had just left.

Eager to be sure there was no one waiting outside to harm them, or worse Charley, Throttle pushed the door open and stepped back outside. He saw only their bikes waiting patiently in the rear yard, and there was no sign of an intruder. He barely had time to process this information when he too was shoved roughly to the ground.

His lightening quick reactions saw him on his feet in seconds, his purple laser pistol aiming right where he had been standing. There was no one there, just the door swinging shut.

"You ok bro?" came the sound of his equally breathless friend. Vinnie's head appeared through the backdoor.

"Whoa, don't shoot bro, its only me!"

"I should do, what do you think you are playing at, shoving me to the floor like that?"

Vinnie looked wounded. "Wha'choo mean bro, I was inside with Modo – is there someone else out here?"

Throttle stroked his snout with puzzlement. There was something strange going on here, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Vinnie stepped outside to help his bro off the floor, and turned back to call Modo.

THUD.

Vinnie was sprawled on his back, once again on top of his tan-furred friend.

"Gerroff me" came the muffled grunt from beneath the muscular mass of mouse.

Back on his feet again, and with his pistol still cocked, Throttle wheeled around for their hidden assailant. Vinnie was now sporting a bloody nose and the beginnings of what would later be described as a 'spectacular shiner'.

But there was no one there.

Modo's voice came from behind the door. "You guys ok out there?"

"Yeah, fine bro... whoever it was seems to have gone now". With one last wary look around the yard, Throttle and Vinnie once again entered the garage. They had barely made it through the door when the three of them were in a sprawling heap on the floor.

"What-the-h..." began Modo, himself now buried under two rather warm, furry bundles, both of whom were quivering with alarm. But he cut his question short, his large ears had picked up a familiar sound somewhere close by.

Shoving off his two friends, the large grey mouse staggered to his feet, and stumbled into the lounge and over to the couch. There, on the other side of the furniture and tucked out of their view, was a very pink-skinned woman curled up into a ball, her hands pressed tightly over her mouth.

Charley peered up at the embarrassed-come-annoyed looking face, his grey fur wrinkled into a scowl. She couldn't hold it in any longer.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!

The look on their faces was priceless.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!

"Ch...Charley... You?" the incredulous Vinnie was now also staring at the wild-faced woman, who was clearly dangerous and out of control.

"APRIL FOOLS!" she yelled at each of them in turn, dancing gleefully around the room.

"April what?" Three confused faces looked first at the laughing woman and then at each other.

Through several bouts of the giggles the purple-faced mechanic explained.

"I was so angry at you for wrecking my door, but then I noticed the date on the calendar and I knew it was too good an opportunity to miss" Charley ended her explanation with unashamed triumph. "Perhaps you will think again before monkeying around in my garage."

They still looked bewildered, so she went onto show them just how well she had 'fixed' the broken back door.

"Swing-hinges" she explained with a gleeful flourish.

Perhaps the mice did not realise that April fool's day was restricted to one day per calendar year, or perhaps they didn't care. They certainly didn't forget the trick that Charley had played on them. Three weeks later the incident had been pushed from her mind, buried under her excess workload. Charley didn't even have time to think about the mice, or their destructive boredom. She had banished them from the garage that morning, and was simply was glad of the peace.

By the end of the long, hard day she had earned herself an equally nice, hot shower. The steaming water gushed over her aching body like a glorious, soothing massage. She worked her cinnamon-smelling shampoo into her scalp (a scent the mice actually approved of), her eyes closed and her nostrils filling with its scent. The bubbles washed away, and with her eyes still closed she reached for the conditioner (also cinnamon). As her hand grasped for the plastic bottle her fingers brushed against something soft... and it wasn't the wash cloth.

Charley opened her eyes and took in the huge, black monster; a hairy body surrounded by eight equally hairy legs. A glass-shattering scream followed, answered by every canine within a three-block radius. The terrified woman hurled herself out of the shower, slipping on the soap on the floor of the tray, coming crashing down onto her towel rail. She continued scrambling frantically in a mass of towels and pipework, when a voice floated up from the downstairs.

"Charley-ma'am... are you ok up there?" There was a hint of amusement hiding somewhere in the concern.

Realising the mice were back, she managed to gather herself together and wrap one of the crumpled towels around her petite feminine form. She wasn't going to give them another excuse to think she was too fragile to join them in battle.

"Yeah, i'm fine, just slipped on the soap AGAIN" Charley yelled downstairs. One of them was going to be in trouble for that, she thought.

She turned back to the shower and approached it slowly, almost afraid the giant spider was going to leap out at her. She wouldn't normally have stayed in the same building as one for so long (let alone the same room), but she was suspicious. She reached out her hand, plucking up all the courage she thought she could ever muster, and grabbed hold of the beast. A mass of black pipe-cleaners wound round each other. It was very convincing, she had to give them that.

Half an hour later, a calm and fully-dressed Charley made her way into the lounge.

"You know what, I was thinking you mice could really do with a break from all the goon bashing." She was eyeing the mice carefully, looking for any signs of guilt.

"Oh yeah... what did you have in mind Charley girl?" Throttle raised an eyebrow. Charley was planning a holiday for them after what (he suspected) had just happened?

"Yeah... I was thinking about booking one of those spa-days I told you about. You remember don't you, hot saunas, massages, facial treatments... other treatments..?" she glanced at Vinnie. He was just on the verge of querying the 'other' treatments when Charley stopped him.

She was holding the mass of pipe cleaners in her fist, glaring at each of them and daring them to laugh.

"So help me, god, if I find out which of you is responsible for this, someone is going to get up close and personal with a Brazilian wax!"

Wide eyed and gulping, the three mice unconsciously placed their hands below their belts in the manner of a protective shield. Clearly they did remember.

The tension in the air was almost tangible.

"It was Vinnie" blurted out the other two simultaneously, before hurrying out the door and far away from the reach of the angry woman, and their stricken friend. There was nothing they could do to save him now anyway.