The Weasels drove through town as slowly as possible without rousing suspicion. They were starting to regret the decision of calling Pete first. He couldn't be trusted to keep his fly up let alone catch the Mouse that had been giving him an ulcer for over 80 years, but they couldn't contact someone else now. If Pete found out, he would throw a temper tantrum and call them out for breach of contract, even though there was none. They wouldn't be able to send in the big guns until Pete inevitably failed at the job. Meanwhile, they would keep an eye out for the Mouse themselves. If they found him first, they wouldn't have to wait on the big idiot to louse things up.
"Build a better mousetrap and the world'll beat a path to yer door," the Head Weasel muttered.
"Mice is harder to get rid of than cockroaches," the Psycho one added.
"Whaddaya think Doom's gonna do with 'im?" the Dim Weasel inquired from the back seat.
The Sly Weasel replied, "Who cares? What I'd like to know is who's gonna be the one to comfort his woman when he's gone?"
"What?" the Head Weasel scoffed.
" Ya know I got a thing fer brunettes."
"I get his can opener when he's gone!" the Psycho Weasel demanded.
The Dim Weasel chimed in, "And I get his dog!"
"No way! You were supposed ta watch 'im last night and ya didn't even feed 'im, water 'im, or let 'im out to pee!"
"Who cares?!" the Head Weasel groaned.
"Do ya think he's got anything flammable in his garage?"
The Psycho Weasel continued making a list of all the hazardous objects he wanted when the Mouse was out of the picture. The Head Weasel sank down into his seat, feeling a massive migraine coming on, so he didn't see the familiar figure hurriedly ducking into an alley.
Mickey leaned against the cold concrete wall and held his breath as the van went by, not even wanting to think about how close he'd come to getting caught. It was really a miracle he was still standing after last night, and he was finding it more and more difficult to breathe without his heart pumping. It was a strange feeling not having a heartbeat. It was like there was a cold, cavernous hole inside of you that was slowly filling with cement. This was just the way it felt when it happened to him back in Wasteland, not that he was going to get nostalgic about losing his heart. How Oswald dealt with this torture for eighty years was beyond comprehension.
He wouldn't be able to go on like this forever. He would have to find someone to help him, but he options were limited. He couldn't call Donald or Goofy and risk getting them in trouble with Darling. He'd have to explain too much to the police, that is if they believed his story at all. The only person who really came to mind was Gremlin Gus. Back in Wasteland, he'd fought alongside Mickey every step of the way. He really could use a friend like that right now, because for all intensive purposes the Mouse didn't have a friend in the world anymore.
Mickey suddenly had the wind knocked out of him and felt himself being shoved into a dusty bag, which was quickly tied closed.
"Oh, we got 'im!" a voice laughed.
"What'd I tell you guys? Easy money!"
"That Pete is such a twit!"
If Mickey though he had a hard time breathing before, he was suffocating in this bag. He even began to pass out as he felt himself being thrown into the back of a flatbed truck.
"Hey, Donald, ain't those the Beagle Boys?"
Goofy pointed toward the rusty pickup that was driving away with the three thugs inside, laughing and slugging each other in the arms.
"Focus, Goofy!" Donald quacked. "The sooner we find Mickey, the sooner I can go home and go back to bed!"
"Are you sure we shouldn't check his house?"
"Goofy, how many times did we call him?"
"And how many times did he answer?"
"So, he's not AT his house, you big palooka!"
"Are ya sure it wasn't a wrong number
The Duck groaned and started muttering under his breath again.
"But, Donald, I still don't get what's goin' on here."
"We've been over this a million times, Goofy! Mickey broke up with Minnie, she's sad, and we need to find out why!"
"Well, she's probably sad because Mickey broke up with her."
"Not Minnie you doggone, flatfooted
Donald went into a terrible rant, attracting quite a bit of attention from passersby. Goofy was just too much of a sweetheart to understand what was happening. He couldn't believe that Mickey would do such a terrible thing to Minnie, and he probably never would. He was no genius, but he had a naïve sort of common sense that told him there was something else behind all of this.
If only it had told him to follow after the Beagle Boys