Meanwhile, down the street in an old abandoned sawmill, Charpa was busy at work on a plan. No one had noticed the big burly brute who had been arriving nightly with several truckloads full of wooden planks of all sizes. Charpa had a plan "and a damned good plan at that," she thought to herself as she watched the wood being stacked in the corner haphazardly. "This is a good a plan as we have, seeing as no one else really has a plan," she said to no one in particular as she motioned the big burly brute to begin work as planned. In turn, he ordered his big burly crew to get to work.
If all went well, in a few days the structure would be built and she could tell the others. It would only be a matter of time now before Masterchev and Jean Le Fete were free and they could all finally leave this hellish bourough, burrow, errrr borough. She knew they had to get rid of the gerbils first though, and that's where her plan came in. Skoob was the only one she could trust with her idea so she headed over to the pub to talk to him.
Charpa walked swiftly into the bar and asked for Skoob by name. "Hey, Skoob," she said staring directly at Skoob." "What?" he said. It was exactly the answer she expected from him. "Pour me an Irish luck, heavy on the Crème de Menthe, no rocks, and wait for me to take a sip before listening to what I am about to tell you."
"Are you sure, Charpa? Crème de Menthe?" Jesus, that is one nasty imbibement."
"Don't you mean drink?" said Charpa as she threw the plans she was holding onto the bar and hopped gingerly onto a waiting stool. "It's not easy keeping your breath fresh in these harsh conditions. It's the closest thing to Scope I can find. Now quit asking questions and just pour."
Skoob did as he was told, holding his nose as he untwisted the cap on the Crème de Menthe to block out the horrible sweet, minty smell. He pushed the nasty concoction toward Charpa and turned to attend to his other barmanly duties when she said, "hey, wait, I came here for more than just a cocktail. I've come up with a plan."
He rolled his eyes toward the heavens. He'd heard it before. The old-timers, they'd given up on plans, but the ones who came later, they weren't yet privy to exactly how Mark operated. They were the ones who always thought there was a better way and they always had a plan. Yep, he'd heard it all before but something in the way she said it, the hope in her voice, made him turn around and listen.
"Listen," said Charpa, "I've hired a crew and they're busy at work right now on something that will distract the bloody gerbils long enough for us to figure out how to spring Masterchev and Jean Le Fete from jail."
"You mean, you have a half-assed plan, right Charpa? If we can agree that it's a half-assed plan, then I'll listen to you."
Charpa let out a deep sigh and thought to herself, "Man, you can't catch a break sometimes with these old-timers. They want everything just so," but she said out loud "Sure, Skoob, have it your way. It's a half-assed plan, can I explain now?"
Charpa unrolled the plans that she brought in with her that described the plan she had to distract the gerbils. When she told Skoob what it was, at first he started to chuckle, and then he outright laughed and said "You have to be kidding me right? Is this what I think it is?" he asked as he read the caption at the top of the paper out loud, 'Giant Gerbil Distraction Device, aka Exercise Wheel.'