All Tied Up and No Place to Go Ms. Darkwing swung her knife like a ninja chef at a seven-course dinner. She knew how to use it. Our eyes locked. She sneered. I sneered back. We each stepped forward. Then I heard it: a faint buzzing above us. I spared a quick glance. A fat, juicy fly was circling lazily. Ms. Darkwing saw it, too. Her mouth twitched; saliva dribbled from the corner. Just as she opened up to make her move, I shot out my tongue and nabbed the fly. Bull's-eye. Even on her best day, no bat can beat a quickdraw gecko when there's food at stake. Ms. Darkwing snarled. "Smooth move, Gecko. Now let's see if you're fast enough to beat my friends." Suddenly the doorway behind her filled with a tough armadillo and a huge, evil cat. Squint and Knuckles. Sounded like a good name for a comedy team. But somehow I didn't think I'd like their jokes. "Tie 'em up," said Knuckles. "Why is it crooks always want to tie me up?" I said. "It's getting boring. Can't you guys think of anything original?" They exchanged puzzled looks.
