“Alvin.  Alvin!  Allllviiiin!”

Alvin startled at his sister’s shout and pulled back from his perch at the edge of the stage’s legs, where he could peer out into the audience without being easily seen.  “What?”

“Stop ogling the audience and giving yourself stage fright.  We’re just here for one song.”

“But there’s so many people out there!  We never get crowds like this.”

Susie giggled.  “Of course, it’s the big Christmas revue.  Lots of popular acts on before and after us.  Stop fretting, nobody’s going to really notice us or even remember us afterward.”

Ken nodded at Susie.  “Pity, but she’s right.  Still, more eyeballs on us is a good thing.  We’re only a month into this gig, and nostalgia just isn’t selling like I’d hoped.  We need to put our mark on it.”

Alvin shrugged his fuzzy shoulders.  “But we’re actual chipmunks.  Isn’t that mark enough?”

Ken snorted.  “Have you seen what walks by every day in this town?  Even if we were ten foot tall chipmunks with lizard tails, we wouldn’t stand out.  Shape ain’t enough, we need style.  Get out there and ham it up.  Your sister is right about one thing - if we bugger this up, nobody’s really going to care.”

Alvin nodded sharply.  “So... misbehave?”

“Let’s do it!” cheered Susie.

Soon it was time for the three venned chipmunks to scamper out on to the stage.  They were taller than the forms that had fit into Alvin’s backpack, as forms that size wouldn’t show well on stage.  The mics on stage had been adjusted to about three feet off the ground for them.

Alvin deliberately got turned around as he scampered to his microphone, and ended up facing the wrong way.  He waved to the backdrop, then leaned to the side to stage-whisper to Susie, “I thought there’d be more people.”

Susie turned him around.   “Ooooh!  There you are!”  Alvin waved at everyone cheerily.  “Merry Christmas Las Vegas!”

A few scattered voices cheered back at him, mostly younger children in the audience.  One little girl in one of the tables up front was staring up at him with stars (or possibly reflected stage lights) in her eyes.

Alvin made sure to ham things up and play to her in particular as they bopped through “Christmas Don’t be Late”, with Alvin deliberately stumbling on some of the cues, making Susie poke him to get him back on mark.  Alvin also updated a few of the wished-for toys, and filled one gap after the chorus with a list of modern electronics that any kid would be happy to have.

The giggles they’d been getting throughout the piece turned into cheers once the music ended, and Alvin blew a kiss to the audience.  Then he winked the little girl who’d been watching so raptly, and followed the others off the stage.

“Not bad, not bad at all” enthused Ken once they were off mic.  “We should do more of that in the regular act.  Alvin’s supposed to be a ham.  Let’s throw some of that into rehearsals tomorrow, so we’re not being caught by surprise and stumbling.  Susie and I have to stay on track, otherwise it doesn’t work.”

Alvin nodded slowly.  “I guess,” he sighed.  “It’s more fun being spontaneous.”

“Spontaneous is good.  But you’ve got to learn to cue us when you’re going off-script.”

Alvin’s smile returned.  “I can do that.”

As they headed back to the dressing room, the stage manager stopped them.  “I’ve got a job for you three.”

Ken looked up at him warily.  “What kind of job?”

“One of our more generous patrons wants a personal show in his suite.  Management would very much like to make him happy.”

“This is one of those jobs where saying no is bad for our careers, is it?” asked Ken wearily.

“I’d rather not put it in those terms,” said the stage manager primly.

Ken rolled his eyes.  Given how big they were in proportion, it was rather overdramatic.  “Fine.  C’mon, kids.  Got an encore to do.”

Alvin and Susie scampered along behind Ken as the stage manager passed them off to one of the ubiquitous staff of the hotel.  “What’s so bad about an encore?”

“On stage?  Nothing.  Privately?  Well...  Whales don’t tend to like taking no for an answer.  So things can get uncomfortable.”

“We’re venned.  How bad can it get?”

Ken laughed wryly.  “Kid, I really hope you don’t find out.”

After a remarkably long ride given the speed of the hotel’s elevators, they stepped out into a luxuriously appointed hallway.  The door to the left opened as the staff member approached, and she ushered them inside then turned away, off to another task.  Inside the suite they were met by a tall man wearing a dressier version of the hotel uniform.  “I’m glad you could make it,” he offered.  “Miss Mindy was very much looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Again?” asked Alvin, but no answers were provided.

Ken shrugged.  “Guess we have a fan.”

They were led through the entry hall into a large, richly appointed sitting room.  There on what looked like a chair custom made for her statue was the little girl from the front row table.  Alvin waved to her cheerily.  “Hiya!”

She giggled.  “Do you always sound like that?”

Alvin tried to fake a deep voice, but it still came out higher pitched than hers.  “What do you mean?” he asked.  “I sound perfectly normal.”

That got even more giggles.  Mindy asked if she could touch Alvin, which got a sharp look from Ken.  Alvin shrugged, and scampered closer.  He held out an arm, and she reached down to fuzz her fingers through it.  Alvin giggled.

“Are you ticklish?” asked Mindy.

“A little.  A fact Susie exploits mercilessly whenever I annoy her.  Which is often.”

“Hey!” called Susie.  “I annoy you at least as often.”

Alvin laughed, as did Mindy.

“So what can we do for you, Miss Mindy?” asked Ken, when Mindy’s stroking of Alvin’s fur carried on for a little too long.

“Oh!” said Mindy.  “Can you sing?”

“Can we sing?” asked Alvin, with mock indignance.  “Can we sing?  Of course we can sing!  Hit it!”

They launched into “Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys”, with Alvin fooling around more than usual, getting the other two chipmunks to break up in giggles from time to time.  Mindy was giggling along with them.

Mindy requested some of her favourite songs.  Some they’d rehearsed, some they hadn’t and it showed, but they did their best.  Mindy was enchanted, so apparently they were doing well enough.

Alvin invited Mindy to dance with them after a particularly energetic number, but Mindy sadly shook her head.  “My legs don’t work.”

That brought the mood crashing down.  Alvin glanced to Ken, who made go-on motions.  “I’m really sorry to hear that.  Do you want to talk about it?”

Mindy shook her head, then changed her mind and nodded.  She pushed herself out of her chair and used it to brace herself as her legs crumpled under her.  It looked like she was used to the motion, as she managed to make it almost look as if she was deliberately sitting cross-legged on the floor.  At least, if you ignored how she had to tug her legs into position with her arms.  She patted the floor beside her, and Alvin sat there.

Mindy put an arm around Alvin, and leaned against him.  “I was always like this.  Couldn’t crawl as a baby, nothing.  I’m used to it, but other kids get to play outside, and I... can’t.”

Alvin murmured softly, “That sounds awful.  Can’t they do anything?”

“Daddy says it’s too ... too ...”  She looked over to one side, where a sharply dressed man had been watching the proceedings in silence.

“Too dangerous,” he said with a rueful shake of his head.  “What she has won’t kill her, but the surgery to correct it is long, painful, and... sometimes goes badly.  She’ll be old enough to use the Venn Machines in a few more years, so the risk is...”

“But I want to play!” wailed Mindy.  “Why can’t I play?”

Alvin shrugged.  “Life sucks sometimes.  At least you have a daddy who loves you very much.  Mine died a couple years ago.”

Mindy’s eyes went wide.  “Daddies can die?”

Her father glared at Alvin, making the young chimpmunk wince, but he brazened on.  “They can.  Everybody can.  That’s what your father is scared of.  If they try to fix you now, maybe you will die.  Or maybe you’ll just be in pain for the next few years.  It sucks, it sucks a lot.  But things can be so, so much worse.  Hey Ken, I think Somebody Done Somebody Wrong.”

While the others launched into the song, Alvin stayed beside Mindy, singing softly.  She was crying through most of it, but hugging him tight even so.

“Why sad song?” asked Mindy when they were done.

“Because sometimes sad things happen, and if we sing about them we can share it a little, and make the weight of our sadness a little lighter.  And then we can sing cheerful songs to remind ourselves that there are good things out there too.”

“Please?” asked Mindy.

Alvin looked to Ken, who shrugged and started into some of the cheerier songs they’d been working on.  Alvin coached Mindy so she could sing along, and at the end she was smiling.

“See?” asked Alvin.  “Life has ups and downs.  Your life will be amazing.”

“I guess,” agreed Mindy.  “It was easier to be happy when Momma was here.”

Alvin looked at Mindy’s father for an explanation, his fuzzy brows knitted in concern.

The older man sighed, and shook his head.  “She found all this too distressing.  So she... found a way to avoid it.”

“She just... left?  I thought my Mom was terrible, but she’d never...”  Alvin winced and stopped.

“She’s with us,” he said after a long time.  “Mindy couldn’t understand, so I haven’t...”

“Haven’t what?” asked Alvin darkly.

“The chair.  I venned her into Mindy’s chair.  She made me promise to keep her that way until Mindy’s old enough...”

Alvin shook his head.  “She’s...  That’s...  I have...”  He hugged Mindy tight.  “Sorry your Mom sucks.”

“Mommy is my chair?” asked Mindy in confusion.

“Yeah, kid.  There’s these big boxes that can turn you into anything when you’re old enough.  I’m normally a boy about twice this tall, but being cute and fuzzy is a pretty good gig.”

“Some of the time,” muttered Ken.

Alvin grinned at him.  “You like it when your granddaughter snuggles with you like you’re a giant plush toy, don’t deny it.  Wait... how late is it?”

Ken admitted that his daughter was probably starting dinner without them by now.

Alvin looked up at Mindy’s father.  “Can you send Ken home?  Susie and I can stay with Mindy as long as she needs.”

Ken rolled his eyes.  “Don’t give away the house before you know the price, kid.  Where’d you learn to negotiate?”

“I... didn’t?”

“They’ll come to no harm,” promised Mindy’s father.  “When is your next performance?”

“We... kinda don’t have the next one lined up yet,” admitted Ken.  “Nostalgia ain’t what it used to be.  Gotta keep rehearsing, though.”

“Could we rehearse here?” asked Susie.

“Please?” begged Mindy.

Her father chuckled indulgently.  “If it’ll make you smile like that, anything.”

The New Chipmunks rehearsed in front of Mindy daily, and Alvin and Susie spent the rest of their time hanging out with her and inventing games that all three could play despite her legs.  Susie even went so far as to get venned into a plush chipmunk that couldn’t move at all, and could only talk, but Mindy thought she was being silly, so she stopped.

At the end of the week, they still didn’t have any new performances lined up, and Mindy’s stay in Las Vegas was coming to an end.  She begged her father to take Alvin and Susie back home with them.

Ken was aghast at the idea.  “You don’t really know these folks at all.”

“I know Mindy well enough,” said Susie.  “She needs friends.  We’ll see you around sometime, okay?”

Ken sighed.  “Breaking up the band so soon?”

“Aw, you know we were just holding you back,” said Alvin.  “You’re the only one with real talent here.  Go, re-invent yourself into something more you.  You’ll find something that works.”

Ken nodded slowly.  “Suppose I will at that.  You gotta’ come by and see Kari and Katie before you go, though.”

“Now who’s sucking at negotiations?” asked Alvin.

Ken shook his head.  “You’ve already made up your minds.  Mindy’s a sweet kid, at least when you two are around.  I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“Trouble, as always,” chirped Alvin.

Mindy gave him a ferocious hug that squeezed all the air out of him.  “You’re coming with us?”

“Until you can use the Venn Machines yourself,” promised Alvin once she’d loosened her grip enough that he could breathe once more.  “Or until you get tired of having two talking chipmunks around.  Though if you want us to venn into something else, we’ll do it.”

Ken groaned.  “You two aren’t pets.  You’re people.  Try to remember that?”

Alvin shrugged.  “Being a pet for a while sounds like a pretty good gig, really.”

“Yay!” cheered Mindy.  “Best pets ever!  Thank you.”