The Living End by Robert Jardim (rob_mephisto@hotmail.com) ************ AUTHOR'S NOTE: some parts of this fanfic get a little serious. There's a bit of death later on, but it's not too explicit. And on the subject of explicit, my character Rob has a near Fowlmouth-esque swearing habit. Don't worry, he's been censored. Still, if you're offended by any of this, or if you're not old enough to read it (you know who you are), then please don't read it. ************ These are the tranquil forests of Acme Acres. You might've heard that name before... The initiated might want to skip this bit: Tiny Toon Adventures, a popular cartoon series of the early 90's, was set in Acme Acres. Here, toons ('cartoon characters' to you uninitiated persons) live, work and play. And, if there's time left after that, they might even go to school at Acme Looniversity (the school - see? It's easy). But they weren't at school right now, because it ended an hour ago. Two toons, a blue rabbit and a green duck, were travelling through the quiet woods. "It's over this way," announced Buster Bunny, leading the way through the undergrowth. "Geez, Buster," complained Plucky Duck, "this cave you thought you saw had better be worth it..." he was behind the bunny, and as a result, got hit by the back-swing of every tree-branch in their path. "Well, I wanna see what's in it," said Buster. "And what's that?" answered Plucky. There was a >THWACK!< as he was hit by a branch, "ow." "Well *I* don't know," shrugged Buster, "I wouldn't be wondering what was in it if I already knew, would I? I would've checked it out when I found it this morning, but I was already late for school." "You saw it this morning? >THWACK!< Ow. No wonder you were late...this has gotta be an hour outta your way. What the heck were you doing out here?" "I just felt like a change," Buster shrugged, "what, you mean you always follow the same route to and from school every day?" "Not always," said Plucky, " >THWACK!< Ow. But I, uh, *usually* don't take four-mile detours. Besides, don't *you* usually walk with Babs?" "Oops," Buster froze, "I forgot all about Babsie! I haven't seen her all day...she's gonna kill me for avoiding her!" "I don't know about that," said Plucky, "that sounds too humane for the Babs I know and tolerate. Better hope she doesn't want a pair of fuzzy dice to go with that car she's planning to get..." Buster winced at the thought. He liked his fuzzy pair where it was. Oh well, he thought, he'd make it up to her later. All he'd thought about the whole day was the cave, the cave, the cave. Now that he was so close to it, he wasn't about to give up. Buster pushed a branch out of the way, and revealed a very small clearing. He grinned to himself, satisfied, and walked towards the mysterious cave. >THWACK!< "Ow." It wasn't too big or too small a hole in the side of a hill, just a handy person-sized gap to fit through. Over the entrance hung scraggly vines, which made it look (in a certain way) like a yawning, bearded dragon. "Uhhh..." gulped Plucky, who always looked at things in that certain way, "y'know, Buster, curiosity killed the duck..." "Oh, come *on*," said Buster, "what are you...chicken?" "Well, I'm closer than you are," said Plucky, "and anyway, I bet there's nothing in this stupid cave." "Then you've got nothing to worry about," grinned Buster, and stepped through the vine curtains, disappearing into the shadows. "One day," Plucky sighed, "that rabbit's gonna bite of more than he can chew, and he's gonna spit it all out on me." Buster shone a flashlight into the deep gloom. He was sure he saw something flickering in the darkness this morning, and for some reason he couldn't forget about it. He *had* to find out what it was. "OW!" "I'm over here," mumbled Buster. Plucky cursed, tripped over another rock, cursed again, and stumbled into the beam of Buster's flashlight. He blinked like a deer in the headlights. "Are you gonna make yourself useful," asked Buster, "or are you just gonna keep messing around?" "I'm helpin!" moaned Plucky, "just tell me what to look for." "I *said* I don't know. Just look. If you see something that isn't a rock or a cave monster, then that's probably it." "A cave monster?" said Plucky, "That's ridiculous...no such thing as cave monsters..." he shivered suddenly, and glanced nervously at him ominously dark surroundings. He said, "Buster?" "What?" "...hold me..." Buster sighed, and carried on looking. There was something in this cave, darn it, he knew it in his bones. He had to find out what it was. He swept the beam of light over rock, rocks, pebbles, rock, a sword, more rocks, pebbles... "Jackpot!" Buster exclaimed, and padded over to the sword, "Plucky, over here!" he blade looked like an ancient broadsword, covered in arcane symbols and sigils, as well as several rubies set into the handle. It was thrust into the cave floor like a tent spike. On the wall behind the blade, torch light revealed a runic picture scratched into the rock: a 'T', with it's downward point spearing through the middle of what might have been an 'M'. The toons stared at if for a minute, then turned their attention back to the sword. "Looks expensive," remarked Plucky, "how much do you think it's worth?" "A lot," replied Buster, staring at the rubies, "it's probably an antique. I wonder how deep it's shoved into the ground?" Plucky pulled and pulled and pulled on the handle, but it was like arm-wresting with a stone statue. He panted from the effort, and tried again. If the sword could think, and if it had vocal cords, and if it had a sense of humour, it would've laughed at him. He attacked the cave floor with a jackhammer, but he couldn't make a dent. He tried to lever it out with a crowbar, but all he got was a bent crowbar. "No good," panted Plucky miserably, "bye-bye billions..." "Let me try," Buster said. He pulled out an oilcan, and generously oiled the area where steel met rock. After giving it a couple of seconds to soak between the cracks, He heaved on the sword's handle. It moved sluggishly at first, but then slid out easily with a wet >POP!< (think baseball...cold showers...). "Show-off," grumbled Plucky, "*now* can we go?" "Yeah," Buster nodded numbly. He was staring at the sword. It felt much lighter than such a huge weapon (Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day!) should feel. He wasn't an expert, but he knew steel was supposed to be heavy. "Great," said Plucky, pushing Buster back towards the bright entrance of the lightless cave, "then let's hurry...I think I'm allergic to cave monsters." "There aren't any cave monsters in here." "I *know* I'm allergic to cave monsters who could come back any minute. Move it, blue-ears!" The toons made their way back through the woods. Every now and then, something went >THWACK!< and someone said "ow". Back in the darkness, the crude runic glyph on the cave wall glowed a violent red, then evaporated, leaving behind no trace of it's existence. *** Later that night, clouds of steam were attacking the bathroom of Buster's underground warren. Hot water was hissing menacingly. "And I said, wadabout...breakfast at Tiffany's..." Through the distorted glass door of Buster's shower, nothing but a blue blotch could be seen. If you could imagine a blue blotch doing such a thing, it looked like it was scrubbing it's privates. "And she said, dah dah dah...dee dee dee dee dee..." Scrub scrub scrub. Scientists have proven that the louder you sing in the shower, the harder you scrub, but *Real* shower-sopranos stop scrubbing halfway to conduct with their loofahs. "And I said...dah dah..." Buster stopped singing abruptly. He cleared his throat, and tried again with a song he knew the words to. "Oooh eee ooh aah aah..." he screeched into the loofah like it was a microphone, "Ting tang, walla walla bing bang..." He shut off the shower and stepped out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. As he opened the bathroom door, the army of water vapour regrouped and charged into the hallway. "Dah dah, dah witch doctor," The rabbit murmured, making his way to his bedroom, "...dah dah dah dah dum..." He opened his closet, and stared ponderously at his wide range of pyjamas. "Red, red or red," he mumbled. Wisely, he chose the red ones, a button-up nightshirt and drawstring pyjama bottoms. After he'd dried and changed, he sat on his bed, staring at the sword in the corner of the room. Plucky had wanted to sell it right away, and split the money (80-20), but Buster was against it. Why? He didn't know. There was something interesting about this old blade, something that made him want to keep it. Staring into the corner, dimly aware of a ringing in his ears, Buster put his head on the pillows and slowly fell asleep. *** Acme Looniversity. The night doesn't last as long as it used to. This is only true on a school night, because school has that nasty way of speeding up on you. The sun was rising steadily in the hazy sky, illuminating the lush green valley where Acme Loo lay. On it's impressive clock tower, the face of the clock itself popped open, and out shot Gogo Dodo. "Coo-coo! Coo-coo!" he said, "it's six o'clock, if you're here this early, you're coo-coo!" Then, his job done, the dodo jumped back into the tower. The camera travels through Acme Loo's great big entrance doors, and through it's myriad of hallways. Although the Loo looked like a regular school on the outside, it was the size of at least sixteen irregular schools on the inside. You gotta love the way toon physics messes with proportion. Zoom. Round a corner, down a corridor, round another corner, the mental camera pans on. It stops just outside a plain wooden door, marked 'Workshop 219a' on it's frosted window. Sounds of bangs and clangs come from inside. Mechanical parts flew left and right, and came to rest in piles on the floor. Somewhere in the middle of the tornado, a grey coyote trimmed a large machine with a pair of hedge clippers. Calamity knew what he was doing, hopefully. He stepped back to admire his work, then tapped madly on the keys of his small laptop, which was connected to the metal concoction. He grinned like a mad scientist. *** Fast-forwarding again (don't worry, not too far), we're near the beginning of the official school day. In mere minutes, droves of students would rush to class at the ringing of the bell. A few toons were beginning to mill around outside the Loo. Plucky climbed the many steps to the Acme Looniversity entrance, grudgingly. Usually, he'd be talking to his buddy Hamton Pig about now, but Hamton was on an extended family trip to Arkansas. Something about his uncle's ex-wife, or ex-niece, or maybe his cousin...anyway, Plucky didn't know, all he knew was that he was actually missing the little porker's company. Plucky finally reached the top of the steps. He smiled when he saw the girl at the top. She was of the birdish persuasion also, and she was floating a couple of feet off the floor (????). "Hey Shirl," he greeted. "Like, what do you want?" Shirley the Loon growled. She was probably Plucky's girlfriend, although she'd bite your ear off if she heard you call her that. "I've been thinking," said Plucky, not to be put off, "it's a beautiful day outside...the sun's shining, the birds are singing..." "Yeah?" Shirley levitated closer to the duck. "Y'know, it'd be a real shame to waste such nice weather..." "Like, yeah...?" Shirley cooed, "it *is* a totally fine day today." "Whaddya say," Plucky whispered, "...we go get jiggy under the oak tree?" Shirley floated to the ground, annoyed once again. Trust Plucky to ruin a potentially romantic outing by being Plucky. "Get real, you moronic mallard!" she shouted. A bolt of lightning shot down from the cloudless sky and burned Plucky into a pile of soot. Two surprised eyes blinked from the black mound, "take that as a no?" "Excuse me!" a sudden voice yelled from halfway down the steps. It was young, but gruff, and came in a light seasoning of English accent. Shirley and Plucky (who was now miraculously re-composed) swivelled their eyes to meet the figure climbing the steps. At first they thought he was a wolf, or a bobcat...but his plush tail and the white stripe through his shaggy quiff marked him down as a skunk. His fur was grey and white, he wore a black T-shirt, black elbow-length fingerless gloves, black combat trousers and (yes) black boots. His bright green eyes spoiled the overall monochrome effect. "Like, can I help you, er some junk?" asked Shirley. "I hope so," the stranger replied, "I'm sort of new here...I was hoping to find someone to show me around the school...m'name's Rob Mephisto, by the way." "Any relation to *the* Mephisto?" Plucky asked, "you know, the, uh, dark being of eternal evil from the unholy pits of Hades?" Rob hesitated, and shrugged, "...Possibly. It certainly *would* explain the name. You might be on to something there, lad." "Plucky." Shirley frowned, "like, don't be so rude, you should *totally* introduce yourself. I'm Shirley the Loon, and this little green speck of testosterone is Plucky Duck, er some junk." "Yeah, nice to meet you," said Plucky, grudgingly. "Likewise," Rob smiled, "I hope you two know your way inside there." "Like the back of Shirley's tailfeathers," Plucky chuckled. Shirley glared at him with a look that made him wither. In the background, Dizzy Devil chased Little Beeper. The little roadrunner disappeared, leaving Dizzy looking around in confusion. Suddenly, Beeper re-appeared with a huge mallet and pounded Dizzy flat. He beeped happily and ran off, leaving poor Dizzy...well, dizzy. "Hmm," Rob lifted a brow, "odd, that, the way everybody here carries these bloody great big mallets around." "What d'you mean," said Plucky, "they don't use toon mallets where you come from?" "In Manchester?" Rob laughed, "don't be silly...in Manchester, we use *guns*..." *** Meanwhile, inside Acme Looniversity, Professor/Principal Bugs Bunny's homeroom was in session. "Bunny, Alexcia?" Bugs called out from the register. Somewhere in the back of the class, a paw waved up as if to say, 'yes, oh tutor, I go by the nomenclature of Bunny, Alexcia; and marry, thou shalt be correct indeed if thou dost marketh me present'. "Bunny, Babs?" said Bugs, as he ticked off the last name. "Here," Babs yawned. The sun was smiling down so warm outside, and here she was, stuck in class. Boring, boring, boring, *boring*! "Bunny, Buster?" said Bugs, "...Buster? Buster Bunny?" he glanced at Buster's seat, which contained absolutely no Buster. With a disapproving sigh, Bugs marked him absent. Babs sighed as well. She didn't see Buster once the entire day yesterday. Buster was supposed to have come round to her house last night (to study. Honest.), but he hadn't shown up. He hadn't answered the phone, either, when she'd called him to find out what was keeping him. Then, this morning, he hadn't met up with her so that they could walk to school together, as they usually did. And now, he wasn't even here. She was starting to get worried. "*Pssst!*" Babs blinked, her ears swivelling. Either someone was trying to get her attention, or they had a puncture and they were losing air. "*Pssst!*" While Bugs reeled out name after name, Babs covertly turned around in her seat. "*Psssssst!*" "What???" Babs hissed. "'Allo mon chere," said Fifi LaFume, the pretty young skunk in the purple plush, "is Bustair, 'ow you say, undair zee weather?" "Hey, Crépe Suzette," Babs whispered back, "I don't know, I haven't seen him. He'd better not be avoiding me." "Maybe 'e eez jus' tired, non?" "Maybe," Babs sighed. She looked out the window again, beyond the painful boredom of the classroom, and seemed to reach a decision. "I need to know," she announced. "Need to know what?" Babs blinked, and realised that she was standing, and that everyone was looking at her. She glanced sheepishly at Bugs, who was patiently tapping his fingers on his desk. "Well?" said Bugs, "what d'ya need to know?" "...Uh..." said Babs slowly, against the deafening silence, "...valuable educational skills that'll go on to help me in later life?" "Cute," said Bugs, "but if ya don't keep quiet in my classroom, de only t'ing you're gonna find out is how many tiles dere are on de detention hall ceiling." "Yessir," Babs saluted, sitting back down, "sorrysir, won'thappenagainsir." "Just keep it down, okay?" The class settled back into autopilot, sensing that the brief show was over, and Bugs settled back into attendance-check mode. Fifi leaned forward again. "Babs," she whispered, "what eez zat about no need?" "I said," Babs whispered back, "that I need to know what's up with ol' blue ears...and I'm going to find out. You comin' along?" "Hmmm," Fifi sighed, "Je ne sais pas..." "Come on, Fifi. He could be in trouble...don't you want to help out a friend in need?" Babs did her best puppydog-eyes take. It was a battle of wills, but unfortunately for Fifi, it was like trying to stop a tank shell with a sheet of damp toilet paper. Babs always got what she wanted. "Oui, oui," Fifi caved, "I will come along with you. But we 'ad bettair be back soon, non?" "No prob," Babs grinned, "we're just gonna go round and check up on him. Nothing to worry about." *** "For Lemmy's sake, would you stop worrying?" Rob grumbled, "I *said* I haven't got a gun...why would I want to shoot you, even if I had one?" "Never hurts to make sure," said Plucky nervously. He crawled out from behind Shirley, who rolled her eyes in disbelief. The three of them were elbowing through the morning rush of toons, who were trying to run fast enough to go back in time five minutes, so they wouldn't be late. The hallways were filled with maniacal laughter, 's of slapstick anvils and other crazy sound effects. Rob stared apprehensively. "These people are out of their ****in' mi..." he said, and hesitated, "...what the ****?? HEY!! ****! ****! Why the **** can't I say ****!" "Censors," said Plucky. "Like, talk about your bad taste explosions," Shirley frowned disapprovingly, "like, have a little respect for public decency, er some junk." "Fine," Rob sighed dejectedly, like someone who'd just lost their most valuable possession, "I'll smooth it out a bit. ****in' ********." Shirley carefully scrutinised Rob, trying to put the pieces together. The "gritty" colour scheme; the "colourful" language; the jagged, hard look he had; the way "moody" shadows seemed to fall over his face (even though it was as bright as day indoors)... "Oh my gaaaad," Shirley gasped, "you're, like, an *action* toon!" "Am I that transparent?" Rob asked (accidentally striking a dramatic pose). "No way!" said Plucky, "You're a serious character? What, like Johnny Quest?" "Not a chance," Rob replied (menacing shadows crossing over his face), "...do I *look* like Johnny bloody Quest?" "Notatall," Plucky gulped, and slinked back behind Shirley. "Like," said Shirley, ignoring the cowering duck, "if you're a *serious* toon, then why'd you enrol here at Acme Loo?" "You want the serious answer?" said Rob, "...I have no **...er, 'fudging' clue. I don't even know why I came to America. I had this strange urge to come here...y'know, like an itch you have to scratch. Next thing I know, I'm getting off the plane and grabbing my luggage. I promised my mom I'd finish my education, and Acme Loo was just the first school I got to, really. I mean, there was this other place...Perfecto Prep, or some such **...'shed'. It looks hard to get into." "It is," Plucky nodded, "you need a huge credit limit to get in there." "Hmmm," said Shirley, "like, you say you felt an 'urge' to come here? Like, that could totally be psychic vibes, er some junk, calling your aura on the cellphone of, like, your soul, man." "Psychic vibes?" Rob chuckled, "and my arse is a Ford Fiesta. Psychic vibes! Of all the pseudo-hippie, new-age, post-modern, chemical-sniffing deadhead *'bullocks'*..." They were indoors, on the ground floor of a five-storey building, but somehow a lightning bolt managed to make it's way through the roof and fried Rob to a crispy golden brown. Then (because the way Shirley saw it, he'd deserve another one sooner or later), a second bolt blasted Plucky, throwing charred feathers into the air. "Did I mention that, like, *I'm* psychic?" Shirley giggled. *** Back in Workshop 219a, Calamity's masterpiece was taking shape. The large chunk of metal/electronics was hit by drills, screwdrivers, soldering irons, weed-whackers, machetes, and (in one case), a large rubber banana. Exactly what he did with the banana remains a mystery to this day. Calamity lowered his heavy-duty soldering goggles, and admired his contraption, like an artist sizing up his latest sculpture. He reached behind his back for a sign (because he had a habit of talking to himself). [Still not right,] the sign read. Slipping his goggles back into place, Calamity grabbed a big rusty chainsaw and rip-roared it into action. *** Buster was still staring at the ancient broadsword. It was *very* light, it fit like a glove, and it felt as natural as his own arm in his grip. He waved it experimentally a couple of times; it hummed lightly as it sliced through the air. He was not the same squeaky-clean, tone-deaf, happy little rabbit that we left a few scenes back... he had seriously big bags under his eyes, but more importantly, he didn't seem to have any pupils. He looked thinner, his fur pale and dishevelled. If you looked up the word 'haggard' in the dictionary, you'd probably find Buster's address and a note telling you to go round and have a look. Suddenly he heard a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at his chamber door. He jerked his head angrily towards the door, and snarled like a wild beast. "Buster?" someone yelled, slightly muffled, "hey, Buster, you in there?" He looked up. The knocking was coming from the trapdoor-like entrance to his warren. A subconscious voice, which, by now, was very familiar to him, swam into his head. ~~They come to take me away from you~~ it said. "No!" Buster protested. "If you are not in zere," someone yelled, "zen 'ow are you telleeng us zat you are not in zere, zen?" ~~You must get rid of them~~ the voice in his head suggested. "Leave!" Buster growled. "No way, mister," the first person yelled again, "not until you come out here and tell me why you're not talking to me!" ~~You must get rid of them~~ the voice repeated darkly. "...yes..." said Buster, softly. He hefted the sword into the air, and strode towards his warren entrance with grim determination. "Buster!!" Babs yelled angrily, "Buster, open the damn door!!!" "It is no good, Babs," said Fifi, "'e is, ow you say, not in ze mood, nes't pas?" "Neither am I!" Babs replied. She knocked furiously on the hatch of Buster's tree-stump door again, "If you don't open this door, you won't be getting anywhere near 'second base' for a month, mister! Buster! Open up!" The girls heard a viscious scream of rage, before a very sharp blade shot out from the hutch with a great big **KERR-RACK!!**, chopping the sturdy oak trapdoor to splinters. "***** Saint!" Fifi exclaimed. "Holy ****!" Babs added. *** "Hard Knocks 101?" Rob glared suspiciously at the writing on the outside of the classroom door, "Hard Knocks? Is this for real?" "Like, yeah!" Shirley frowned, "like, Professor Daffy was for real, Professor Foghorn was for real, and, like, when I slapped Plucky and his beak fell off, that was for real too. Er some junk. Stop asking me if everything's for real, cause it, like, totally is." "Mou maven't meen my meak mamound, mave mou?" Plucky mumbled, trying to find his duckbill. Rob sniggered. "That *was* quite funny," he said, "...sorry about all the questions, Shirley, but I feel like I've jumped straight into the telly. Acme Acres is very, very, very *NOT* Lancashire." "Yeah, yeah," said Shirley, "like, I understand. I guess it..." she paused, and put her hands to her head, "...ungh...what's that?" "Mot's mot?" Plucky asked. He'd picked up his beak, and he was dusting off the footprints. "Something's happening," said Shirley. "Well, duh," said Plucky, clicking his bill back into place, "lotsa things happen all the time." "Shut up," Rob muttered, "I feel it too...it's...the urge I had to come here...telling me to...go outside..." (these...tribbles are... everywhere...full impulse...mister Chekov...) "Shouldn't we be in class?" Plucky asked nervously. He had nearly supernatural powers of detection as well. He could smell trouble a mile away. "Later!" said Shirley, "like, this is some seriously bad mojo! It's like, an emergency!" "Y'know, Shirl," said Plucky, "I'd love ta come with ya...but y'know me, I don't like missing..." "Like," Shirley yelled, dragging Plucky behind her, "you're coming with us, you craven little coward." "Finally," said Rob (striking action hero pose #45), "I haven't had my adrenaline fix yet today. Let's boot buttock!" *** The woods of Acme Acres were beautiful, scenic things. Little birds tweetered happily in lush, green trees; butterflies flitted from flower to perfect flower. The long grasses rustled lightly in the wind. Yes, if Babs and Fifi weren't running so fast, they would've taken the time to enjoy the sights. "Run, Fifi, Run!" Babs shouted. "Vous do not 'ave to be telling moi a second time!" Fifi panted. Babs looked behind her, without losing pace. She couldn't see Buster, but she could hear his unearthly screaming, which chilled her to her bones. "Why is he doing this?" Fifi asked, "'e is, 'ow you say, upset?" "Majorly upset," Babs yelled, "and if you don't want to find out *how* upset he is, fergodsake keep running!" The girls sprinted flat-out, hurdling bushes and dodging trees, trying to get some thinking distance between themselves and Babs's zombified boyfriend. They came up to the edge of the woods and popped out into a clearing. Just a short distance away was the Looniversity, but *very* nearby were three other toons. ***<<>>*** The toons fell in a big pile of fur and limbs. Various curses, insults, and pained groans escaped from the heap, until they'd come to their senses enough to roll apart. "Watch where you're go..." Babs ranted, "...oh, hey Shirley." "Like, hi guys," Shirley greeted. "Bonjour," said Fifi, "but zat eez not important now." "She's right," said Babs, "we just saw Buster...." "Has he sold that sword yet?" Plucky asked, "'cause if he did, I want my cut of the profits for helping him find it. Well, has he?" "No, not if it's the same sword we're thinking about," said Babs, "he just tried to turn us into Tiny Toon tandoori!" "Ooh, this is totally bad," Shirley fretted, "like, mondo bad. Like, totally greviously heinously bad, er some junk! Plucky, Where'd Buster get that sword?" "Oh, I don't know," Plucky sighed, "a big, dark, scary cave. Why? It's just a sword." "Is there, like, anything unusual about it?" said Shirley, irritably, "think, it's important!" "It was moving too fast for me to check out," Babs remarked. "Plucky?" Shirley asked, "was there anything else in the cave? Like, any signs, or jewellery; *anything* at all?" "Nope," said Plucky, "just a dumb sword in a dumb empty cave, like I said...wait..." Plucky blinked, and pointed feverishly, "that! It was painted on one of the walls!" Shirley and Babs' eyes followed Plucky's finger. He was pointing to Rob's right arm, where the skunk's T-shirt sleeve had rolled up in the crash. There, amongst the fur, was a mark that looked exactly like the ancient rune from the cave. "Majorly astro-massively totally non-righteously *baaaad*!" Shirley fretted, "That's, like, an occult power symbol! I recognise it from, like, Toon Meta-Physics class! The mark of the demon, er some junk!" "..." Babs blinked, "...hey, who *is* he, anyway? He's been really quiet." "Like, that *is* strange," Shirley nodded, then sighed, "...but like, *that* explains it." Shirley waved a wing between Rob and Fifi. They were staring at each other, open-mouthed, like a pair of guppies at feeding time. Shirley sighed and rolled her eyes, wondering if all skunks were like this. She snapped her fingers a couple of times, with as much success as trying to cut the mightiest tree in the forest with a herring. "Let me try," said Babs. She pulled a bucket out from behind her back, and threw it over the star-cros'd skunks. Sputtering and spitting out water, they joined everyone back in the real world. "Hi," said Babs, "I'm Babs Bunny...who the hell are you?" "Rob Mephisto," Rob spluttered, then said to Fifi, "mephit male, age 17, single...interests include fun, action, and pretty girls with purple fur..." "Enchante," Fifi giggled, "Fifi LaFume, and my interest, she eez ze boys 'oo like pretty girls with purple fur, n'est pas?" "Ah," Rob's smile faltered, "...you're French? Er...glad to see another European face 'round here." "Oh," Fifi smile twitched also, "vous are le *Anglais*?" "I'm as English as the Queen Mum," Rob beamed proudly, "...well, technically, she's German...and technically my family hasn't always lived in England...and technically...technically...er...what was my original point again?" "Like, HEY!" Shirley yelled, "If it's, like, okay with you two, I think we've got bigger problems to worry about right now, er some junk!" The toons stopped talking, and turned to face Shirley, with choruses of "oh yeah". Shirley practiced her meditative breathing, until she was relaxed enough to talk again. "Now Rob," said Shirley, "where did you get that symbol on your shoulder?" "This old thing?" Rob shrugged, "born with it. Why?" Before Shirley could answer, a blood-curdling scream rang out from the area of the dense woods. It was so dark and malevolent, that it made the peaceful birds scramble out of their trees in mad panic. "Uh-oh," said Fifi, "it sounds like Bustair is catching up, non?" "*THAT* was Buster???" Plucky panicked, "holy crap!" The bunny burst out of the woods, snarling like a rabid wolverine, and waving the sword like a psychotic crossing guard. "GRAAAAAAAAAAAAHR!" he said. Nearby, and oblivious to what was happening just a short distance away, Calamity tapped programming codes into the keys of his laptop. It was connected to what was, after all the modifying, just a fist-sized piece of electronics. Alternatively, he welded and hammed small pieces of titanium into shape, to fit around the wad of wires. And we're outside again, where Babs, the skunks and the waterfowl faced-off against a very irate and foaming-at-the-mouth Buster Bunny. Rob stepped out of the huddled group. He reached inside his boots, and pulled out two large daggers. With a twist of their handles, they sprung out into a pair of Japanese three-pronged Sai blades. Rob adopted action hero pose #83. "Stand back and take notes, Yanks and Franc," Rob grinned, "this is how you win a fight." He coiled like a cobra, and leapt straight towards Buster like pouncing tiger. "Stop!" Shirley yelled, "like, those are action toon daggers! They're lethal! You'll totally cut Buster to ribbons, er some junk." "And if you hurt him," Babs added, "I swear you won't like what I'll do to you!" "Aw," Rob landed grudgingly, a few feet in front of the zombified bunny, "...and I was just itching for a good ruck." "Rob," Plucky frowned, "I think you should cut down on the swearwords...there might be kids watching." "What? No, no, you dirty boy...'ruck', as in 'fight', not a euphemism for..." "ENOUGH!" Buster growled, concentrated hard, and added, "...DESTROY!!!" Buster hefted the broadsword above his head, ready to lunge, while the assembled toons gathered round each other. "Anyone got any ideas?" Shirley asked the group, "We could, like, use one right about now..." "I'm too scared to think!" Plucky gulped. "What if I stab him in the leg?" Rob asked. "No!" Babs shouted. "In the foot then, he won't hardly feel it." "No!" "Just a little cut on..." "You are *not* stabbing my boyfriend!" "Well, you lot think of something then," Rob frowned, "I had my heart set on the stabbing thing...non-violent conflict is *not* my department..." "'Ow about," Fifi volunteered, "we ask 'im very nicelee not to run us through?" Buster roared and slammed the sword down at the rest of the group, who dodged just in time to avoid a really close shave. The bunny roared again, jabbering something in an ancient heathen language. "Somehow," said Shirley, "I, like, don't think that's gonna cut it..." Calamity screwdrove the last few screws into his invention. It was a palm-sized chromium ball, and all the rest of the panels and wires which used to be part of it cluttered the floor of Workshop 219a. [At last!] Calamity's sign exclaimed, [my greatest creation, my Neutrino Energy Regulation Device is...] The ball jerked, rumbled a little, and started making terrible, torturous sounds. Calamity stared at it. [...my N.E.R.D. is a blinkin' radio,] he signed frustratedly, as someone who was probably a Backstreet Boy warbled through the device, [must've accidentally crossed the poles on the high-energy bandwidth stabiliser. At least it didn't blow up this time. Blinkin' Acme parts.] Calamity sighed and angrily hurled the ball out of an open window. [Oh well,] he signed, [as they say, back to the old drawing board.] "GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHR!" said Buster, "DESTROY!" "Not much of a conversationalist, this boyfriend of yours," Rob commented. The group dodged another wave of the sword. "Someone think of something that's stop Buster without hurting him," Babs growled, "a solution isn't just gonna fall outta the sky." "I'm trying to establish a psychic link," said Shirley, "but, like, I can't concentrate...can anyone else hear that?" "Now that you mention it," said Plucky, "...is Elmyra swinging Furball by the tail again? What an awful sound." The toons looked up (bar Buster, who was trying to slice everyone), to find the source of the terrible noise. Before they knew it, a solution fell outta the sky. *****<<>>***** (This sound effect is sponsored by the WeenieBurger corporation. WeenieBurger: bringing you all the goodness of weenies and the greasiness of burgers since 1983) Buster swayed unsteadily, still growling a little. The N.E.R.D. ball warbled a long, slow death-rattle, before cracking into pieces and falling off of Buster's head. The bunny twitched, and a big lump grew out of the top of his noggin. "We now conclude our broadcast day," Buster mumbled. He wobbled, and fell forward flat on his face. "Mon Dieu!" Fifi gasped, "that was, 'ow you say, zee close one!" "Like," Shirley pointed, "It's not over yet...mondo bad vibes!" The toons watched as the ancient broadsword rose into the air, fire crackling around it's edges. The air seemed to grow stale and black. From the handle of the sword a dark figure slowly unfolded, like a genie from a bottle, clothed in sulphurous flames. It grew to a shape seven feet tall, before the fire gradually extinguished. Where the flames once were, stood a creature dressed in ancient-looking leather armour. He had a goat-like appearance, and cold black eyes, which stared down to their targets' very souls. Massive black horns sprouted from his head, and row upon row of sharp teeth glinted menacingly from his downturned mouth. "AT LAST YOU ARE HERE," he echoed, "FLESH OF MY FLESH..." "Who, me?" Rob blinked. "YES, CHILD," the creature grinned wickedly, "YOU HAVE ANSWERED MY CALL...LIKE YOUR FATHER BEFORE YOU, AND HIS FATHER BEFORE HIM..." "Am I the only one confused here?" said Rob, "What call? What's my dad got to do with anything? Who in the name of Feetal's gizzard are you?" "VERY WELL," the figure echoed, "I SHALL EXPLAIN. I AM THE DAEMON MEPHISTOPHELES, LORD OF TERROR, TORTURER OF SOULS. A CENTURY AGO, I FATHERED A CHILD, TO A MORTAL MOTHER. THIS CHILD, YOUR GREAT-GRANDFATHER, WAS TO BE THE LIVING ARMAGEDDON, THE END OF THE EARTH, THE TRIGGER TO THE APOCALYPSE. I FORGED THIS DOOMBLADE TO BE HIS WEAPON, THE WEAPON OF ULTIMATE DESTRUCTION...HE REPAYED MY BENEFICIENT ACT BY USING HIS DARK POWERS AGAINST ME, IMPRISONING ME WITHIN THE BLADE, AND LIVING A DISGUSTING MORTAL LIFE...BUT NOW THAT HIS LINEAGE HAS RUN DOWN TO YOU, IT IS YOUR DESTINY TO TAKE UP HIS MANTLE." "Waitaminnit," said Rob, "you mean I actually *am* related to the dark being of eternal evil from the unholy pits of Hades?" "CORRECT. TAKE THE BLADE AND ASSUME YOUR ROLE. YOU WILL HERALD THE APOCALYPSE, FLESH OF MY FLESH. TOGETHER, WE WILL USHER A MISERY AND SUFFERING THE LIKES OF WHICH HAS NEVER BEEN DREAMED BEFORE, A DIABOLICAL DIVINITY OF PAIN." Rob hesitantly took the Doomblade from where it hung in mid-air. In his mind, delicious voices whispered tantalisingly, urging him to accept his fate, as dark energy coursed through his arms. The Tiny Toons (bar Buster, who was happy in dreamland) stared at the scene unfolding before them. "'Ow about," said Fifi, "we try zat running thing again, Babs?" "An idea like that should get a Nobel Prize," said Plucky, "everybody, take notes! This is how you run awa..." Before he even finished his sentence, Plucky was a blur on the landscape. He ran like only someone who got top marks in Tactical Retreats 101 could: light speed all the way. "Come back, you spineless little...!" Babs screamed, then sighed, "...I guess it's up to save the world, girls." "HARDLY A THREAT," said Mephistopheles. With a wave of his hand, the girls were lifted into the air, and hung there spread-eagled. An unseen force held them motionless, freezing their muscles into place as if they were chained to the very air itself. Mephistopheles grinned smugly as the girls struggled fruitlessly to escape their invisible bonds. He turned to face Rob, who was still staring at the Doomblade in his hands. "DO YOU FEEL THE POWER?" Mephistopheles chuckled darkly, "THINK OF HOW MUCH FUN WE WILL HAVE, CULLING THE SIX BILLION SHEEP OF THIS WORLD. WHY NOT START HERE? REAVE THE SOULS OF THESE PATHETIC CREATURES, MEPHISTO, AND FEEL THE SWEET EMBRACE OF EVIL FOR YOURSELF..." ~~Yes~~ said a voice in Rob's head, ~~this is your fate. You are the living end.~~ "...the living end..." Rob mumbled. He raised the Doomblade, and grimly marched on towards the Tiny Toons. Right now, the dramatic shadows would've received an Oscar for the part they were playing on his face. "Looks like this is it," said Babs. "I am, 'ow you say, too beautiful to die!" "The final curtain." "Zere are so manee boys I 'ave not yet dated!" While Babs mumbled sadly, and Fifi cried loudly, Shirley kept quiet. A light pink haze outlined her, as she concentrated, focusing her energy. "Ohmmmmmmmmm," she chanted, staring levelly at the advancing Rob, "ohmmmmmmydarlinclementinemmmmmmm..." A pink energy beam shot out from Shirley's eyes, straight into Rob's eyes as he lifted the Doomblade to strike. He stopped abruptly. The following exchange in Rob's mind only took only half a second, but for the benefit of you, gentle reader, I've slowed it down. said Shirley's aura, ~~No~~ said the Doomblade. ~~Yes he does~~ {Yes I do,} thought Rob. said Shirley's aura, ~~He will not resist me. This is what he wants~~ {Yes,} thought Rob, {this is...what...no it isn't.} ~~Obey. You must destroy her~~ {...Why?,} thought Rob. ~~Because it is your destiny!~~ {How do you know? You don't know me.} ~~Your fate has already been written! Obey!~~ said Shirley's aura, ~NO!~ the voice of the sword screeched, ~~I WILL NOT BE DENIED!~~ {I will not be controlled,} thought Rob. And in a flash, it was over. The scenic trees of Acme Acres swum back into reality, branches still swaying under the cold wind of the blackened sky. Shirley's psychic link severed, and faded away into thin air. Rob lowered the Doomblade...it was screaming at him now, but he wasn't listening anymore, because it had nothing interesting to say. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, BOY?" Mephistopheles growled impatiently, "MOW THESE MORTALS DOWN OR I SHALL DO IT MYSELF." "No," said Rob, "I'm a fighter, not a bully, and they can't even fight back...I think I'd rather kick your demonic keister back to wherever the hell it came from." "DAMN IT, CHILD," the demon spat, "YOU ARE AS WEAK AS THE REST OF YOUR WRETCHED LINE...CLOUDED BY MORTAL EMOTIONS...YOU LACK THE STRENGTH OF SPIRIT TO SUMMON THE ARMAGEDDON." "I just don't like people telling me what to do," said Rob, "prepare to be seriously whipped, you shirt-headed lovechilding mother-liker!" "Is it just me," Shirley said, "or does he, like, totally sound more obscene when he's not actually cussing, er some junk?" "Totally," Babs sighed, "action toons...what ya gonna do?" "SO BE IT," Mephistopheles growled, "YOUR FATHER HAD AN EIGHTH OF THE STRENGH MY SON POSESSED, AND HE FELL TO ME IN COMBAT...YOU HAVE ONLY A SIXTEENTH OF THAT ORIGINAL ENERGY, MEPHISTO, AND YOU DO NOT EVEN KNOW HOW TO USE IT...DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE A CHANCE OF VICTORY?" Mephistopheles extended his hand, and in it formed a needle- thin black rapier, crackling with blue flame. "Not really," Rob said grimly, hefting the Doomblade, "good thing I've got this little beauty to help me out, isn't it?" The combatants clashed in a huge flash of light, Rob sweeping the Doomblade up samurai style, only to be parried by the demon's own sword. Rob immediately turned his sweep into an overhead slash, but was blocked once again. Bright sparks of white flame spat when their swords met. The assembled Tiny Toons, still chained to the air, could do nothing but nervously watch. Rob's frantic blend of kickboxing-meets-streetfighting versus the dancing cavalier style of Mephistopheles. On and on the fight raged, with each combatant matching the other, the demon's supernatural skill against Rob's near-superhuman relentlessness. The fight was closely matched, but a sudden shot of dark light from the tip of Mephistopheles' rapier picked Rob out of the air in the middle of a leap. The skunk hit the ground hard, rolling like a tumbleweed until he scraped to a lifeless stop. "LESS THAN A MINUTE!" Mephistopheles laughed loudly, "HIS FATHER LASTED MUCH LONGER THAN THAT...PITY." He turned towards Babs, Shirley and Fifi, a wicked smile on his lips. "MY, MY, MY," he chuckled, "HIS LINE ENDS HERE, MY LITTLE FRIENDS. THE SWORD NO LONGER HAS A MASTER. UNFORTUNATELY FOR THIS EARTH, IT MEANS THAT I NO LONGER HAVE A PRISON...I WONDER...HOW LONG WILL I BE ABLE TO TORTURE YOU ALL BEFORE YOU BREAK?" The girls shuddered in terror as the dark lord of Hades closed in on them. Plucky watched from behind the bushes. It didn't look good. Buster was still unconscious. Rob was probably dead. The girls were helplessly tied by their invisible bonds. In a minute, Mephistopheles was going to slaughter them all and probably destroy Acme Acres. Two miniature Pluckys, one dressed in a devil suit and the other one dressed in an angel's robe, appeared on either of the duck's shoulders in little puffs of smoke. "Plucky," said the angel, "you have to save them!" "Are you nuts?" frowned the devil, "if you go out there, you're gonna get killed! You like your head where it is, right?" "But if you don't go out there," the angel continued, "he's going to destroy the world! You'll be killed anyway!" "...what?" the devil gasped, "the *whole world*? What the heck are you doing, you craven little coward? Get out there and save everybody!" The miniature figures disappeared in two more small smoke clouds. Plucky sighed. "I hate it when I'm right," he said. Mephistopheles waved his rapier under the girls' noses. The stench of brimstone filled their nostrils, burning all the way down to their lungs. "NOW," said the demon, "HOW DOES THE RHYME GO? EENEY, MEENEY, MINEY, MOE..." He flicked the rapier from one toon to the other, like a pointer stick. When he came to the end of the rhyme, "moe" turned out to be Fifi. She sobbed sadly, and Babs and Shirley simply hung their heads in resignation. "I SEE WE HAVE A WINNER," said Mephistopheles, "PLEASE, FEEL FREE TO STRUGGLE AS MUCH AS YOU WANT...AND REMEMBER TO SCREAM FOR ME..." *****<<>>***** (WeenieBurger: Who needs stomach lining anyway?) Shocked, the girls' jaws dropped when they saw what had happened. There stood Plucky, the splintered remains of a mallet in his hands. Mephistopheles foamed at the mouth, a small lump growing out the top of his head. The demon glared at Plucky, with a look that could strip paint. "Uh..." Plucky mumbled nervously, "...oops?" "THE PAIN OF A MILLION LASHINGS UPON YOUR BONES!" Mephistopheles screamed. "Nice one, Plucky," said an English voice, "now get out of the way and let me handle this." All eyes swivelled to look at Rob, who was rather shakily leaning on the Doomblade. His shirt was in tatters, he was cut and bleeding, and he was puffing like a carton-a-day smoker, but he was alive. Plucky took the opportunity to scamper away, pulling Buster off the battlefield with him. "IMPOSSIBLE," Mephistopheles growled, "HOW CAN YOU STILL BE ALIVE?" "I wouldn't be a very good action hero if something as puny as that stopped me," said Rob, "I'm from *Manchester*, you deeply foolish fool of a fool...I've been shot four times, and each one hurt more than that pedestrian excuse for an energy ball. Honestly, what kind of satanic entity are you?" "VERY WELL," said Mephistopheles, "AS YOU MORTALS SAY...BEST TWO OUT OF THREE." The demon drew back into a fencing stance, one hand loosely raised above his head. Rob panted, resting on the Doomblade, until suddenly and without warning, he leapt back into action. The sparks of their clashes were brighter now, much more intense. The fight seemed to have picked up right where it left off, as once again each combatant fought without purchase of victory. But this time, Rob's kicks and slashes picked up speed. If his shirt hadn't been ripped from his body, it still wouldn't have hidden the light which was shining from his arm. His ordinarily black runic birthmark was glowing shocking pink, and it got brighter the faster he moved. He whirled like a Tasmanian devil, on horse steroids, in a washing machine. Mephistopheles may have had supernatural powers, and he may have been an expert swordsman, but Rob had the superior fighting style: Law Of Averages Kung-Fu. Basically, it worked like this - 'if I move fast enough to throw 10.6 punches per second, then one of them is bound to hit you, right?'. As Rob's broadsword clashed with Mephistopheles' black rapier a final time, the needle-thing blade smashed into a million pieces, and disintegrated into the air. Mephistopheles, shocked, stumbled backwards, and fell into one of the trees on the edge of the woods. He stared up at the looming face of Rob, who stood above him with the tip of the sword at the demon's chest. "YOUR FATHER NEVER HAD YOUR PASSION," Mephistopheles smiled an evil, hopeful smile, "IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO JOIN ME, CHILD...YOU HAVE FELT THE POWER...TAKE MY OFFER! BE THE LIVING END! IT IS YOUR DESTINY!" Rob scowled coldly down at the cowering form in front of him. "Scegliere il suo proprio destino," Rob said angrily, "you killed my father, you *******...you are the weakest link. Goodbye." Mephistopheles screamed as Rob drove the point of the Doomblade through his black heart. His armour sizzled around the cold steel, and a stench of burnt leather filled the air. The Tiny Toons looked away from the horrible sight, but Rob watched his revenge play out completely. A tortured howl erupted, as Mephistopheles was consumed by his own black flames, until there was nothing left but the Doomblade speared into the earth. *** "Owwwwww," Buster moaned, "I feel like I've just watched an episode of Cow & Chicken." "Confused?" Babs asked, "Nauseous? Severe headache?" "Uhhhhhhhh..." "Zut Alors!" Fifi exclaimed, "Look at zee time! Babs, eet eez zee lunch hour alreadee! Vous said zat we would not be too late!" Babs looked at ze time on the Looniversity's clock. "But Fifi," she said incredulously, "we've just seen the...we were nearly...we just...*sigh*...okay, let's get back to school. Come on, blue-ears, we'll drop you off at the nurse's office...warn me if you're gonna be sick. Later, guys." Plucky and Shirley waved goodbye, as Fifi and Babs walked back to Acme Loo, carrying the disoriented Buster between them. "Plucky," said Shirley, "that was, like, a totally brave thing you did back there." "Uh, yeah," Plucky blushed, "well...you know me. Heck, I do stuff like that all the time." "Sure you do," Shirley giggled, "like, sure you do." "Seeing as I saved the day..." "...I wouldn't go *that* far..." "...how about a victory make-out session at my place? I'm real happy to see ya, if you know what I mean..." Shirley glared at Plucky. In the distance, there was the rumble of thunder. "Yipe!" Plucky gulped and ran, chased all the way by a row of lightning bolts. Shirley sighed and shook her head. There were coffee tables which knew more about romance, and whole three-piece suites which knew more about subtlety than Plucky did. After doing a quick aural scan of the area, she picked up a small demonic signal, not too far away. She walked a short distance, where she saw Rob sitting amongst the grass, in the field next to the Loo. He looked up as she approached. "Hi," he nodded, "how's the blue rabbit doing?" "He's fine," Shirley answered, "he's, like, still a little mixed up." "Understandable," said Rob, "so am I." Shirley sat down next to Rob, in the lotus position. "What was that you, like, said earlier?" she asked, "something about destiny?" "Scegliere il suo proprio destino," said Rob, "it's Italian. It means 'choose your own fate'...my dad always said that." They sat quietly for a moment, watching the breeze rustling in the trees. "Like," said Shirley, eventually, "are you okay?" "Don't know," Rob shrugged, "after all, it's not every day you find out you're an antichrist, or that your father was murdered by a demon. My dad left when I was very young. I always thought he'd just abandoned me 'n me mum...I guess I was wrong. Still, qualche volta le cose succedono appena." "What?" "'Sometimes things just happen'," Rob sighed sadly, "it's not up to me or you to decide whether or not things happen for the best. We just have to make the best out of 'em, Right?" "Like, il est si fou, il vient de travailler," Shirley agreed. "Pardon?" "Your philosophy," said Shirley, "'It's so crazy, it just might work'...Fifi taught me that." "Touché." There was another brief silence as they watched the tree-branches sway lightly in the calm wind. The sky was back to it's happy blue now, and the birds were back in their nests, chirping away like nothing had happened. "So," said Shirley, "...will you, like, be going back to England now, er some junk?" "Nah," said Rob, "there are some people back there I'd rather not see again. Besides, I've already signed up at 'The Loo'...I might as well finish the semester." "Speaking of which," said Shirley as she stood and dusted herself off, "are you gonna be okay with going back into school today?" "Yeah," said Rob, "I've had a lot of time to get used to losing my dad, but I could still do with something to take my mind off of what just happened here." He and Shirley slowly strode back to the school of schools. The only sounds were the chirping of the songbirds; and clangs and rattles which sounded like someone very busy in one of the Acme Looniversity workshops. "Like," said Shirley, "do you, like, know any famous action toons?" "Well..." Rob replied, "...I once played Razor from Swat Kats' stunt double." "Really?" "I kid you not. Some big, masked, cat geezer blew me up. It was quite fun." "Like, it *sounds* like fun," Shirley said doubtfully. She noticed something was missing, "...uh...like, what did you do with that totally creepy sword?" "Hmmm?" Rob replied, "...oh, I hid it in a safe place. A very odd little bird showed me where." The pair climbed up the Acme Looniversity steps. In the background, the Loo's clock tower struck twelve, and it's face lifted open to let Gogo Dodo jump out on a spring. "Coo-coo," he said, "coo-coo...nothing in here but us coo-coos..." As the camera zooms in, we see a flash of light, glinting off metal inside the clock tower. Zooming in some more, we can see that it's the Doomblade, propped up against the wall, next to a painted occult symbol. If we zoom in even closer, we might be able to hear voices... ~~Well, you screwed that one up~~ one says. "I DIDN'T SEE YOU DO ANY BETTER," says another ~~'Best two out of three', *honestly*. Could that *be* any cheesier?~~ "SHUT UP." ~~'Eeney meeney miney moe'...I mean, what the Hades were you thinking?~~ "DON'T MAKE ME DESTROY YOU, YOU GLORIFIED BREADKNIFE." ~~Ooh, I'm *so* scared. After the brilliant job you did back there, destroying those mortals? Lucifer help me.~~ "I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M STUCK WITH YOU FOR YET ANOTHER GENERATION! NOW I KNOW THE TRUE MEANING OF TORMENT!" We zoom out now, and leave the Acme Looniversity clock tower (and it's occupants) alone. No-one knew what the inside of the tower held, except maybe Gogo, and now Rob. It was better that way. The best hiding place is, after all, the most obvious. These are the tranquil forests of Acme Acres. You might've heard that name before... THE END Tiny Toon Adventures/Looney Tunes/Hanna Barbera characters and places are copyright Amblim/Warner Bros./Time Warner, and are used without permission or intent to profit. Everything else belongs to me :)