TTA Short Stories By Abel DuSable dusable@escape.ca EXO-VS-ENDO Acme Loo Teacher's Lounge: Day Bugs, Lola, Sylvester, Fudd, Leghorn and Pepe are in idle dialogue as they sheaf through piles of paperwork. Bugs: Ehh, It don't matter how many times I do dis. I hate midterms almost as much as the kids do. Lola: I know what you mean. Marking thirty tests for each class can wear you down after a while. Pepe: And not all of zem are ze rocket scientists. Yes? Wile E. Coyote enters, brandishing a solitary sheet of paper in one hand. Wile E: Look upon my works ye mighty and dispair! Leghorn: Ah say, Ah say What's put the burr in your britches there, son? Wile E: Only proof that my protégé is perhaps the most brilliant within this academy, and that I have the proof in hand! Sylvester: (outraged) Fiddlethicks! Prepothtoruth! Completely... Wile E: Before you drown another syllable my expectorating colleague, I present unto you the results of Calamity Coyote's Toon Physics 101 exam. First a little background information is in order. Every term when I create one of these little beauties, I have chosen to make the addition of an extra credit question, just to give the little hairballs a fighting chance. The question I have chosen this year is to identify whether or not toon Hell is Exothermic or Endothermic as well as supply proof to support the theory. Pepe: Pardonez moi, but what is zis Exo-Thermique and Endo-Thermique? Lola: (Crumpling up a sheet of paper) Short answer... Exothermic means that something gives off heat, And Endothermic is when something absorbs heat. Everyone stares at Lola and she smiles and shrugs. Lola: What can I say, I always got A's in Physics. Lola tosses the paper ball, ricocheting it off of the coffeepot, the drink machine, Fudd's head and the coat-rack before it falls perfectly into the waste basket. Pepe: Ah always got A's in Gym. Per'aps Ah was in ze wrong class. No? Wile E: A-HEM! As I was saying, most of the student body wrote proofs of their beliefs using some variation of Boyle's Law... Lola: ...which states, that gas heats up when compressed, and cools off when it is allowed to expand... Leghorn: Tha- Ah say, That would explain the sensations I get when ah go on a southern-style chili binge. The teachers laugh as Wile E attempts to ignore the interruptions. Wile E: (Growing frustrated) MOST used Boyle's law, except for Montana Max, who submitted an odd phone number with a 666 area code and instructions to ask whomever answered the question. The other original answer came from my star pupil who outdid himself this time with the following essay. Wile E begins reading straight from the paper before him. Wile E: Ahem... "In order to determine the current exothermic vs endothermic state of Toon Hell one must be certain of the mass of the location in question. As we know the mass of Toon Hell will change as Toon Souls enter and leave. As a large portion of religions in the world today state that if a Toon does not belong to their religious order they will go to Toon Hell. As it is unlikely that anyone can belong to all religions at once, that would mean that -EVERYONE- goes to hell and the number of souls there will increase exponentially." Fudd: Everwewone goes there? Oooh...I don't wike the sound of that. Wile E: "As the entire purpose of Toon Hell is to torment souls for ALL of eternity then it is safe to say that when a soul arrives there it will NEVER leave. Therefore the mass of Toon Hell can only increase." Bugs: Ehhh, Quite the little doomsayer you got dere Doc. Wile E: Shhh... "Next we need to know the current volume of Toon Hell and whether or not it is changing. Using Boyle's Law, we might put forth the theory that in order for the pressure and the temperature to remain the same, the volume of Toon Hell -MUST- expand as they experience new arrivals." Lola: (singsong) Told you so. Wile E: "Two options are left open to us here, both of them unpleasant. Option 1: Assuming that the expansion of Toon Hell is slower than the rate of souls entering it then obviously the temperature will increase, and the pressure will build, until... ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE!" Suddenly, the mortified teachers' expressions change to that of amusement as they attempt to suppress their laughter. Wile E: "Option 2: However, should the opposite occur, by which I mean that Toon Hell is expanding at a greater rate than the arrival of souls, then both pressure and temperature will drop like a cheap set of socks until... HELL FREEZES OVER!" Everyone in the lounge except for an extremely smug Wile E. break out laughing. Once they regain their composure Bugs pats Wile E on the back. Bugs: I hope the kid packed an extra set of shoes. He went a long way fer dat joke. Lola: But he won't get the extra credit though. Wile E: What make you say that Miss Bunny? Lola: He gave you two options but didn't choose one of them as an answer. Wile E: Ah, I did not have a chance to finish reading you his essay. Sylvester: Tho? Which ith it? Exthothermic or Endothermic? Leghorn: Yeah son! Don't leave us hanging here! What's the answer? Wile E: The lad writes... "Should we accept the postulate given to one Mr. Plucky Duck by one Miss Shirley McLoon early last semester that, and I quote, 'It will be like, a cold day in Hell before I call you my boyfriend or some junk!!!' then add to the equation that she still spurns every advance he has attempted then only one conclusion may be reached. Option 2 cannot possibly be true and that option 1 is the *ONLY* viable alternative. Toon Hell is exothermic." All of the teachers smile at one another before laughing their heads off. Camera shifts to the outside corridor where several kids walk past casting quizzical glances at the door. Enter Buster and Plucky. Plucky squiggles a finger in one 'ear' as the two pause to listen to the laughter. Buster: You OK Plucky? Plucky: Yeah... my ears are burning though. END CONFESSIONS Montanna Max's Mansion: Night. Rain and far off lightning and thunder roil outside the walls. Inside Monty and Grovely stand outside the open door of Monty's dad's bedchamber. Inside, an elderly Doctor looks over the father with a grave expression. He packs up his bag and steps out into the hall with Monty and Grovely. Monty: Well Doc? How is he? Doc: I've done all I can. It's up to the almighty whether or not he'll pull through but I'm afraid it looks rather grim. We'll know by morning. Monty: It's that bad huh? Doc: I'm afraid so. I know this is not the right time but about my fee... Monty: (distracted tone) Your check is in the mail Doc. Doc: Thank you. I see you have a lot on your mind right now, I'll see myself out. Exit the Doctor. Monty turns to Grovely and smiles. Monty: Well Grovely, did you get those prices I asked for? Grovely: Yes sir, but do you think it wise to discuss this so close to your father's door? Monty: Ah, he can't possibly hear us. Grovely: Very well then. To have your father interred in a Mausoleum the cost is upwards of Five Million Dollars. Monty: Woah... skip that. What about just a nice coffin with one of those steel vaults around it and a headstone? Grovely : That would run around Fifteen Thousand Dollars including the cost of the burial arrangements. Monty: Oooh... Well, what if we forget the sleeve, and change the coffin to a simple pine box. Dad always said he liked the simple things in life. Grovely: The cost of that, the services and the burial plot would drop to three thousand Dollars, Sir. Monty: Uh... Hey! We can always bury him at sea. He liked the ocean. Grovely: Then it would only cost you Fifteen Hundred Dollars, and we would need a certificate to transport the body. Monty: Well... What if we cremate him? We could skip all that nasty decomposition stuff. He'd understand I'm only thinking of him, Right? Grovely: Without a doubt sir. Three Hundred Dollars. Monty: I know. We could go out into the country and just bury him at the side of the road! Dad LOVED the great outdoors. Grovely: 20 bucks for gas and there's a shovel in the gardener's shed. Monty: Yeah... we'll go with that one. From the next room Monty's Dad calls out weakly. Dad: ...Monty... Monty: Rats... he's still alive? Rrrr... I'll be right back. Start looking for that shovel. Grovely: Very good sir. Monty enters his father's bedchamber and walks over to the side of the bed with a meek look on his face. Monty: You called for me Dad? Dad: Monty, I know things don't look good for me right now so ... I have something to confess. Monty: Confess? Confess what? Dad: Monty... Your mother and I... Monty: Yeah? Dad: Well... we were never properly married. Monty: Never properly... WHAT??? Dad: I'm afraid it's true, Monty. Monty: But... that... Do you know what that would make *ME*?! Dad: Yes... and a cheap one too. END OBLIGITORY SABLE SELF-INSERTION Acme Loo cafeteria: Lunchtime. The usual variety of nameless toons sit, eat, talk and do other lunchtime things in the background. In the foreground Abel DuSable sits at an empty table with a half-eaten sandwich on a plate, a cup of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. Enter Buster, Babs, Fifi, Calamity, Plucky, Shirly and Harriet. All have trays of cafeteria food and stand around the table until Abel looks up. Abel: Uh... Hi there? Buster: Hi Abel. Mind if we sit here? Abel: Yeah, sure. Take a load off. The toons take up positions around the table. (Harriet sitting *VERY* close to the young Sable) and begin eating their lunches. Plucky: So, whatcha got lined up for us next? Abel: Beg Pardon? Babs: We know you've been writing more of your "Stories". We just want and advance tip-off on what sort of hell you're gonna put us through this time. Plucky: By "us" you mean "Buster and yourself", right? Abel: Are you two still sore about "KITH"? Buster: (suddenly defensive) Uh... Of course not! It's just... other toons have suffered at the tip of your pen. Babs: Remember Multifeeffff... Multifluff... Mub... Fifi: (Sighing) ..."MULTIFIFITY". Eet is not zat 'ard to spell. Babs: Yeah, that one. You also killed off Plucky in "Fractured Images". Plucky: That story doesn't count, besides, I like DuSable's little tales. Anyone who DOESN'T idolize you two in ink is OK in my book. Harriet: (running a finger tip along Abel's ear) So... am *I* going to get a bigger role in the next story? HMMMMM? Abel: (Chuckling and brushing Harriet's hand away) Aw, com'on Harriet. You know I don't like to make the details of my stories public knowledge. Well, except in special circumstances of course. I'm sorry but you'll all have to just wait and see. The Toons all groan in disappointment and turn to their lunches. Abel sips at his coffee mug and reads the rest of his paper as Babs scowls at him. Babs: Well all I can say is if you chuck one more bad pun in my direction I'll... Babs doesn't have a chance to finish as Abel performs a spit-take and leaps out of his seat gesturing at the paper. Abel: (absolute disbelief) *GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!!* I might not have a chance to! Fifi: Pourquois pas? Calamity: Yes! Please tell us why? Abel: Warner Brothers is about to undergo a merger! All sound in the cafeteria abruptly ends as everyone drops what they were doing and stares at Abel in absolute terror. Buster: (shocked) WHAT! But... they can't... it's not... who could they *POSSIBLY* be merging with? Abel: (Also shocked) It says here, that the merger will become a conglomeration of Polygram Records, Warner Brothers and Keebler. Calamity: But that's ludicrous! What could those three companies ever have in common to initiate a merger? Abel: I'm hanged if I know, but apparently this new company will be called "POLY-WARNER-CRACKER". The silence is so thick not even the crickets are chirping. Everyone in the room stares at Abel, then Babs reaches down to her tray and scoops up some brown lumps in grey sauce with her bare hand. Every other toon in the room does the same and all narrow their eyes at the sable. Abel: (noticing the people) Uh oh. Babs: I warned you DuSable. Abel: (nervously backing towards the exit) Now Babs... put that stuff down. It hasn't been classified by science yet. Babs: Any last words Weasel-boy? Abel: Just two... **IRIS OUT!!! FOR THE LOVE OF HEAVEN, IRIS OUUUUUT!!** As Abel scrambles for the door the camera iris' out and the very wet sound of flung cafeteria food colliding with something fills the darkness. END