(This is based on a funny dream I had last month. I just added some creativity to it for the sake of extending it into a short story. This is my first FanFiction!)
One moonlit night, Charlie Chaplin met his friend Buster Keaton at a street corner so they could talk. It was two o'clock in the morning. Charlie was trying to convince Buster to accompany him to the Marx Brothers' apartment. Charlie explained that he had let the Brothers borrow his wallet three months ago, and they still hadn't returned it. Buster was stone-faced until Charlie revealed that he intended to break into the Marxes' apartment. "Well, I don't know," Buster hesitated, only his big eyes showing his doubt. "What will your friend Douglas think?" Charlie insisted, "I need to get it all by myself! Let's go! They've had it long enough!" His ice-blue eyes reflected the moonlight. Buster reluctantly agreed to go with him.
They sneaked through the streets until they came to the Marxes' apartment building. They lived on the top floor, and all the lights were out in the apartment. Buster whispered, "Everything's locked! We can't get in." "Nonsense! We'll go up the fire escape and try their window," was the response.
Charlie's idea worked. They were now in the apartment, groping their way through the semi-darkness; a streetlight provided some illumination to go by. "I somehow don't feel right about this," Buster's smoky baritone voice came from the dark. He'd forgotten to whisper; "I feel like we're stealing." Charlie retorted—running his hand nervously through his thick, curly hair—"It's not stealing! It's my wallet! It's not sneaky!" "Then how come we're whispering in the dark?" Buster asked. Charlie didn't answer. They proceeded forward into the apartment. Luckily, Charlie almost immediately found his wallet on a coffee table and snatched it up just as Buster suddenly tripped on a mini, die-cast version of The General and did a loud pratfall. There was a crash. A mini train derailment. The lights came on. Charlie panicked. The Marx Brothers instantly appeared out of thin air, surrounding Charlie, who tried to hide the wallet behind his back. Buster was so frightened at what might happen, and so firmly believed in self-preservation, that he quietly ran out of the room, went down the fire escape, and bolted as fast as he could down the street (which was suddenly in broad daylight) to the nearest café. An admiring waitress took his order. Meanwhile, Charlie put on his most charming smile, his "prop grin" as he called it, but the Brothers (in their familiar costumes and makeup) grimly demanded an explanation. "I just came in to take my wallet back. It's not stealing!" he exclaimed. "All right," said Groucho. "How shall we punish him for not stealing?" They were blocking Charlie's escape route. The Marxes thought and planned hard. Suddenly Harpo had an idea. Thrilled, he said in sign language, not pantomime, that they should tickle Charlie mercilessly until he apologized twenty times. They agreed heartily. "That's-a fine!" Chico exclaimed, then sneered. Harpo honked in agreement. Charlie looked terrified.
Buster meanwhile was contentedly sitting at a table in the café, right by the window where he could watch the cars and pedestrians. With his feet propped up on the table, he took a sip of his coffee and continued reading the newspaper. It related the reassuring news that Harold Lloyd would soon be returning to filmmaking, after being injured during a photoshoot. "That's a relief," Buster said aloud.
During this time the Marx Brothers were cruelly fulfilling their punishment of Charlie. He had only been able to apologize three times. After a quarter of an hour, Groucho stopped and said, "All right, let's let him go before he wets himself." The others reluctantly followed suit. They let Charlie up and he ran for his life out of the apartment, out the front entrance, with his wallet safely in his pocket. At some point the Marxes' home was suddenly moved down to the first floor and the front doors had been unlocked. Charlie vowed never to set foot there again. Or to bring Buster along for moral support.
At the café….."I wonder what happened to Charlie," Buster wondered unconcernedly.