And we're back. (Believe it… or not. –Making a Jack Palance's impersonation-) Good one, Babs; can you say the disclaimer, please?
(Of course I can; 'The Disclaimer'… -pause- There, I said it.) Babs… (I'm just kidding! Disclaimer: the following story is done without profit intentions, and the author doesn't own any Tiny Toon Adventures or whatever cartoon character appearing here. The characters portrayed in this story are all copyrighted by Warner Brothers.)
Thanks, Babs; now, it's time for… The Wheel of Comedy!
-The large wheel, containing every single TTA character, appears in front of Babs and the author, and Babs gives it a good push-
It's spinning… it's spinning… it's stopping… (The suspense is killing me!) Cut down the caffeine, Babs. The wheel is stopping… and today's character is… FOWLMOUTH! (The rude, big mouthed little chicken has a chance!)
Guess it's time to start. (You said it, buddy… ON WITH THE SHOW!)
Traditional Roles.
A TTA fic from Acosta Pérez José Ramiro.
"Are y-you n-ne-ner... are you okay, Hamton?" Porky asked his pupil, the younger pig sitting next to him.
"I'm fine; it's just that I still don't know why I have to do this." Hamton sighed as looking through the car's window. "I'm a city pig, Porky, not a farmer, even if I dress like one."
Porky's little car stopped in front of a large farm, one that the Looniversity had rented for some special classes and projects. Porky smiled at his pupil and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I k-know, Hamton, I m-mean, I d-don't do this kind of r-role any more, but as your m-m-mentor, I m-must be sure you can play the s-same roles I can." Porky explained. "D-don't tell me you are af-f-f… scared of hard work."
"Hard work, never; it's the dirt I have problems with." Hamton got an uneasy smile and jumped down the car with his suitcase. "Not to mention I don't like the idea of being here a weekend on my own."
"S-see the b-bright side, Hamton; y-you will be t-the boss, the one in charge." Porky said, making his pupil a little bit excited about this assignment. "B-besides, you'll not b-be alone here. An-another of your classm-m-ma… pals will be here."
Before Hamton could ask anything, a large van approached the farm, stopping in front of the pigs, and a large toon rooster jumped down, followed by a little chicken.
"I'm telling you, I mean, I'm telling you, son, you're going to like this; you'll finally do something besides causing troubles in movie theaters and trying to get the loon girl's attention, her attention, I say." Foghorn Leghorn said to Fowlmouth, who was trying to talk as well.
"I know, but I'm a dadgum city guy; what I'm going to do in a dadgum farm?"
"I already said it, kid… boy, nice kid but a little short in the attention department; hey, I said 'short', you got it? Because you're not, I say, you're not very tall. It was a joke, son, laugh, I say, laugh a little bit." Foggy continued before finally spotting Porky and Hamton. "Hey, Bacon Boy, I see you already arrived with the kid."
"Y-you can say t-that again."
"Well, at least I say it faster than you." Foggy laughed before giving Porky a good natured slap at his back… a little bit too hard. "I'm just joking, I say, joking here, Porky. It's a little something to relax the boys because they are as tense as if we were sending them to Vietnam instead of a farm."
"Hi, Fowlmouth; you are doing the assignment too?" Hamton asked the chicken while their mentors talked… more like, Foggy did all the talking and Porky was trying to make him stop.
"Yes; if you ask me, the whole learning to do the dadgum role everyone expects from you because of your dadgum species is just dadgum stupid." Fowlmouth groaned. "I mean, dadgum Buster, Babs, Furrball, Calamity, Fifi, Beeper, Dizzy, Sweetie and Sneezer live and act as they're expected, but not everyone wants to do this dadgum thing."
"Well, at least we don't have to do as Mary." Hamton sighed.
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Cut scene to an African Jungle where Mary, in a leopard fur-like bikini, holding a spear and a shield, is chasing a little antelope. The girl stopped and frowned.
"Now I really wish I had a mentor; he or she wouldn't make me do this stuff. This can't be more racist."
At that moment, her beeper sounded and the girl read it, sighing.
"I was wrong." Mary made a quick scenario change, now ending at New York; she then spin-changed into a classic street girl's outfit, and started talking and moving full street rapper mode.
"Yo', dawg, yo' mama is so fat… oh, this is ridiculous!" Mary growled and spin-changed to her normal self; the girl made another scenario change, ending at the Looniversity. She then marched to the 'Traditional Roles' office.
"I so demand to know who had those ideas for my class…" Mary opened the door and froze when finding Montana Max messing with the school's files. The boy froze as well when realizing he had been discovered.
"Uh… eh… hi… and… oh… you see…" Max gulped and started sweating bullets while Mary glared at him and then broke the fourth wall.
"You guys go back to the story. I have to discuss a few things with Monty."
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Back to the farm, Foggy and Porky gave Fowlmouth and Hamton a list each.
"Okay, boys, listen, I say, pay attention… and later pay me a meal; that was another joke and I don't see you laughing." Foggy paced in front of the students. "Each of you has a list, I say, a list that mentions all the stuff we're expecting you to do this weekend. We have hidden, I say, hidden cameras here to study and evaluate, I say, I say, evaluate… wow, that's a school word… anyway we're evaluating your progress. Just remember, I say, remember to stay in character at all times."
Hamton gave a quick look to his list that basically had lots of farming chores. The pig sighed and nodded, knowing he was doing it anyway and therefore complaining wasn't an option. FM gave a look to his list and arched an eyebrow; his was a lot shorter than Hamton's.
Porky took Hamton to the farmer house for some last minute indications, while Foggy took FM to the henhouse; despite the obvious external differences, both houses had similar commodities, like a normal bed and a TV, but still quite humble compared to city houses.
"Uh, Foggy, I have a dadgum doubt here." Fowlmouth said while pointing at the list.
"Well, then, I say, then tell me what's the doubt, son. I'm your teacher, you have to tell me of these things; I don't read minds, I say, minds. I can't tell what your doubt is if you don't say it…"
"My dadgum point is… I really have to play dadgum pranks?" FM interrupted his mentor while pointing at that particular part of the list, a sly grin appearing on his beak.
"Of course you have to play pranks; I say, don't you see my cartoons, I say, my cartoons? Every farm needs a prankster, I say, a prankster, son, to keep things interesting, and that role usually goes to either a duck or a chicken, and I don't see Plucky around here, do you, because I don't see him, unless you think I need glasses and I, I say, I have perfect eye-sight."
Fowlmouth turned to see Porky and Hamton entering the farmer house, and the chicken smirked. Maybe Hamton had never done anything against him, but having permission to play pranks on a classmate and getting a passing grade for that… Fowlmouth wasn't ignoring this chance.
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The next day, right before sunrise, Hamton was sleeping soundly on his bed, unaware of the little toon stealthy entering the room and placing two large boxes at the sides of the bed. The toon exited the room quickly and dashed outside the house, grabbing a cable that was connected to the boxes he had left at the room.
"Time to start my dadgum job," Fowlmouth said to himself as connecting the cable to a microphone, "First dadgum chore in the dadgum list… waking up the dadgum farmer."
Fowlmouth took a deep breath.
"DAD-GUM-A-DOODLE-DOO!"
"YIKES!" Hamton's high leap made him pass through the house's roof, and then landed roughly next to Fowlmouth.
"Good dadgum day, Hammy." Fowlmouth chuckled. Hamton soft-glared at him when starting to recover but FM silenced him by showing the list to the pig. "Sorry, pal, but my dadgum chores list says I have to wake you up every dadgum morning."
"I see. Thanks… I guess." Hamton groaned and returned to the house to dress up, not noticing Fowlmouth had another list; the pig's that the chicken had found on the kitchen table when entering the house.
"So, this your dadgum list, uh? I'll see what I can do with this." Fowlmouth grinned before entering the house again and placing the list back on its place.
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After washing his face and dressing with his regular overalls yet adding a straw hat to the outfit, Hamton went to the kitchen and made himself a good breakfast. He was about to start eating when the chicken popped at the window.
"Hey, wait a dadgum moment, Hammy. You have to feed the farm animals before eating yourself, remember? Not to mention you have to milk the dadgum cow too."
"Oh, yes; thanks for reminding me." Hamton stood from the table and went to the barn. While the pig was absent, Fowlmouth ran to the stable and put a water bag, containing almost boiling water, under the cow, increasing her temperature. The chicken then popped his head out, realizing Hamton was heading to the henhouse; Fowlmouth removed the water bag and dashed to his place.
"Here, chick-chick-chick… here, chick-chick-chick…" Hamton said as throwing the seeds on the ground around the henhouse. Fowlmouth tapped his shoulder and gave Hamton a bowl.
"Hamton, if I have to eat dadgum chicken food, at least give it to me in a dadgum bowl." Fowlmouth frowned while Hamton gave him an embarrassing grin and served the food on the bowl.
"I'm sorry. Well, enjoy; I have to go milk the cow." Hamton sighed.
"Wait; you have to use something for that." Fowlmouth said before entering the henhouse. He retrieved two gloves from the fridge (he had put them there right after reading the pig's list) and then gave them to Hamton.
"Uh… Fowlmouth, Porky didn't say I had to use gloves. Thanks anyway but…" Hamton got silenced by FM raising a hand/wing.
"Do you dadgum know what are you going to grab, Hamton?"
The pig paled in realization and gulped, accepting the chicken's offer.
"These gloves are a little cold." Hamton said after putting them on.
"I cleaned them with dadgum purified water, and it was very dadgum fresh."
"Oh… thanks again." Hamton said, heading to the stable while Fowlmouth waited for a few seconds before dashing to the house.
At the stable, Hamton was sweating bullets; he was naturally shy, and what he was about to do… the pig shook his head, knowing he would disappoint Porky if not doing this, and prepared to work. He put a stool aside the cow and a bucket under her; he sat on the stool and then, after a few seconds of hesitation, touched 'it'… that was quite warm, and he was wearing very cold gloves.
The cow wide opened her eyes.
MOOO!
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At the house, Fowlmouth had already started eating Hamton's breakfast.
"Where's the dadgum butter?" The chicken said as giving a look to the table.
CRASH!
Fowlmouth turned to see Hamton on the fridge, with a hoof mark on his face, and pretty stunned; he had entered the fridge from behind, after trespassing the kitchen's wall.
"Oh, my…" Fowlmouth dashed to the fridge and grabbed something that was on the pig's head. "Here's the dadgum butter; thanks, buddy." The chicken returned to the table and smacked his forehead.
"I'm a dadgum fool!" Fowlmouth returned to the fridge, closed the door on Hamton's face and sat back on the table, breaking the fourth wall.
"Don't give me that dadgum look; I had to close the dadgum door, guys. Have dadgum ecological conscience."
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Hamton spent the rest of the morning repairing the holes he had made both when waking up and when the cow hit him. Luckily, Fowlmouth decided to sleep during that time so the pig had no major problems except the delay on his other chores.
"Let's see… I have to sing while working. No problem with that one." Hamton said as reading his list and walking through the farm. The pig cleared his throat and started. "Old McDonald had a farm; E-I-E-I-O; and in his farm he has a…"
WHAM!
"… brat…" Hamton stopped when Max landed in front of him. "A brat? Max, what are you doing here?"
"Help me…" Max whined weakly, the pig noticing he had a golf ball tied to his nose. Mary arrived next, using a golf player outfit.
"Hi, Hamton; just helping Max with the African-American stereotypes. Right now I'm Tigress Woods." Mary grinned at the pig as taking out a club and getting the right position in front of the ball. "FORE!"
WHACK!
"AAAAARGH!"
Hamton gulped as Max got lost at the distance and Mary followed him, whistling.
"I'm never, ever, offending this girl." Hamton said to himself before taking out his list, continuing his assignment. "Okay… oh, the tractor!"
Hamton went to the barn to take out the tractor for the next chore, working on the fields. The pig sat at the driver seat and tried to start the engine, but nothing happened.
"Oh, right. It needs gasoline." Hamton said after checking the fuel level. The pig jumped down the tractor to bring some gasoline; luckily, Porky had told him there were some barrels behind the hay.
Unfortunately, Foggy had told his pupil the same thing, and Fowlmouth was currently messing with the gasoline. Namely, hiding all barrels but one he put himself; the chicken hide under the hay when hearing Hamton coming. The pig filled a large can with some fuel and returned to the tractor to fill the tank, ignoring he was using Acme Rocket Fuel. Hamton jumped back on the tractor and started the engine.
VROOOOOM!
The tractor dashed out of the barn, and the farm, at an amazing speed. Before realizing it, Hamton was already at the highway, unable to stop the farm machine and holding the wheel as tightly as possible.
Calamity and Beeper, who were at the middle of one of their chases, felt the mighty wind produced by the tractor's speed as it passed next to them, and they started spinning like little Tasmanian devils, falling on their butts after a few seconds. They then looked at the direction the tractor left, and gave a long whistle.
'That's speed', Beeper said through one of his signs.
'I thought jets couldn't fly that low' Calamity commented with another one.
Another farmer, riding an old fashioned horse-pulled cart, was moving at a very slow pace next to the road when the tractor passed next to it. A second later, the horse was sitting at the farmer's place, and the farmer was pulling the cart.
A large oak, placed next to the road, felt the speed's effects as well, its branches falling and giving it a pine aspect.
A turtle was crossing the road the very same moment the tractor approached. The dashing machine left nothing but an empty shell at the road while the shell-less turtle, wearing nothing but underwear, was at a nearby tree, pale, sweating and trembling.
Finally, the tractor started sputtering, and lowered it speed. Hamton sighed in relief when it stopped completely.
"That… was… scary." The scared pig said to himself. "Guess now I'll need to push it back to the farm."
Hamton looked at a nearby sign, making a wild take when noticing five Elvis Presley's impersonators sleeping under a sign reading 'Welcome to Vegas'.
"Or maybe I'll call the car service… I wonder how much it costs to transport a tractor back to California." Hamton sighed and shook his head.
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It was night already when Hamton returned to the farm. The pig was extremely tired and ready for going bed early. The toon boy opened the door and was sent back by the loud music coming from the inside.
"What's going on here?" Hamton gasped, noticing several farm animals, including goats, sheep, chickens, ducks, horses, cows and even a few pigs having a wild party. Fowlmouth, wearing a party hat and a horn, was at the center of the room.
"Hey, Hamton, you need to repair the dadgum toilet. Guess I shouldn't have served dadgum beans with the nachos."
"Oh… my… okay, everybody out of here; party is over!" Hamton yelled; he normally wasn't a furious toon but this was just too much. Last time he allowed a wild party on his place, his family needed a new home. The pig stood in front of the door and pointed outside… right gesture, wrong location; all the animals obeyed and exited in stampede way.
RUUUUUMBLEEE…!
Hamton, lying on his back, and several hoof, chicken and webbed feet marks all over his body, shook his head to recover as Fowlmouth exited the house as well.
"Well, sorry I have to leave, Hamton, but I have to wake up very dadgum early to wake you up as well. Oh, and clean the dadgum place; it looks like a pig-… oh, right, never mind."
Hamton stood up, dusting himself off, and walked to his broom closet to start cleaning before going to bed. On his way, he found several papers on the floor, including his list, something he noticed immediately as it was the only non mustard-covered paper of the bunch.
"I wonder if my list includes selling chickens on Kentucky." Hamton said as taking the list and giving it another read, wide-opening his eyes when finding something he hadn't really paid attention the first time.
"Chore number twenty one… controlling the farm's prankster," Hamton got a little smile and started thinking, coming with a good plan in no time; the pig started looking around the mess and eventually found his phone agenda. If Fowlmouth was using the chores from Hamton's list against him, the pig could do the same with FM's; and luckily, Hamton remembered Foggy's cartoons quite well.
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The next morning, Fowlmouth got ready to repeat his 'waking up' call; the chicken did as the previous day, and took a deep breath, getting the microphone next to his bill, not noticing the toon approaching him from behind.
"Good morning, Fowlmouth!"
Hamton's enthusiastic greeting surprised the chicken; before realizing it, Fowlmouth had swallowed the microphone.
"Guess I already had my dadgum breakfast." FM said while rubbing his belly and getting an uneasy face, "Hey, and what are you doing outside your dadgum bed? You should wait until I dadgum wake you up!"
"I had to wake up really early to receive the dog."
"That's no excuse… wait, you said you received a dadgum dog?"
"Yes, it's on my list; I have to get sure the farm is as complete as possible, and all farms need at least a dog." Hamton shrugged as pointing behind him. "He's sleeping at his house."
The chicken looked at the little doghouse, with a very small white tail visible from the outside.
"Oh, well… go do your dadgum chores. I'll go say 'hello' to the dadgum dog." Fowlmouth said to Hamton, a sly grin appearing on the chicken's face. The pig nodded and walked inside the house, a little smile forming on his face as well.
"Now, time for a dadgum chore; hound teasing." Fowlmouth chuckled as he took a plank out of hammer-space and walked to the doghouse singing his own version of 'Camp Town Races'.
"Dadgum ladies sing dis song… Dad-Gum! Dad-Gum! Dadgum race track five gums long… oh, dam-gum day!"
The chicken stopped in front of the doghouse and chuckled silently; he then grabbed the dog's tail and prepared the plank, aiming at the canine's butt. He couldn't connect the first hit as a massive white paw/hand grabbed him by the neck.
"Von't even try that, anemic and veak chicken!"
Fowlmouth gulped (as much as he could while being choked) as Arnold's massive built emerged from the doghouse in classical 'clowns getting out of little car' fashion.
"Little, fatty pig called me to be this farm's vatchdog, and I'm not letting ya interrupt my rest!" Arnold grabbed the plank with his free hand, and tossed Fowlmouth up in the air, ready to use him as a baseball.
WHACK!
SPLASH!
Fowlmouth fell on the farm's well; the chicken emerged a few seconds later by climbing up the bucket's rope, spitting some water when his head became visible.
"Okay… that was dadgum unexpected." The chicken then felt something on his head and grabbed it. "Hey, at least I found a coin… oh, wait… it's a dadgum bottle cap."
Fowlmouth felt someone grabbing him by the collar and grabbing the cap from his hand.
"Taz likes bottle caps!" The toony marsupial smiled in glee before tossing Fowlmouth over his shoulder… and back to the well.
SPLASH!
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Fowlmouth sat on a fence, reading one of Foggy's basic text books; 'How to Tease/Prank/Annoy a Dog', co-written by Heathcliff Cat and Foggy himself.
"When the dog you are antagonizing is too much, look for external help. In chickens' case, the best option is tricking a hawk or a weasel into trying to eat the dog instead of you." Fowlmouth read out loud, frowning at the end. "And where I'm going to find a dadgum hawk or weasel?"
At that moment, Fowlmouth got tackled by a purple mammal.
"Moi now, as vou say… Got vou!" Fifi grinned as carrying the stunned chicken under her arms.
"Hey, Fifi, what are you dadgum doing?" Fowlmouth asked the skunk when he more or less recovered.
"Moi am doing a favor to vour menzor. Someone reminded him zat vou needed a predazor to face, and skunks and weasels are ze same family, so Foggy asked Pepe to ask moi to do zis." Fifi explained as walking while Hamton looked at them from a distance, chuckling silently.
"Oh, yeah? Well, you're not going to take me that dadgum easy!" Fowlmouth jumped from Fifi's arms and growled while clenching his fists.
Ten seconds later…
"Okay… I admit it… it was easy…" Fowlmouth, now with a blackened eye and several bruises, was again carried away by Fifi, who was perfectly clean; the skunk girl, being stronger than practically all her potential suitors (or prey) had no problems to defeat him. Fowlmouth then got hit by inspiration.
"Hey, Feef, wait! You really have to do this dadgum thing?"
"Oui. Besides moi, there was only anozer weasel-like toon we could get, and vou wouldn't like him."
Fowlmouth ignored who could be the other weasel since, whoever he was, wouldn't suit his current plan.
"I dadgum get it, but, wouldn't you like to do your usual dadgum stuff better? I mean, chasing dadgum skunk boys and stuff like that."
"Oh, oui; maybe moi am with Calamity now, but still do zose chases on screen."
"Okay, if you let me go, I'll find you a dadgum skunk you can chase for a while."
Fifi pondered about this for a few moments and accepted the deal; after all, Foggy and Pepe had told her to give FM a chance to defend himself or even try to trick her.
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Fowlmouth went to the storage room and exited with a can of black paint. The chicken poured it on a large, not-to-deep hole behind a haystack, and then tied a rope to an anvil hidden in the hay, the other extreme tied to a nearby rock. Anyone tripping on the rope would fall on the hole.
"Good thing dadgum Arnold is already white so I don't have to paint his dadgum back." Fowlmouth chuckled and continued with his plan.
Arnold was currently outside his house, doing some push-ups and his working out equipment all around. Fowlmouth approached silently, jumping behind the doghouse for coverage. Now, he had to make Arnold chase him.
"As another dadgum chicken said, I knew the job was dangerous when I took it." FM said under his breath as stealthy approaching Arnold from behind; the chicken tied a rope to a large weight, and then the other end to the dog's tail. Arnold was currently lifting a large weight bar when Fowlmouth acted.
"DAD-GUM-A-DOODLE-DOO!"
Arnold dropped the bar in surprise, and it landed on his right foot. The dog yelled in pain and then turned at the chicken giving him a mocking grin before dashing away.
"I'll break ya apart, fragile and annoying chicken!"
Arnold started chasing FM all around the farm, barely noticing the weight on his tail; actually, the chicken wasn't expecting the dog to notice it, the weight's purpose being to slow down the chaser. Fowlmouth gave Arnold a quick glance as approaching the haystack; he had to be careful to avoid tripping himself.
Unfortunately for Fowlmouth, Arnold finally noticed the weight. The dog, angrily, grabbed the rope and snapped it; then, in an Olympic-like throw, the dog started spinning the weight over his head and threw it at the chicken when getting enough impulse.
Fowlmouth saw the weight's shadow over his head and gasped, looking at the weight falling over him. The chicken started looking for a place to protect himself and, by mere instinct, jumped at the first safe spot he found, the haystack… that had an anvil inside.
CLANG!
The impact sent Fowlmouth out of the hay; the chicken shook his head and then, a split second before the weight hit him, the chicken reacted and jumped aside.
"That was too dadgum close." Fowlmouth sighed and walked away, tripping with the rope.
SPLOSH!
Fowlmouth, angrily, emerged from the paint hole, all the front part of his body entirely black. The chicken then remembered something and gulped; his feathers were white, and, even if wearing a shirt, the back of his head and legs wasn't painted!
"Le petite skunk!"
Fowlmouth yipped in fear when noticing Fifi dashing against him; now she was on character, the skunk girl wouldn't recognize him.
"Now I wish she would want to eat dadgum me!" Fowlmouth said before running away with Fifi right behind him. Arnold noticed this, and, since Fifi had already started releasing her fumes, the dog realized it would be better to keep his distance.
Fowlmouth ran all around the farm with Fifi not very far behind. The chicken made a quick dash through the corn field, hoping to miss the skunk there; it actually helped him gain a few precious seconds, even when Fifi's stench dried and reduced to dust several corn plants and scared away the scarecrow.
The chicken ran out of the field, smiling when noticing a barrel that would make a good hiding place for a while. Fowlmouth jumped inside the barrel but was immediately kicked out.
"Look for your own hideout, idiot!" Max snapped at the chicken as he popped out of the barrel, the boy badly bruised, his chest naked and wearing boxing gloves. The brat returned inside the barrel when spotting someone approaching.
"Hey, FM, had you seen Max?" Mary, wearing a white top and red boxing gloves and shorts, asked her friend. "I'm still showing him the consequences of the negative stereotypes."
"He's in there." Fowlmouth pointed at the barrel; Mary grinned and took out an anvil, putting it on top of the barrel so Max couldn't escape. The girl then carried the barrel away while Max's muffled and terrified voice was heard.
"WAIT! I CAN'T HELP YOU RECREATE THE ALI VS FOREMAN FIGHT! MY SKIN ISN'T EVEN DARK!"
"It will be once we're done." Mary replied casually. "Don't complain; it was either this stereotype or the head hunters."
Fowlmouth returned to his problem and started running again, searching for a hiding place; the chicken became quite scared when hearing Fifi's voice approaching.
"Come here, wherever vou are, mon petite farm skunk!"
"How Cal can stand that dadgum stench off-screen, I'll never know." Fowlmouth gulped in fear and, having no other place to run, dived inside a nearby haystack; luckily, this one had no anvils inside.
"YIKES!" FM yelped in pain, still inside the haystack. "Just my dadgum luck; I jump inside the dadgum haystack and find the dadgum needle."
Hamton, whistling the Old McDonald's song, approached the haystack the same moment Fifi did the same, the chicken staying silent the whole time.
"Excuse moi, Hamton, but had vou seen a petite skunk around here?"
"You mean a skunk or Fowlmouth with an unlucky paint job?" The pig chuckled, making her to giggle a little.
"Vou stay in vour character and moi will stay in mon." Fifi shrugged. "After all, zat is why vou called Foggy and Pepe, no?"
Fowlmouth, inside the haystack, gritted his teeth to hold an angry yell.
"Yes, I know; I hated to do that but it is part of my chores."
"Moi knows… well, it seems our chicken friend had, as vou say, disappeared." Fifi commented and, after giving her former boyfriend a friendly kiss on the cheek, started walking away. "Guess I'll leave now; mon dear coyote of passion is taking moi to ze movies zonight. See vou later, Hamton."
"Same here, Feef, and thanks; I still have a lot of job to do here, like baling the hay." Hamton waved bye at the skunk girl.
"Oh, that –CENSORED- pig, I'm so going to…" Fowlmouth's thoughts got interrupted when remembering what Hamton just said. "He's making dadgum hay bales?"
Hamton started tossing large amounts of hay into an Acme Baling Machine that was just a couple feet away, throwing Fowlmouth inside without noticing it.
WHIR!
CHUG-CHUG!
POOT-POOT!
DADGUM…!
BIIIIIIM…!
The machine's noise covered Fowlmouth's complain/yell/pain-scream, and, a few seconds later, as the other side of the machine expulsed perfectly done bales, it also threw away a chicken with absolutely no feathers and covered only by a pair of blue trunks. Fowlmouth shook his head and turned back at the machine that expelled a feathers bale among with the hay ones.
"Well, at least it washed away the dadgum paint." FM sighed and carried the bale to his henhouse.
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Hamton smiled as sitting at the house's porch. Without Fowlmouth playing pranks on him all day, the pig could do the job in record time and even enjoy it.
"This place isn't that bad once you get used." Hamton thought out loud. "Hope I wasn't that mean with Fowlmouth; hadn't seen him in hours."
"Because I was in my dadgum henhouse pasting my dadgum feathers back on place," Hamton turned and gulped at the sight of the very angry chicken approaching him.
"Uh… look, Fowlmouth, about that…"
"Forget the dadgum explanation." FM growled. "Look, I understand why you did that, but you went too dadgum far! I just called Acme Employment Agency for a little dadgum surprise."
At that moment, in a perfect cue, an Acme Delivery Box fell on top of Fowlmouth.
"The dadgum sky is falling…" The stunned chicken emerged from under the box and, after shaking his head, took out a wrecking bar and started using it to open the box.
"W-what are you doing?" Hamton asked, visibly afraid.
"Fifi said there was another dadgum weasel toon available, so I called the dadgum agency to ask them to deliver him here. And I'm going to trick him into dadgum trying to eat you and Arnold no matter what!"
"Oh, my… Fowlmouth, no! You don't know who the other weasel is?"
Fowlmouth stopped struggling, the box now half-open.
"Uh… now you said it… no, I didn't dadgum ask."
The two young toons froze when hearing a low growl coming from the box, and then gulped when looking at the big, predatory, yellow eyes looking back at them from the inside.
"Uh… Hamton… dadgum wolverines are weasel-related?"
"Yes."
"You learn something new every dadgum day." Fowlmouth chuckled nervously right before two large clawed paws broke apart the box's side. "RUN!"
Hamton and Fowlmouth dashed away in panic and dived inside Arnold's doghouse, the dog emerging and taking them out almost immediately.
"Vat are ya two diminutive and insignificant toons doing?"
The pig and chicken looked at the frowning dog and then glanced at each other, nodding after a few seconds.
"Arnold, you got promoted to farmer." Hamton shook the dog's hand. Arnold was about to say something when Fowlmouth shook his other hand.
"And you also got promoted to dadgum top animal of the dadgum farm."
"Two promotions in one day… that is so…" Arnold couldn't believe his ears, the canine grinning broadly at the news.
"Yes, we know… okay, now, your first dadgum job is to protect your dadgum farm." Fowlmouth said before he and Hamton dashed to their respective farm homes and returned with their suitcases.
"What he said; good luck!" Hamton waved bye at the dog right before he and FM ran away. Arnold was about to say something when feeling a warm breath behind him; the canine turned to face a snarling, hungry-looking wolverine just as big and muscular as himself.
"Guess now I have to get used to my own traditional role." Arnold frowned and then, in a split second, put on a black leather jacket and took out a shotgun. "Hasta la vista, Baby!"
Meanwhile, Hamton and Fowlmouth were trying to hitch a ride back to Acme Acres.
"You know, I think we just messed with our dadgum grade." Fowlmouth said to the pig.
"Yes… maybe we should return." Hamton sighed.
A second later, the duo turned when hearing loud battle noises.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT…!
BOOM!
KA-BOOM!
WHAM!
POOM-POOM!
BANG!
The pig and chicken looked at each other and nodded before turning back at the road.
"Summer dadgum school?"
"You can say that again."
THE END.
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(Whoever said country living was peaceful never met Arnold, Fowlmouth and Hamton, uh?) Statement of the year, Babs.
Thanks a lot for reading this story, guys. (We hope you had enjoyed it. Please, drop a review before leaving. –spin changes into a hypnotist- You know you want to do it… listen to my voice… you'll drop a review… and then 'moo' like a cow when hearing the word 'banana'…)
I'll better go before Babs asks for my ATM password. So long, everyone, and keep the good writing.