Daffy Duck screams hysterically as he desperately clings to the driver of the motorcycle he finds himself on. As the vehicle twists and turns its way through heavy traffic at a high speed, Daffy's mind is filled with things he should've written on his last will and testament.
For a long moment, the duck's mind is so preoccupied on fear of death that he finds that he is unable to recall just how, exactly, he came to be in this mess to begin with...
Daffy never suspected that he'd ever work two jobs. Yet even so, here he was working at this stupid grocery store.
Money is not Daffy's issue. Boredom, however, is.
He works two jobs simply because he figures that's best for him; without anything else to do, he spends most of his free time talking to Bugs Bunny.
He scoffs and shakes his head. No, he's remembering wrong again. Talking to himself would be the proper phrasing.
Since Bugs Bunny's apparent death, he's been very lonesome, so he at some point took to acting out lines and imagining Bugs by his side. However, ever since a package from "B" showed up at his doorstep, his imagination has been a little... strange, to say the least.
Now, the last thing he wants to do is imagine.
However, he still hates people. He hates this secondary job, and in fact, he's beginning to wonder how in the world he was qualified for it.
As he stands there in a bored sort of way, he idly rings up the purchases of a customer he has not yet actually glanced at. The customer has not yet said a word, so Daffy isn't actually completely away of his presence; he's too caught up in his own thoughts.
When he reaches for another item and finds nothing, he finally snaps out of his trance and looks at the register. "That'll be twenty-stheven ninety-five. Debt or cash?" At this point, he finally looks up at his customer, and nearly reels back out of a stunned confusion.
Though it's hot as hell outside, the customer before him is fully dressed. A scarf covers his entire lower face, he wears large, dark sunglasses, a long-legged/long-sleeved biking suit in various shades of black and gray, black leather gloves, and a large baseball cap.
Daffy blinks a few times to make sure he's not just imagining this person. "... I think you're a credit card type of persthon." He sputters after a brief pause.
The customer says nothing, but instead seems to move a little to look past Daffy. When the duck turns his head, he sees another customer approaching, just as dressed up as the one currently standing in front of the register, but who stands around four feet tall.
Daffy whips his head back around to look at the customer who is to be paying in time to see said customer grab for his left wrist. He fails to react in time and ends up held by an iron grip, and is pulled out from behind the register. The customer breaks into a run, dragging Daffy along.
"Hey, lemme go you fr-" -The sounds of a shotgun going off, people shouting in unison, and a window shattering all pierce Daffy's eardrums at once- "-HOLY CRAP!"
The mysterious customer who appears to be playing rescuer shoves open the doors and pulls Daffy outside to the parking lot, and over to a prepped motorcycle.
"No way. You don't expect me to get on that with you, do you?" Daffy asks as the person releases his wrist and hops on.
The person turns his head toward Daffy, as if glaring at him, and the sound of another shotgun blast from inside the store fills the air.
"Point taken," Daffy says in a rushed manner and leaps on behind what was a customer but a few moments ago.
... and then he remembers, and he proceeds to scream louder.
"STHTOP THISTH BIKE! STHTOP THISTH BIKE!" Daffy repeats over and over, but the driver only seems to push the motorcycle to go faster with each demand. "AAAAAAAAHHH!"
Though he's screaming on the outside, however, Daffy suddenly thinks, rather calmly so, 'I knew working at that damned sthupermarket wasth going to be the end of my career.'
He watches frantically as the ends of the scarf worn by his obviously crazed driver whips in the wind, and he worries for a moment that perhaps it could get caught on something and result in their utter demise. He's reluctant to release a hand from the driver's torso for even a second due to the fear of flying off of the bike, but even so, he swiftly reaches up and snatches the stray scarf ends and holds them down against the person's left shoulder.
He ducks his head, no pun intended, when a bullet zooms by. When he reluctantly turns his head, he sees that the other, clearly more insane person also has a motorcycle, and is now pursuing them with a pistol in hand as opposed to a shotgun.
"WHERE DID YOU GUYSTH GET THESTHE GUNSTH?!" Daffy screams, exasperated and really just wanting to go home at this point.
This chase continues for a short while longer, until Daffy's "savior" makes a sharp turn in front of a moving car, making Daffy emit a short shriek not unlike that of the vehicle's tires as it brakes hard and turns, blocking their pursuer's immediate path.
Daffy is granted the amusing sight at that point of getting to watch their pursuer fly right over their heads, having been flung from his motorcycle.
"HA HAAA!" Daffy shouts as they drive by him, "STHUCK IT!"
His driver, for the first time, makes a sound, albeit a very short and quiet one, almost like a brief snicker.
Daffy is not please when they stop in an alleyway.
"What?! All of thisth bull, and you don't even have a place for me to sthtay?"
The driver gets off of the bike and takes a few steps, appearing to ignore him.
"Don't turn your back to me like that! You worthle-"
The driver unzips his biking suit and begins to strip.
"Wh-..." Daffy watches intently, despite being confused.
The driver has gray fur, which is dirty and matted, and also covered by various scars. When he bends to push the suit down his long, narrow legs, a fluffy tail with a white stripe down the back pops out.
Daffy stares, dumbfounded and silent.
The rabbit-tailed driver of the motorcycle throws the suit to the side and removes his baseball cap, allowing his long ears to show. He then removes his sunglasses, and throws them aside with the cap.
Not removing the scarf, he slowly turns to face the stunned duck who still sits on the motorcycle behind him.
"B-... B-Bugsth...?"
"Hello, Daffy."