Prologue
Once, many, many Saturday mornings ago, long before Powerpuff and Johnny Bravo, before even The Smurfs were born, in an obscure region of the Hanna-Barbera cartoon world, in a Southern county near the Georgia-Florida border, there lived a little raccoon. He liked nothing more than to cause havoc, this raccoon, especially for one Buford bloodhound. But not long after the Buford Files series was cancelled, that little raccoon's mischief finally got him in over his head with the Dog of Purple.
This is that story…
The Buford FilesThe Swamp Phantom
Part 1: Donkey Ears
"C'mon, Buford" yelled Cindy Mae. "Or we'll be late for the Pinocchio play at Fenokee Theatre. "Oh yeah? Oh okay." mumbled Buford, the lavender bloodhound, as he stretched lazily out on the steps of Boggs' Landing. Woody was already in the Boggs' twins' pickup revving the engine. Both Woody and Cindy Mae had looked after the place, when old man Boggs had passed away a few years ago. The twins and Buford spent most of their time solving mysteries involving local highjackings, robberies, kidnapping, scams, and other shady activities. Cindy Mae got in and slammed shut the door. Buford gallomphed across the dusty drive and lept into the back of the pickup. Almost as soon as the three were on their way, Buford was asleep once more. As usual, Buford began to dream. His head filled with thoughts of the Pinocchio play, in the dream he became a barker for Pleasure Island. In the dream-world, Buford stood behind a reception desk, in a gloomy corridor, flanked by deep purple vellum curtains. Buford wore a deep blue frock coat, and a matching coachman's hat, much like the Pleasure Island coachman in the story. A huge banner hung overhead, advertising, in vibrant red letters:
WELCOME TO PLEASURE ISLAND! ALL RACCOONS WELCOME,ESPECIALLY THOSE WITH SMALL BLUE HEADBANDS! ALL THE SWEETCORN AND SHOO-FLY PIE YOU CAN EAT!! WREAK ALL THE HAVOC YOU WANT!! NOBODY HERE WILL STOP YOU!!!!
The other side of the circular room was hung with contrasting red vellum drapes. Someone drew these curtains apart close to the floor, and from behind them stepped Buford's longtime nemesis, the Little Raccoon." Mu-saaaw!" the Raccoon exclaimed, giving a low oriental bow. He approached the desk, and his masked face peered up at Buford. The Raccoon's eyes grew wide as he read the extravagant banner behind the desk. "Me want Pweasure Iswand!" he piped up excitedly, and began leaping up and down in front of the desk, in an effort to grab himself a ticket. Since he was too small to reach the desk, Buford reached down, and with a sneer presented the Raccoon with a red ticket with Admit One printed on it. The Raccoon's nimble fingers snatched up the ticket."Hey! Let me tear it." Buford mumbled, though he suppressed another sneer. The Raccoon's eyes were now agleam with mischief. He held out the ticket for Buford to tear, but when Buford tried to take it with his clumsy paw, a mild jolt of static, passed through him, causing his eyes to google. His head slumped on the desk. He shook his head to clear it, and then glowered at the Raccoon, who held out his hand, displaying a tiny joy-buzzer on one finger. "I shut off!" said the Raccoon quickly, as Buford began to growl at him. But as he touched a small switch on the joy buzzer, a jet of black ink squirted from it onto Buford, ruining his blue suit. G-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r- Buford began ominously, as the Raccoon fell on his belly emitting peals of shrill laughter. But then he remembered that this time he would have the last laugh, and he stopped growling and smiled wickedly. All at once, the Raccoon's small ears morphed into flaring donkey-ears. The Raccoon stopped laughing immediately. He knew something was dreadfully wrong, but he didn't know what. Buford was starring at him, starting to snicker evilly. The Raccoon began to feel up the sides of his masked face. When his fingers touched his ears, his eyes widened in shock and dismay. This soon gave way to horror, as he ran his hands up the extremities of his ears. "Bonzai!!! The Raccoon cried in terror. Buford, his face a mask of deviltry, held out a small clear vial of pink fluid, labeled antidote, tauntingly."Give me! Oh, pwease, pwease pweeeease!!! begged the Raccoon pathetically. Why don't you just steal it, you no-good pie-thief! Buford thought to himself. He snatched the vial away with an evil chuckle as the Raccoon made a flying leap for it. But even as he did so, the Raccoon's clever hands changed into hooves, which slammed clumsily against the desk. Splayed on the floor, the purple dog's evil laughter in his ears, the former Raccoon looked back to see his beautiful, banded tail shrivel into a ratty donkey's tail. Then, even his masked face became that of a donkey, and only his blue bow-knot remained to identify him. He opened his mouth to plead some more, but all that came out was a bray like a donkey. Buford grasped a golden pull-rope. At last it as pay-back time for the Raccoon.The former raccoon then noticed that he was standing directly over a trapped door. When Buford pulled the chord, he would slide down into the darkness to a barge where he would be shipped away to a hard job hauling loads somewhere. No more pranks or shoofly pie for him! But before Buford could pull it, his dream poofed out of existence. He raised his head and looked around. He was still in the back of the pickup, and the truck had stopped. But they hadn't arrived at Fenokee theatre. The were still in the swamp somewhere, and some distance away, over the side to the pickup, Buford could see the flashing blue lights of the sheriff. "Woody, it's the Sheriff!" Cindy Mae exclaimed. "Wonder what's wrong?"
"Let's check it out." said Woody.