(Author's Note: I published a previous version of this story under my real name, Donald Speirs, in 1996. That version can be found on the TTA Fanfic Mirror site - but don't try using the e-mail address there to contact me - it went dormant about a decade ago. And remember... be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it...)

Bad Hare Day

A Tiny Toon Adventures Story

Based on "Tiny Toon Adventures",

Characters Created by Tom Ruegger

Television Show Developed and Produced by Steven Spielberg

All Character (c) Warner Brother Animation / Amblin Television

CHAPTER ONE

Our story opens on the cafeteria at Acme Loo, with lunch in full swing. At one table, Buster, Plucky, Hamton and the boys are again having another rousing round of "Will Dizzy Eat It?"

Buster holds up a dripping sack with flies buzzing around it. "Behold. Here in my hand I hold the scraping from the floor of the library screening rooms from the last two years." He waves the sack around, flinging drops of liquid onto the table in front of him. Drops that hit the table start eating away the surface in a cloud of fumes. A fork and spoon, seeing the approaching rain of doom, run screaming from the table. "And of course, the big question we all want to know is..."

The guys all chime in. "Will Dizzy eat it!"

Buster smiles and tosses the bag into the air, directly above a smiling and confident Dizzy. The young Devil looks up, judges the trajectory carefully, and leaps into the air, catching the bag at the apex of its arc. Dizzy lands easily, pirouettes once and swallows the bag with a single loud gulp. The guys start to cheer Dizzy, who beams back at them with a toothy grin. "Yummy. Dizzy love popcorn!"

The ladies table across the cafeteria is full with the usual suspects. Mary Melody and Sweetie have their books open, discussing the day's physics assignment (Effects on the trajectory of pies by filling which flew farther - lemon meringue or coconut custard). Babs wanders up with her lunch, followed by Fifi and Shirley.

The young loon looks over at the guys. "Like, that is so totally grody. I mean, like, where does Buster come up with junk like that, Babs?"

"Beats me. It hasta be a guy thing, I figure."

Fifi looks over slyly at her friends. "Oui, but then, they are better at some guy things then others, no?"

"Like, I'm sure, Fifi. I mean, come on. That kind of stuff is rough on the doo, ya know."

Awww, mon petite loon, just because your hair eez not so stunningly gorgeous as moi, vous must work harder at it than moi. Moi eez tres understanding and tres sympathetique."

Babs shakes her head. "Come on, Fifi, Shirley's got a point. Longer hair styles are a lot of trouble to take care of. Just ask Mary, she's a runner and she keeps it short for that reason. Right, Mary?"

Mary thinks about this for a second, seriously weighing the issue as only a teenage female can truly do. "No, I just think it looks better short on me. Personally, though, I agree with you about long hair."

Fifi looks daggers at Babs. "Well, moi does not think that vous should have an opinion, Babs. After all, vous has no hair at all, just a little short pink fur on top. Nothing to be styled, teased, or curled into the tres magnifique work of art that moi has."

The table goes silent as everyone looks at Babs, sensing the change in temperature. Babs herself reaches quickly for a witty comeback. "Well, of course I don't have hair, I am a hare!" The laughter around the table sounds as forced as Babs' reply.

Shirley, sensing the change in the shared karma at the table, moves to prevent anything worse from happening. "Well, like, Babs, I need help on my film study. Come on and, like, give me a hand in the library finding this old junk?"

Babs nods, grateful for the excuse. "See ya later."

As they head down the corridors toward the library, Shirley gliding and Babs walking beside her, the atmosphere is tense. Shirley decides she can't be silent anymore. "Like, your aura is reflecting some, like, mondo heavy conflict, Babs. I mean, it's like, green, and making it cold in here. You aren't, like, letting her get to you with that stuff?"

"I know, it's stupid. But I am jealous sometimes. I mean, when you want, you can change your hair and that changes how you feel sometimes. Me, all I have are these ears, and they sometimes have a life of their own, it seems..."

"Whoa, chill out the major negatory vibes, there, Babs. You are who you are, or some junk like that. Like, don't sweat your differences, they make you Babs." Shirley stops for a second. "Like, wow, I sound like I'm channeling June Cleaver or something."

"Look, Shirl, I know you mean well. But I can't help wishing I had some sort of hair. I mean, look at all the fun I miss out on...flipping my hair oh so seductively at Buster, spending hours in the beauty parlor with you and Fifi, things like that."

Shirley glances up at Babs. "Ohmigosh, you have got to be kidding. I do not spend HOURS in beauty parlors, Babs. And you are just fine as you are. Now let's get over to the library and to study, or something like that." Shirley increases her speed, forcing Babs to run to keep up.

The pair continue on into the library and move into a projection booth. They proceed to view a number of old cartoon shorts of Petunia Pig and Daisy Duck. Shirley has an upcoming oral exam on female sidekicks, and isn't quite sure yet which character she is going to use as her case study.

After about an hour, Shirley turns to Babs. "I need to stretch my aura a bit. Like, will you stay here and hold this room for me? I'll try to be back quickly."

"No problem, Shirl. I think I'd like to stay here and think for a while. Not that I'm hiding from anyone, you understand."

Shirley nods and smiles, then floats out of the room.

Alone at last with her thoughts, Babs sighs. "As much as I hate to admit it, Fifi is right. I am jealous of her and Shirley and all the others with hair. Heck, even Sweetie has hair! Oh, the heck with it, I probably would look dorky with hair anyway. But sometimes I just wish I could have the chance to know that for myself."

As these thoughts cross her mind, the screen in the room starts to fluoresce with a strange greenish glow. Babs stops thinking as she grows aware of the glow and does the first thing she can think of...she ducks behind the first row of seats. She cautiously peers over the chairs, ears behind her, and sees a whirling green cloud, the size of a quarter, in the middle of the movie screen. The cloud appears to be growing in size as it moves closer toward her like a cheesy 3-D movie effect. Babs cowers down as the cloud hovers above, quickly growing both in size and intensity. The cloud started to coalesce into something, and as it does so, it's color deepens, becoming darker, and redder, until, with a bright, red, soundless flash, the cloud disappears. In its place is a 7-foot tall, red, hairy creature wearing tennis shoes, a pair of strap-on wings held on with what appeared to be bandoliers, and a flickering neon tiara, floating about 5 feet above Babs' head. The creature sees Babs and smiles.

Babs takes all this in and decides to do something eminently logical. She faints.

The shock from the icewater quickly changes Babs' state from one of blissful unconsciousness to one of total wakefulness. A slightly detached part of her mind notes the presence of her hairy companion as her altitude quickly increases, propelled by the large volume of air she exhales as she screams from the shock in defiance of gravity. Gravity decides it doesn't like being defied, as that sets a bad example for the others, and rapidly reasserts itself, bringing our screaming heroine quickly to earth. Before she has a chance to be turned into a pretty pink smear on the ground, the creature reaches out its arms and catches Babs.

Babs, seeing her savior again, opens her mouth to scream again. This time, however, the scream never escapes, as a large hairy paw covers her mouth. The creature looks into her eyes.

"Is that all really necessary?"

Babs stared at the creature. The last thing she expected was a cultured Oxfordian accent. Her brows furrowed from the confusion.

"I say, miss. You summoned me, and thus my existence. Now, we can continue this screaming and yelling and thrashing about, like a bunch of silly people, or we can get about down to business. The choice is yours. Now, please nod if you understood this."

Nod.

"Righto. My, but your voice is piercing. I will remove my hand from your mouth if you give me your word that you will not scream, screech or make any other horrible noise. Will you promise me that?"

Nod. Nod.

The creature removes his hand from Babs' mouth, and then sets her gently down. Babs backs up two steps, and carefully looks her companion over.

"You say I summoned you? Who are you? For that matter, what are you?"

The creature smiles at the predictability of the questions. "Yes, you summoned me. I am known by many names, but you may call me Gossamer-"

"Gossamer? GOSSAMER?" Babs starts giggling uncontrollably, rolling on the floor. Tears are streaming from her eyes. "A 7-foot hairy thing named Gossamer?"

Gossamer sighs, a heavy rolling sigh that bespeaks years of seeing this type of reaction. He waits patiently while Babs laughs, occasionally rolling his eyes heavenward. Finally, his patience starting to wear just a little thin, he speaks. "Alright, you have had your laugh, miss. Shall we get down to business?"

Babs, the occasional giggle still bubbling out of her, sits up and looks up at her new companion. "OK, I'll bite. Why are you here?"

"Simple. I am your Hairy Godfather."

"My what?"

"Your Hairy Godfather. Simply put, you wished to know what it was like to have hair, and I am here to grant your wish."

"You mean, like a genie or something?"

"Well, err, I suppose that is one way of putting it. Simply put, I am here to grant you some wishes, but they can only affect you, and they all have to do with hair."

"Well isn't that special. Come on, be honest, this is a joke, right? Buster and Plucky set you up to this, didn't they? Well I'm not biting. So why don't you just take your wings and things and just leave." Babs turns and starts angrily toward the screening room door.

Gossamer sighs again, and follows her, his wings fluttering lightly to propel him down the aisle. "No, Miss Barbara Anne Bunny, I am sorry, but your youthful companions did not 'put me up to this' as it were. You did, and I cannot leave until my mission is fulfilled. Union rules and all that."

Babs comes to a quick stop and turns, her eyes narrowing as she looks at Gossamer. "I did not put you up to this. And don't you ever call me that."

At this point, Babs hears a door open, and a familiar voice behind her.

"Hiya Babsie, who ya talking to?"

Babs whirls on Buster, her anger building. "You! It's all your fault! What's the big idea sending this... this... thing to tease me?"

"What thing?"

"This big hairy creature floating on wings behind me!" She points over her shoulder.

Buster squints as he looks hard where she is pointing. All he sees is an ordinary cartoon screening room. Maybe a little bit cleaner than ordinary, since this is the room he cleaned out for today's "Will Dizzy Eat It" segment, but otherwise, with no distinguishing features.

"Umm, Babsie, are you feeling alright?"

Babs starts yelling at Buster, her voice getting more strident with every syllable. "Don't play that game with me, Buster! Next you'll tell me I'm imagining things."

Buster backs away slowly in the face of Hurricane Babs. "Look, I don't see anything. And I didn't come here to argue with you. I don't know what has you worked up into a lather, Babs, but I wish you'd rope it in. I'll catch you later." The door slams behind Buster as he quickly beats feet from the projection room.

From his vantage point, Gossamer sighs. "I do so hate it when I see hares falling out like that, don't you?"

Babs cringes and draws a paw over her face. "Alright, enough already. Why couldn't Buster see you?"

"Because, my dear Miss Bunny, I am not here for him, I am here for you. It is your wishes, not his. He will never hear me or see me...nor will any of your other friends, I daresay."

"So if I mention you to anyone, like I did with Buster..."

"Yes, they will think you are a flaming loony toon. So sorry, but it is one of the rules."

"Uhhh, Gossamer"

"Yes, Miss Bunny?"

"I already am a toon."

"Uhhh...yes, quite. Well, anyway, be that as it may, I have to ask...what kind of hair would you like?"

Babs wanders over and sits down in a front row seat, her arms behind her head. "Hold on a minute there, mister. You said wishes, plural. What are you holding back on me?"

Again, Gossamer sighs and shrugs. "I am not holding out on you, so to speak. Another of the rules is that I cannot reveal any answers to you without you asking a direct question. If you do not ask, and thus do not discover the limits on your gift here, no additional levels on the gift will be revealed to you. That I have already revealed the multiplicity of your wishes to be granted makes it probable I will be punished when I return from this assignment."

"Punished? By who?"

"The union. The Amalgamation of Fairies, Witches and Things That Go Bump In The Night, Local 422. A bit of a stickler when it comes to the rules, but they do have an outstanding benefits package."

Babs rolls her eyes. "OK, so let me see if I understand. You are my fairy godfather? Sheesh. Now, I get some undetermined number of wishes, at least more than one, and they have to do with hair?"

"In the vernacular, I believe the answer is, quote, you've got it right, sister, unquote."

Babs looks up at Gossamer. "And how many wishes do I get, tall red and fuzzy?"

"Three, to be exact."

Babs gets up and starts pacing. We can see the wheels turning in her mind, as the typical cartoon convention balloon appears over her head, showing three gears turning. She is muttering to herself, "Three wishes about hair? How useless can you get? Still, it would give me a chance to see how the other half lives, so to speak. And maybe I can turn the tables on Fifi just once. Maybe I can make some of the boys have their jaws drop when walk by. Maybe..."

As Babs muses on these thoughts, the gear balloon above her grows, each thought adding an additional cog. Gossamer, fascinated by this, floats over to the balloon to examine this phenomenon. However, he gets too close, and his fur gets caught in the gears. After a brief, valiant and yet fruitless struggle, the gears drag him in, spinning him round and round, until he gets spit out and impacts against the rear wall, looking like, well, a chewed up 7-foot tall red monster. He slides slowly down the wall into a red furry heap and utters a single syllable.

"Ouch."

"...and maybe Buster would learn not to take me for granted anymore. Alright, I'll try it. Come on, Gossamer, let's get moving here, I've got to go get ready for the new me." Babs starts to exit, grabbing a handful of Gossamer as she goes by and dragging him out behind her. The door slams shut behind Babs, catching a chunk of Gossamer's hair in it. We hear a ripping sound, followed by a loud scream of agony as we fade to black.