A Bad Case Of Sniffles
One fine morning in the Warner Bros. Tune world, Sylvester the Cat was cooking up another grand scheme to catch innocent little Tweety Bird. This time he had come up with something that couldn't possibly miss. Earlier that day, dear old Granny told them both she'd be going out for the day for grocery shopping. She promised to get Tweety a whole keg of birdseed, and Sylvester some nice fresh sardines, if only they promised not to get into any mischief while she was out.
"Now you mind yourselves, boys." She told them both sweetly. "be sure to behave, especially you, Sylvester. I don't want you trying to eat that poor defenseless bird again."
"Oh, not to worry, Gwanny," answered Tweety. "We'll behave. Won't we Puddy Tat?"
Sylvester gave her a big, phony grin, and a small, shining halo appeared over his head.
"See that you mean it!" Granny said to him severely. "I don't want my sweet little birdie getting hurt. Now, ta-ta, boys!" she called, her voice saccharine once more. "See you this evening!"
The moment she closed the door Sylvester's grin turned sly and evil-looking as he turned to gaze wickedly up at Tweety Bird's cage.
"Now remember what Gwanny said, Puddy Tat." Tweety told Sylvester. "You aren't to huwt the nice widdle birdie, remember?"
"Yeah, but unlucky for you, I've got a thshort memory!" Sylvester replied nastily, as he crept toward Tweety's cage.
Then he realized something. Sylvester looked down to discover that his feet were stuck to flypaper. In fact, the whole of the living room was carpeted with fly paper within three yards of Tweety's cage.
Granny opened the door, and called to him. "So, couldn't leave that innocent little bird alone for one second could you? Well, this time I covered the room with flypaper!"
She shut the door again. Sylvester peeled the sticky paper off his feet, crying "YEE-OUCH!" as the fur on the soles of his feet pulled loose. Then he ran to the window. This time, he saw granny get in the car and leave for real this time. He then turned to glare furiously up at Tweety.
"Actuawy, the fwypaper was my idea, Puddy Tat." Tweety explained. "Pwetty neat, huh?"
"Ha ha ha!" said Sylvester, sarcastically. "Think you're pretty thsmart, don't ya, squab? Well, say your prayers!" He turned and dashed into the basement.
For a few moments, Tweety heard the sound of hammering and sawing coming from down the stairs.
"Hmmmmmmm." Tweety thought aloud. "I wonder what that mean 'ol Puddy Tat's up to this time? D'ya 'spose he's reawy turned over a bwand new leaf, and gotten himself a hobby? Nah!"
A moment later, Sylvester reappeared carrying two long poles. One of these had a small flat platform attached. This one he placed upright on the floor. Then the twirled a long piece of string above his head, and let it fly. The end of it took hold of Tweety's gilded cage. Then he shimmied up the pole to the platform with the other pole.. He tied his end of the string to the platform and pulled
it taut. Then, using the other pole for balance, he began to make his way across the room on the taut string, inching precariously toward Tweety Bird's cage like a tight-rope walker. But at the moment when he was almost across, and ready to pounce, Tweety produced a large, shiny pair of scissors.
Sylvester gapped, then shook his head vigorously in a futile gesture of protest.
Tweety nodded vigorously in answer. Then he snapped the taut string.
Sylvester seized hold of the string as it broke, and swung down to smack loudly into the wall, cracking the plaster. He shook his head to clear it. "Ha! I still didn't get any more of that flypaper on me!" But then fell smack onto a trampoline, and bounced off to land smack in the middle of the flypaper.
Fro another five minutes, he yowled and cursed as he peeled off the sticky sheets. By the time he was finished, his fur was checkered with large, rectangular, hairless patches.
"What you gonna try next, Puddy Tat?" Tweety inquired.
"You'll see!" said Sylvester.
"You be careful, Puddy Tat!" Tweety warned. "One of these times, you won't be so wucky!"
But when he entered the kitchen, Sylvester grinned to himself. "Hmmmmm. So the little squab's worried about me, is he? That gives me an idea!"
Quickly, he ran down to the basement, and got some chemicals. Grinning, he mixed them together, and then poured in some nitroglycerin. There was a loud boom. He then hid under the kitchen table.
"What's going on in there, Puddy Tat?" Tweety cried, alarmed.
"Tweety! Help!" cried Sylvester. "I've had an accident! Quick! Call the ambulance!"
At that moment, unknown to both combatants, a small, cute mouse appeared in a small mouse hole on the other side of the kitchen. This wasn't an ordinary, run-of-the-mill cartoon rodent, either. He was wide-eyed, innocent looking, and wore shoes, pants, a shirt and scarf, not to mention a flat little blue hat. His name was Sniffles, and he had never appeared with other WB stars in the original cartoons, though sometimes he did in fanfics like this one. He was here because he'd heard form other mice that this house had a huge larder stuffed with cheese-- cheddar, mozzarella, Swiss, you name it. Beside him was a little inch worm who wore a worried expression, and small spectacles. He was known merely as "the Bookworm". He had appeared once in a Sniffles cartoon, and they had been fast friends ever since.
"Golly, look at this biiiiiiiiiig kitchen," Sniffles said to the Bookworm. Then he sighted a large wedge of Swiss on the kitchen table.
"Ohboyohboyohboy!" cried Sniffles "See? I told you they had cheese here! Lots and lots of it, too! Yum!"
The Bookworm, who had noticed Sylvester crouching slyly under the table, tapped Sniffles' shoulder and pointed.
Sniffles started. "Oh gosh! A cat! Yipe!"
Just then, Tweety Bird flew in the kitchen door. "Alright Puddy tat! Where are you?"
"Over here, by the phone!" Sylvester called.
Tweety lighted on the table. "Hmmm. Now where do you suppose that mean bad 'ol, Puddy Tat has got to?"
Sniffles, meanwhile scampered across the kitchen floor and crawled up the plaid table cloth and onto the table. He arrived just in time to see Sylvester's clawed hands reaching stealthily over the ends of the table preparing to sieze Tweety.
"Gosh!" cried Sniffles, forgetting all about the luscious cheese. He flung himself forward, slamming hard into Tweety, knocking him clean off the table in flurry of twirling yellow feathers. Tweety, minute wings spiraling, caught himself in midair. "Hey, who did that—"
Then he gasped as he saw what had happened. Sylvester, now standing up was clutching Sniffles and grinning nastily at him.
"Yikes!" cried Tweety. He zipped out of the kitchen in a flurry of feathers.
"Hello, Mr. Cat." Said Sniffles, in polite innocence.
Sylvester held his captive out in front of him to get a clearer look. His smile vanished. This wasn't Tweety Bird!
"Thsuffern' Thsucotash!" cried Sylvester. "You're not Tweety! You're some thieving no-good little rodent! How'd you get in here?!"
"I walked. There's a hole leading right into the kitchen, and I got in through there. I heard that there's some cheese here. Some really, really good cheese! And I found some right here on the kitchen table. I think it's Swiss, is it really Swiss, Mr. Cat? I really love Swiss, but I really love all kinds of cheese. I'm a mouse, that's how come I love cheese, 'cause mice really love cheese, I know I do. Do you really have more cheese here, Mr. Cat? Do you?"
"Thsuffn" Thsucotash!" Sylvester lisped. "What a little blabber-mouse! Well, I may not have gotten Tweety this time, but a mouse is a mouse! And since I'm a cat, I might as well do my job! And we all know a cat's job is to keep this house free of annoying little rodents!"
Sylvester put on a checkered apron and chef's hat. He tied his small captives hands behind him, and placed Sniffles on a thick slice of pumpernickel bread. He used a ginsu knife to slice up some thin sheets of of the Swiss cheese, which he laid on top of the squirming Sniffles. He chopped up some crispy lettuce and juicy tomatoes, and placed these on top. Then he slathered Sniffles with Miracle Whip, and placed another fat slice of pumpernickel on top, squeezing it all togather
"There!" Sylvester declared, rubbed his paws together as he greedily slurped his chops. "Perfect!"
"You're going to try to eat me, aren't Mr. Cat?" Sniffles asked. "I know, because cats eat mice that's what they do. Do you really want to eat me, Mr. Cat? Really, really?"
"You bet I do!" Sylvester sneered. "Thsay your prayers, miserable rodent! It's a down the hatch with you!" He grabbed the sandwich and opened wide, prepared to bite Sniffles in two.
"No! Wait!" cried Sniffles. " You can't eat me, not yet!"
"Oh, Pul-ease! And why can't I?"
"Because….because…..I'll give you indigestion, that's why! You shouldn't eat food with hot sauce, Mr. Cat! It'll give you indigestion, really it will! It'll make you feel just awful, really, really awful! If you want to eat me, you really shouldn't eat me with all that hot sauce, Mr. Cat, really!"
"Ha!" sneered Sylvester. "I don't remember putting any hot sauce on you!"
"Oh Yeah?" cried Tweety. "Well, whatdaya call this, Puddy Tat!" He had flown back in the kitchen when Sylvester had been preoccupied with Sniffles, and taken a squirt bottle of Mexican hot sauce from the cabinet. Sniffles had seen him, but Sylvester hadn't.
In a flash, Tweety squeezed the bottle causing a sizzling jet to soak Sylvester square in the face.
"YEEOW!" cried Sylvester. He inadvertently swallowed a mouthful of the hot, spicy substance, and his face turned cherry-red.
Tweety snatched Sniffles out of the sandwich, and flew up and away out of the kitchen, as Sylvester rushed for the rushed to the sink, turned on the facet and gulped the cold water, until his color returned and leaned against the counter panting.
"Whew!" said Sniffles, now safely inside Tweety's cage. "Thanks for getting me out of there!"
"Nah, it was nothing!" replied Tweety. "You're the one saved me from that bad 'ol Puddy Tat, first!"
"Well, I just couldn't let that mean 'ol Puddy tat get you! But all I wanted was some of that nice Swiss cheese!"
They turned to see Sylvester shaking his fist at them from the kitchen entrance. "I'll get you two! Just you wait!" Then he turned and ran for the basement. Tweety and Sniffles waited a while, but Sylvester didn't reappear.
"Gee, ya think that mean 'ol cat's still around?" Sniffles asked.
"Oh, if I know that puddy tat, I bet he's up to something!" Tweety answered.
"But at least he's out of the kitchen! Do you think you could fly me back to the kitchen for some that really wonderful cheese? That's what I really want, that great-smelling cheese! You don't mind if I have some of that cheese do you?"
"Well, I guess it's all right if I tell Gwanny you're my guest! C'mon! I'll keep an eye out for that bad 'ol puddy tat!" he flew Sniffles back to the kitchen, and landed him on the table in form of the huge slice of Swiss.
"Wow!" exclaimed Sniffles "That really is a big wedge of Swiss cheese, really and truly!" He closed his eyes, leaned forward, and twitched his little black-tipped nose, drinking in the rich, cheesy aroma. "Gosh sakes! Got any more cheese around here?"
"As a matter of fact, we do!" answered Tweety. He flew over to the refrigerator, and pulled it open, pulling with his feet, and fluttering his tiny wings. He then pulled open a drawer, which revealed a huge stash of all sorts of cheeses. Tweety grasped one large wedge, and flew it over to the table. He placed it right in front of Sniffles.
"Golly, this is sharp cheddar, right?" said Sniffles. (sniff, sniff) "It smells like sharp cheddar, I know what sharp cheddar smells like, it smells great, but it tastes even better! Is it sharp cheddar? I just luuuuuv sharp cheddar! Do you love sharp cheddar? Oh, I forgot, you're a bird, and birds don't like cheese, do they? What do birds like? What will you eat, if you don't like cheese?"
"Oh, I'll have some of Gwanny's special seedcakes! Plenty of vitamins!" He flew to the cabinet where Granny kept the birdseed and flew back with one of the seedcakes.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" exclaimed Sniffles. "The Bookworm! He came here with me, I was going to show him where we could get tons of great cheese, but he's a worm, and worms don't like cheese either! What do worms eat? I don't know what worms eat. But birds eat worms, don't they? Will you promise not to eat him if I show him to you? Will you?"
"Hey, pipe down already!" said Tweety. "We saved each other, so if he's a friend of yours I won't eat him! So where is he?"
"He's—"
But neither of them had a chance to notice that Sylvester was creeping up on them again. In the next instant he had seized both of them in each paw.
He looked hungrily from Tweety to Sniffles and back, slurping his chops.
But he hadn't noticed Sniffles snatch something off the table to conceal it behind his back in the fleeting instant before he was snatched.
"What ya goin' to do with us now, Puddy tat?" Tweety asked.
"Take a wild guess, squab!" chortled Sylvester.
"You really can't eat us, Mr. Cat," said Sniffles, "not yet you can't. You forgot something really important, really really important!"
"Oh, yeah? And what, pray tell, might that chance to be?"
"Pepper!" piped Sniffles, thrusting up a fat pepper shaker from behind his back. It was actually too big for it to have been hidden behind his back, but in a cartoon that didn't really matter. Sylvester went deathly pale, as the little mouse began shaking it vigorously onto his face. "You never, never eat mice and birds without a nice pepper shower, Mr. Cat! It gives them that super-spicy taste! A sandwich just isn't a sandwich without the tangy zip of pepper!"
Sylvester's eyes bulged helplessly as gust after gust of pepper showered onto his face.
"AH-AH-AH-AH-CHOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The tremendous sneeze blew Sylvester clean across the kitchen to smack jarringly hard into the wall, once again sending out a series of jagged cracks in the plaster.
He shook his head vigorously. Once he cleared it, he saw Tweety and Sniffles scramble down the tablecloth and flit across the floor to vanish within the mouse hole where Sniffles had first entered the kitchen.
"Why, you—" Sylvester started. He rushed for the hole and rammed one paw into it, groping around.
"Where are you miserable little twerps?" he lisped, as he felt around the inside of the mouse hole.
Tweety and Sniffles were both a safe distance away, staring wide-eyed at Sylvester's groping paw.
Then Sniffles noticed the Bookworm. He was cowering in the corner, just as he had been ever since he saw the cat about to grab Tweety. Sniffles walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. The bookworm looked relieved when he saw the both of them, but hid his eyes again, once he saw Slyvester's paw.
"Er, I have an idea." Said Tweety. He pointed to a large object in the corner, and whispered into Sniffles' large left ear. Sniffles nodded approvingly, then whispered the idea to the bookworm, again pointing toward the object.
The Bookworm looked from the object to Sniffles and then to the cat's grasping paw. He looked uncertain at first. But then, summoning the courage, the Bookwrom inched his way over to the object, which happened to be a hammer, lifted it as best he could, then inched over to where he could position it for a blow right above the cat's paw.
Both Tweety and Sniffles shut their eyes, and stuffed their fingers in their ears.
The Bookworm squeezed shut his eyes, and slammed down the hammer as hard as he could.
Sylvester let loose with a yowl of pain as he shot into the air to ram into the ceiling. Then he crashed back to slam hard onto the linoleum floor, releasing a shower of plaster. He looked at his hand which was bright red, and pulsing wildly.
"Sylvester!" cried a voice. Sylvester immediately recognized it as Granny's. He straightened up and hid his hand behind his back, flashing her another phony grin.
"Why, Sylvester! Just look at you! All this loose plaster on the floor! And the mess in the living room! You've been trying to catch that poor, innocent little birdie again, haven't you?"
Sylvester quickly shook his head.
"Don't let him weasel his way out of this one Gwanny!" said Tweety's voice.
Granny looked down and saw Tweety, Sniffles, and the Bookworm standing there on the floor in front of the mousehole.
"Oh my!" Granny cried. "A mouse!"
"Don't worry, Gwanny! He saved me from the bad 'ol Puddy Tat!"
Granny scooped them all off the floor and placed them on the table. "Why don't you tell me all about it."
Tweety and Sniffles told them everything, though of course, the Bookworm never spoke. Granny was so overjoyed that she proclaimed Sniffles hero of the day, and baked him a huge cheesecake that evening. As Sniffles was joyously stuffing his gullet, Tweety turned to the audience, and said, "Well, I guess that's the only way to get him to shut up!"
That's All Folks!