Chapter 4: CrateHouse Crashers

It's weird to have a phonograph at the passenger seat. But it somehow makes sense when you drive for long hours.

"Ol' Benny Goodman. Give me some jam," the truck driver mutters.

With one hand on the wheel, the truck driver puts adjusts a record on it. Soon, Sing Sing Sing booms in the tobacco smoke filled air and drifts towards the open window.

"Roger! If we die, I'm going to kill ya!"

The young man… er, rabbit of a toon pays so no heed to the threat. Keeping his arms steady, Roger puts the weight of his feet to the right and the board stirs to the right.

"I think I'm getting the hang of it, Herman!"

He plunges both hands inside his overalls and begins pulling stuff out as his foot scrapes the road.

"Hold these!" he yells, throwing them up at Herman.

Herman instinctively catches a tire, a cat cradle, an armchair; a dressing room mirror and a bathroom sink before heaving them over his shoulder.

"Roger! What -"

"Ah-hah!" he thrusts up a coil of rope triumphantly before doing a cowboy's loop. He swings it over his head and throws it to the truck.

The loop catches on the door handle at the back of the truck.

"Yes!" Roger exclaims in triumph.

The truck speeds up, taking Roger, Herman and the skateboard with it.

"Nooooo!" Herman yells as Roger hangs on for dear life.

The truck makes a sharp turn to the right. Roger, Herman and the skateboard do not.

"Oof!" Roger exclaims as he dents the brick wall with one side of his body before the truck drags them off.

Their combined weight pulls the truck door open revealing an order of Acme crates. One crate falls down open, dropping its contents on the road –a crate labelled Acme Portable Holes.

"Jeepers!" Roger exclaims, steering the board left and right around the gaps as the black discs plop down the ground.

"ROGER, LOOK OOOUUT!"

Reflexively, Roger jumps up, flipping the board with him over the hole.

Before Herman can look back with fascination, he's jerk back into the present with Roger steering and doing Ollies and kickflips over the Swiss cheese road.

"Whoa!" Roger exclaims, accidentally letting go one hand.

"You are so dead, Roger!" Herman yells; his eyes widening as everything go into slow motion when Roger flips over a particularly large pit.

Still dancing with the fast jazzy beat, the truck driver's eyes wander to the side view mirror.

"Side view mirror! Side view mirror!" Herman shouts; gripping Roger's hair a little too tightly as he steers too much to the left.

Roger clenches his teeth as he puts his weight to right and the board skims to the side.

"Aaaauugghh!" Both he and Herman scream as the railing on the side of the road rushes towards them. Roger flips the board-

"ROGER-I-HATE-YOU-"

-and grinds it to the railing, their only lifeline taut between them and the truck.

"-AND-WE-ARE-NO-LONGER-FRRRIIIIIIEEEEE-"

The truck driver pauses for a moment before shrugging. For a moment, he thought he saw a noodly toon guy sailing down the road with a baby on his shoulders. The heat must be making his head funny or something. He starts shuffling his shoulders to the booming music again.

Roger drops down from the railing. Being the receiver of the slapstick comedy requires timing to be exploded, splatted and hammered –all while looking hilariously panicked and stricken. Right now, Roger has no problem with timing or looking as scared as hell.

He pulls on the taut rope and grabs further forward, pulling himself and Herman closer to the truck.

"You're lucky I'm wearing a new nappy," Herman says hoarsely, his limbs still scared stiff with an iron grip on Roger.

SCCCCCRRRRRRREEEEEEEEECCCCHHH!

The truck makes an abrupt brake when it arrives to the Disney back gates. The truck doors slam shut and Roger splats on them. Herman reaches to unloop the rope from the door handle before Roger slides down the truck in silent agony.

Herman grabs Roger's wrists and guides them to hold on the underside of the truck. Roger blearily climbs on the machine parts and Herman perches beside him. The gates open and the truck drives forward.

Both baby and rabbit-turned-humanoid take in their surroundings as best as they could from underneath the truck. The bright sunlight turns into a cool shade as the truck wheels inside one of the buildings. Whistling, the truck driver climbs out and walks away. They hear the entrance close and everything becomes dim.

Herman drops down from the truck while Roger collapses on the ground, whimpering.

"Ooohh…" he shakily turns around to lie on his back. Weakly, he watches his wrist as he wrings it.

"I can't shake it off," he says in wonder.

Herman looks around. "Duh, Roger. You're a humanoid now; we're more 'real'."

"Why are we whispering?" Roger asks, tugging his sleeve to reveal black and blue marks on his shoulder that has hit the brick wall. "Are these bruises?"

Herman looks at him impatiently, "They'll fade away in a few hours –we're not that delicate! Now hush!"

Roger shuts up, wondering how humanoids could live when he finally hears murmurs and footsteps from afar.

"Where are we?"

"A warehouse I think," Herman replies, glancing at the dim maze of crates surrounding them, "And a pretty big one, too."

"C'mon, let's get out of here!" Roger whispers, awkwardly dusting the seat of his pants when he realizes he has no tail to do it for him. "Where's the exit?"

They tried the gates where the truck has entered in but to no avail. Roger suddenly scoops him up and places him on top of the crates.

"We should get you a disguise," Roger says, looking at the boxes labelled "Disney Souvenirs."

Herman crosses his arms, scowling. "No, I don't need that shiznit."

"You are the Baby Herman, Herman," Roger points out as he bends over to one of the boxes.

Herman scowls deeper, refusing to feel flattered.

Roger turns around, holding two items. "Now choose, Mickey Mouse ears band or Goofy ears cap?"

A few minutes later, Herman trudges onward wearing Mickey Mouse Shorts, Donald Duck Sailor Shirt and a Goofy ears cap on his head.

"I feel stupid," Herman grumbles.

"You don't look so bad, Herman," Roger reassures.

"This is from a guy who wears baggy overalls," Herman growls, "I don't even want to look at myself right now." He glares at Roger. How the rabbit –er, guy- convinced him to wear something ridiculous, he'd never know.

They soon notice the subtle change in the crates as they walk further. They're now labelled Pointed Hats, Floaty Clothes, Cauldrons and Pixie Dust among other things.

"I think we're in the Magic Section of the warehouse," Herman comments, glancing at crates stamped with the word "Prison Lamps for Magical Beings".

"Well, we better hurry. I'm starting to miss my eyesight. Why is it that humans can't see in the dark?"

"Not all of us are drawn as rabbits," Herman snaps.

Just as he says that, Roger almost trips at one of the crates bearing a title of "Talking Housewares".

"Roger."

He turns to Herman who is looking around him in awe. Roger straightens up and follows his line of vision. That's when he realizes there are crates labelled "Wands" everywhere.

Herman yanks Roger's pants leg, "Why look for the Blue Fairy?" He waves his arms around, "We are in a warehouse of wands!"

"Hey you!"

They both look up to see a toon security bulldog glaring at them.

"Stop right there!" he barks, charging at them.

Roger backs away instinctively and bumps a teetering stack of wooden crates. He yelps when the stack collapses and he dodges it narrowly. A cascade of wands rolls at their feet.

Roger looks at the wands in panic. They all look rods of different shapes, sizes and colour.

"Which one do you think will change me back?"

Herman hurriedly grabs as much as he can, "I dunno! Do I look like a freakin' fairy to ya?"

"Wait, I have an idea!" he exclaims, he grabs an empty quiver and shoves the wands in it before slinging it over his shoulder.

"I said STOP!" the bulldog growls from the other side of the pile. He then lets out a long howl of Doggie Alert. Pretty soon they hear the distant barking of other toon dogs.

"Doggone it!" Herman yells as Roger scoops him up and carries him away, "Roger! Stop hopping and start running! You ain't a rabbit anymore!"

Roger hurriedly knocks on the contents of "Sorcerer's Broomsticks" as they pass by it.

"Don't say that, Heman!"