The twelfth-floor corridor was deserted. This made Bugs slightly more at ease. With all the high-powered atomic weaponry they were carrying, innocent bystanders could easily get hurt.

He nodded to the others and Sylvester and Daffy drew their particle throwers.

They advanced along the corridor. It was quiet. But not for long.

A squealing, rattling sound came from behind them, and in a single movement, Daffy whirled around and fired his weapon, sending a glistening, looping coil of energy searing along the corridor. And Sylvester, reacting on reflex, sprayed his beam wildly in the same general direction.

Ion particles fizzed and crackled and the air became filled with discharged neutron energy.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Bugs shouted.

Sylvester and Daffy stopped firing. The three toons peered anxiously through the smoke at the wanton destruction they had just caused: the blackened ceiling, smoldering carpet, and charred strips of wallpaper floated down, leaving wispy trails.

On her knees and hugging the carpet, an elderly cleaning woman stuck her prune-like face around the edge of the trolley and stared at them with wrinkled eyes. The contents of the trolley had been wasted. Broken bottles of cleaning fluid spilt onto the carpet and a large pack of toilet paper was on fire.

"What the Hell are you doing?" she asked.

Shamefaced, Sylvester lowered his weapon.

"Sorry," he apologized.

"I'm sorry," Daffy repeated.

"We thought you were something else," Bugs added. He turned to his fellow Quackbusters and said, "Successful test."

"I guess so," Sylvester replied.

"I think we'd better split up," Bugs told them as he reached into his jumpsuit and pulled out a silver cigarette case.

He opened the case and pulled a carrot out of it. Then, he started holding it in his mouth like it was a cigar.

"Good idea," Daffy said. "We can do more damage that way."

Bugs and Daffy stayed on the twelfth floor and went down different halls while Sylvester decided to search the floor below.

Sylvester was taking valence readings with his PKE meter. So far there was no activity – the twin antennae were retracted, the lights dead. The Dry Gulch was bigger than he'd realized. Five minutes later he'd checked two of the main corridors and still nothing.

Meanwhile, up on the twelfth, Daffy fished into his pocket and pulled out an actual cigarette. And in the act of lighting it, his PKE meter swung clear across into the red.

In one corridor, Bugs heard crashes and advanced with a slow, careful tread, toward the disturbance.

Bugs poked his head around the corner and his expression changed from curiosity to disgusted shock. He quickly pulled back around the corner and flattened himself to the wall. He stood, almost rooted to the spot, his mouth gaping, trying to let out a "yipe", but to no avail.

He slowly peeked around the corner again and saw a big mound of red hair with a pair of eyes, and wearing tennis sneakers, standing behind a room-service trolley. It was feeding voraciously off scraps and leftovers, emptying plates into its cavernous maw of a mouth with savage gusto.

Slurp! Gulp! Gulp! Slurp!

"Daffy?" Bugs called back down the hall behind him. "Daffy!"

But Daffy wasn't there. Bugs turned his attention back to the hairy monster. The monster finished off some goulash, licked its chops, and belched contentedly.

"Ugh! Disgusting hairball," Bugs thought. He was too disgusted to be frightened now. "I'm gonna have to take him myself."

He checked his thrower and edged closer. The red beast was too busy to notice him, cramming food and drink down its gullet.

Bugs aimed his weapon and shouted, "Hey, Frankenstein!"

Bugs fired his proton pack and the monster ran off down the hall, avoiding the curling stream of phosphorescent particles, the room service cart rolling along behind the beast as if being pulled in its wake.

Bugs missed and the streak from his proton pack tore fifty feet of wallpaper in a searing ricochet.

Bugs chased the monster down the hall, and cursed as it reached the end of the corridor. But it did not turn. It ran straight through the wall, leaving a massive hole it in, smashing dishes, scattering broken wine bottles, and crashing the cart, sending food flying everywhere.

In the neighboring corridor, Daffy was leaning against the wall having a peaceful smoke. Suddenly, his PKE meter beeped to life and the needle bounced over into the red.

The sound of rattling dishes and silverware came from the far end of the hallway, accompanied by heavy footsteps. Then, out came the horrible, giant red-orange pillar of fur.

Daffy stiffened as he picked up his radio and whispered urgently into it, "Come in, Bugs."

"Daffy!" Bugs' voice crackled over the radio. "Daffy! I saw it! I saw it! I saw it!"

"It's right here, Bugs," Daffy said in a casual tone of controlled hysteria. "It's looking at me."

"He's an ugly maroon, ain't he?"

"I think he can hear you, Bugs," Daffy said nervously, backing away.

"Don't move. It won't hurt you,"

"YEEEEEEEEAAAAAHHH!" Daffy screamed as the monster came charging right at him.

The monster slammed right into Daffy, knocking him over, and kept on running.

Over the radio came a terrifying shriek that curdled the marrow in Bugs's bones. He raced around the corner and saw Daffy lying on his back in the middle of the corridor, arms and legs flailing in the air like a helpless insect, and covered in safety-orange hair.

"Aagghh... Aaaagghh... Uhh..." Daffy quivered convulsively.

"Daffy, what happened? Are you okay?"

"It shed on me... it shed on me!"

"That's great! Actual physical contact! Can you move?"

"I feel so funky," Daffy replied.

"Bugs. Bugs! Bugs, where are you?" came Sylvester's shouting over the radio. "Are you all right? Come in, please!"

"Sylvester! I'm with Daffy! The monster shed on him!"

"That's great, Bugs. Save some for me. Get down here, right now! It just went into the ballroom,"

"We'll be right there,"

Bugs rushed back to the stairway and Daffy trudged after him, leaving a trail of hair in his path.