DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything from Tiny Toon Adventures, including characters, locations, references, or the Acme Warner Bros. logo. All rights go to Warner Bros. and Steven Spielberg's Amblin Entertainment.

Edited by my friend, Redtop1995. Thank you very much.

Chapter 21

Cleaning and Scheming

~Friday, Dec. 12th~

"Okay, Furrball," said Hamton, locking the house's front door. "We have three houses. I'll meet up with you at the third. You have the address and your house key?"

Furrball reached into his coat's pocket and pulled out a shining metal key wrapped around a slip of paper.

"Good," said Hamton. "Well, we better get going. It's gonna get dark soon. See you soon, Furrball. I'll tell Babs you said 'hi'."

Furrball meowed and waved goodbye, and at once, the two boys set off in opposite directions down the sidewalk, each carrying a duffel bag full of cleaning supplies.

Passing the first block and making his way through the rest of the frosted neighborhood, Hamton was smiling and humming "Happy Feet," with light dancing to boot. Never minding that he slipped on frozen snow every once and again, he kept up his rejoicing spirit. The fact that he and Fifi were going to be spending time together tomorrow — just the two of them — felt as good as an early Christmas present. It didn't matter that it was frigidly cold outside or that the sky above was a dull gray; It could've been a blazing summer afternoon given how good Hamton was feeling right now.

A couple minutes into his walk, putting both the neighborhood and country road behind him, he came to a gap in the otherwise dense barrier of snow-covered trees and entered the Acme Forest. Though it would be an hour or so more before the sun set, it was already dark here. The forest was shadowy in most places, save for a few helpful strips of sun light. The terrain was bumpy and uneven. Snow laid in large mounds all over at the bases of trees and in slivers on the million outstretched branches.

Hamton, thankfully, didn't have to trek through all of this. There was a clear trail where the snow had been flattened out due to several rabbit tracks leading both inward and outward. One set led to a clearing where Hamton caught sight of a familiar stump. A basketball hoop was tied to a nearby tree and, close by, was another with a tire swing hanging down from a thick branch, packed and covered with snow. Before walking past it, Hamton spotted a mailbox which reach "Buster Bunny."

How Buster managed to get mail delivered all the way out here where there was no road remained a mystery, but not a crucial one. This was a cartoon world after all (not everything had to be explained).

"Probably has airmail," Hamton theorized.

He pressed on, walking under a hundred bare branches and again into a shaded dense of towering trunks. There was just enough illumination through the cracks in the forest canopy for Hamton to make out the rabbit tracks leading him on to his destination.

Walking out from this shady patch, Hamton came upon another clearing silightly different from Buster's. It was surrounded by evenly spaced trees and was located atop a large hill that rolled down smoothly into Acme Acres. Looking outward, Hamton could see the towering silhouette of the school's clock tower and the tops of a few city skyscrapers. The snow around this clearing was much lower than the rest of the forest as though someone had shoveled most of it away.

Standing where he was and eyeing the rabbit tracks on the snowy ground, Hamton followed them to a small earthly mound which was surrounded by wilted flowerbeds, all blanketed in white.

His footsteps crunched in the snow as he approached, and, just as he was two feet away, he heard a lock click as though a door had just opened, though no door was visible anywhere. At that moment, a dim glow of lantern light leaked out from the rabbit hole. Next, a pair of long pink ears set with purple bows at the ends rose out. They gave a twitch, and then the rest of Babs' head and shoulders appeared.

"Hey, Hamton," she said pleasantly. "I thought I recognized your footsteps. Come on in."

She disappeared back down the way she came. Hamton approached, got down to his knees and edged over to the hole where, pressed against the frozen soil, a wooden ladder led down into a low tunnel. Hamton sucked in his gut to fit through, pulling his duffel bag along with him.

He let out a deep breath as soon as his flabby ears were under the surface. It was cold at first going down the hole, but as he descended, it got warmer. Hamton didn't understand this, seeing as there was no door to prevent heat from escaping. After a few more careful steps, he touched down onto a dirt-covered floor with his bag. Babs reached up to the hole, pushed the bottom half of the ladder upwards, then flipped a metal port hatch which covered the hole's opening. Locking the hatch with a hook, Babs then walked over towards a regular sized door. Its hinges were set into the soil and the top, sides, and bottom looked insulated.

She opened it and Hamton followed her inside. Instantly, Hamton was greeted by the wonderful cozy warmth that filled the underground home.

Hamton had only been down here a few times before in the past, when he and the rest of his friends hanged out on occasion. He was standing on a rug set at the edge of a cozy little living room. The color of brown was in every direction he looked, making all the other colors on the furniture, TV, and framed photographs stand out. The reason for the mass array of brown was due to the simple fact that the walls, floor, AND ceiling were made of dirt.

Normally, Hamton had no patience for anything dirt-related; the sight of this house would've been enough to drive away any person who believed cleanliness was next to happiness. But, in Hamton's case, Buster and Babs' homes were the exception. If one looked past all the solid dirt, the house was as homey as any home could be. And, for whatever reason, the massive amount of soil never made the house any dirtier, almost as though the dirt were drawn not to come loose (WINK).

"Nice Christmas tree, Babs," said Hamton, pointing to the pine tree standing in the corner. It was bespeeched with the traditional colored lights and silver garland, but in place of baubles or ornaments, nearly every branch was decorated with — go ahead and laugh — carrots. Hamton certainly laughed, "Beautiful and appetizing."

"Thanks," said Babs, grinning. "Yeah, all the ornaments are new. My family ate all of last years, but then again, we do every year. Makes taking it down not so sad. Anyway, this way, Hamton," and she led him into a kitchen where a tall adult rabbit in a dress and apron where standing with her back turned at a counter. "Hey, Mom. Hamton's here."

She turned, and for whatever reason, Hamton couldn't see any farther up than the top of her neck just before it met her jaw. It was as though he were looking at a photo or video where the person's head was poking out of the frame and beyond sight.

"Oh, hello, Hamton," said Babs's mother. "It's been a while since you were last here. How's Winnie and Wade?"

"Fine, Mrs. Bunny," said Hamton. "I saw my parents yesterday, actually. We had dinner, then they went off again on one of their trips," Hamton ended with a laugh.

"Oh, those two," she shook her head with amusement (at least, Hamton think she did — she certainly sounded amused). "Always one business trip after the next, like Babs' father. Anyway, " she said, walking over to another door, "I greatly appreciate your offer to clean for us, Hamton. With a family like ours, it can become a bit tough at times."

She turned the knob and pushed the door open. Hamton stepped forward to look, and gaped at what he saw.

Inside what looked to be a second larger living room, were several — maybe around 50 — rabbits, all younger than Babs, were scuttling and playing on the floor, couch, and with each other. Long ears waved and large rabbit feet padded the floor as Hamton looked from one side of the room to the next; there was very little of the floor that wasn't covered with at least one small rabbit. They seemed so preoccupied with their own actions that they didn't notice Hamton or the sound of him dropping his duffel bag in surprise.

"I've always said I have a big family, Hamton," said Babs, grinning at his surprised look.

"And having such a big family keeps me busy," said Babs mother, "especially with the holidays drawing so close. It can get so overwhelming at times, so I appreciate your job offer, Hamton."

"No problem," said Hamton, and he glanced around the room. "So . . . where would you like to me to start?"

"Hmm . . . let's see. Everyone!" she called loudly to the young rabbits. Every one of them stopped what they were doing and looked up at their mother. "The cleaner is here and needs to start on the living room. So please, all of you, head on to your rooms. None of you are to bother him while he's working, got it?"

They all nodded, and, in one quick motion of large, scurrying feet, a cloud of white dust filled the room. Hamton, Babs, and Babs's mother coughed as the cloud thinned away and showed an empty but very messy living room.

"How many rooms does your house have?" Hamton asked, wondering how on earth one hole could hold so many rabbits.

"Quite a lot," said Babs simply. "Luckily, living underground has its advantages. Very easy to tunnel in a few extra rooms if we need to, plus my Dad's job pays more than enough to buy the beds and stuff."

"Convenient," Hamton said. "So . . . what can I do for you two?"

"You can start, if you like, Hamton, with the floor," said Babs's mother.

One look and Hamton agreed it would be the best place in the room to start. It was littered with overturned toys (some broken), plus candy wrappers, batteries for the TV remote, disheveled couch and chair cushions, and, among other things, a few clumps of dirt.

"Then you can start on the walls," continued Mrs. Bunny, motioning here and there, "and readjust the frames, dust the bookshelves and place back the books that had fallen to the floor — any order will do. Oh, and Babs, dear, if it's not too much trouble, could you help Hamton push the furniture back against the walls when he's finished with the floor?"

"Sure, Mom," said Babs.

"For now, though, I want you to go and do your homework. And no calling Harriet, Shirley, Buster, or any of your other friends. Work first, fun later. Understand, Babs?" she finished in a serious tone.

"Yes, Mom . . ." Babs responded with annoyance.

"Good," she said. "Now, I'm going out to get a few things for dinner. Would you like to stay and eat with us, Hamton?"

"Thanks, but no thanks, Mrs. Bunny," said Hamton kindly. "I have to help clean another house later with a friend."

"All right. I should be back by the time you finish. Hope it's not too much trouble," she said, and with that she walked out of the living room and towards the door leading to the tunnel which housed the hole that led to the surface.

Hamton heard the door close with a light slam and turned back to glance at the floor, looking for a place to start. From the large number of toys to couch pillows to the many scattered coloring books, crayons and pencils, it looked like any place would be as good as any.

"Should I start with the toys?" he asked Babs.

"Wouldn't be a bad idea," Babs replied. "Mortimer can get very cranky when he doesn't have his coloring books and Emily's a real beast when her building blocks aren't within range."

Reaching down into his duffel bag, Hamton pulled out some plastic gloves and slipped them on.

"Is it hard having so many brothers and sisters?" Hamton asked curiously.

"Oh no, not usually," said Babs with a careless wave. "You might not believe it, Hamton, but half the time I don't even know they're here. Seriously, back when Tiny Toons was still on the air, it was like they all disappeared for a certain length of time and then just reappeared with no explanation. That's weird, even for a cartoon."

"Yeah . . . but, oh well," Hamton said with delightful shrug.

"That's my reaction, too," said Babs, smirking. "Well, I better go do my Calculations work, on a Friday," she finished with an irritated grumble.

"It's just a few word problems for Granny," said Hamton with a shrug. "You can do most of them over the weekend."

"Yeah, you're right. . . . I guess I can do at least one for tonight. I don't think Mom'll be mad about that. Just knock on my door if you need anything, Hamton." Babs turned and walked to the door that led into the hallway, but stopped just before crossing through. "Oh, and by the way, Hamton, given all the siblings I have, your head might spin at the number of doors there are in this house. Mine's the one that isn't covered by stickers, scratches, crayon drawings, or 'Proceed with Caution' branded into the wood — just so you know."

Despite the living room being so spacious, it didn't take Hamton nearly as much time to clean it as he initially thought.

After the toys, cushions, and coloring books were picked up and sorted, he organized the books back to their shelves in alphabetical order — just for the sake of being tidy. Then, with a wet rag and Acme Anti-Dust Spray, Hamton wiped down the bookshelves, the coffee table, the TV stand, and the work desk in the corner. Then, after spraying glass cleaner on the photos and TV screen, Hamton finally swept the floor. This took him the longest, as, to his surprise, there was a near inch of filth covering the dirt floor. Finally, he only had the fireplace mantle left to do, which included some small family pictures (one of them of Buster and Babs holding hands on their Prom night), a trophy with a golden carrot sticking out on top, and finally, an old antique mantel clock whose tick sounded much clearer after its face was cleaned.

Babs reappeared soon after to check on things, and together, she and Hamton pulled the furniture out from the walls so he could give the floor a quick sweeping.

The room was hardly recognizable from the state in which Hamton started. Beside the fresh scent of orange cleaner, the dirt floor actually sparked (which was strange, given that there was nothing on the floor to give off a gleam).

Babs let out a low whistle. "Nice job, Hamton."

"Oh, it wasn't too hard," he said modestly. "I'm surprised it didn't take me longer, given the size of this room. Did your mom want help with anything else?"

"No, just the living room," she said, still admiring the floor's cleanliness. "My Mom's usually too busy taking care of everyone to clean the whole place in one day, and this spot was getting particularly bad. She couldn't do it today and so, when I heard that she had to go out for groceries, I thought, 'Hey, why not call you'? So really, Hamton, you gave us a big help."

Hamton smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Babs," he said, packing away the last of his supplies and zipping up his Jumbo Storage Duffel bag. "Well, I better get going so I can meet up with Furrball. See you later, Babs, and thanks again for this job. And don't worry about the payment. You can give it when we see each other on Monday."

He gripped the handles of his hefty but light bag and was about to turn and leave when —

"Wait, Hamton," said Babs suddenly. "Do you have a couple minutes so we can talk?"

Curious, Hamton glanced over to the mantle clock he had polished. The clear glass face showed that he had at least 20 minutes before he was due to meet Furrball at the next house.

"Uh . . . sure, I guess I have time" he answered, and he joined Babs on the couch. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

Babs folded her hands on her lap and fixed Hamton with the expression one held when they were about to discuss something complex and serious.

"Hamton," said Babs, her voice kind but concerned, "have you given any thought on where you're going to go with Fifi tomorrow?"

This question was stated so remarkably simple that Hamton couldn't understand why his throat went so tight all of a sudden. He had been beaming for the last hour with dreams of holding Fifi's hand as they went about having fun. How, in that entire time, had he not stopped to consider what it was he and Fifi would do with each other?

"Hamton?" Babs asked expectantly.

"Um . . . well . . . I guess I can . . . no, wait," said Hamton, his mind fumbling with ideas that seemed to come only in fragments. He must look stupid, he thought, his eyes darting around the clean living room as though there were something that would give him a clue.

However, he could not deny the importance of the question.

Where would Fifi like to go? What did she like doing for hobbies? And now that Hamton thought of it, how would he pay for anything? He needed all the money he could save to buy Fifi her present, and he still had a long way to go. And why, why did thinking about of all this make it harder to breathe?

Babs, staring worriedly at Hamton, suggested, "The movies, maybe? Or how about the mall, or some ice cream at Frosty's?"

"Actually, Babs . . ." said Hamton, fiddling with his hands. "I think I'll just let Fifi decide where we'd go. I mean, I want her to have a good time. . . ."

"That's very considerate of you, Hamton, but remember, this date isn't just about Fifi," she said, her glance now serious. "It's also about you. Don't be surprised if Fifi asks where you would like to go, and I'm almost certain she will."

"But what if she doesn't like what I suggest?" asked Hamton, now imagining a pouty, annoyed Fifi, which made his stomach stir uncomfortably.

"Well, if I know Fifi," said Babs, smiling, "she's won't be too fussy about any place in particular, but if she seems to not like a place, she'll probably just ask if you have anywhere else in mind."

"And if I don't?" asked Hamton fretfully, and already his throat began to clog with fear that his date with Fifi was already heading towards horrific failure. "What if I do something embarrassing? What if I look stupid in front of Fifi?"

"Hamton, enough!" said Babs firmly, impatient with Hamton's self-criticism. "You are not stupid, and I can tell you, without any doubt, that Fifi doesn't think so, either. In all the time I've known her, she has always said very nice things about you."

"Really?" asked Hamton.

"Yes," said Babs honestly. "Hamton, what you're feeling is perfectly normal. First dates are always like this. I felt the same way when me and Buster first started going out. I was afraid I'd seem boring to him or that I wasn't pretty enough. Buster told me himself that he had spent half the date worrying that he might do something to embarrass himself, afraid that I'd think less of him if our date didn't go perfect."

"Did it go perfect?" asked Hamton, not imagining how it couldn't.

"No," Babs answered simply. "We had a few odd moments, and I won't lie, Buster wasn't the only one who did something crazy, but in the end, none of it was a big deal."

Hamton noticed a light blush form in Babs' white furry cheeks, looking as though the memory was both awkward and wonderful.

"But that's the whole point of first dates, Hamton," Babs continued. "You and Fifi need to spend a little time together to see if you two work well together, with both the fun and the crazy going hand-in-hand — metaphorically speaking, of course," she added on a light laugh. "Knowing the two of you, though, I'm sure you two will do fine, so don't worry, okay? Just use what you know about Fifi already and think on that."

"Hmm…" Hamton thought, his mind a little more steady after hearing Babs' words. The living room's mantle clock ticked meekly in the silence.

"Frosty's would be nice," Hamton said musingly. "Or we could go to the Olfactory Factory. I know that Fifi likes it from the last time we were at the Mall. Not to mention," Hamton blushed, "I liked the smells Fifi picked out for me."

"There you go," said Babs approvingly. "Spend a little time to think it over, Hamton. A little pre-planning never hurts, especially with first dates."

Just then, the sound of a door opening came from across the living room. Hamton and Babs looked to see that Mrs. Bunny had returned home. She was carrying a few paper bags in her arms. One, which was stuffed to the torn brim with orange carrots, completely shielded her face.

"Hamton?" she called from behind the brown bags. "You still here?"

"Yeah, right here," he said, getting off the couch and taking two of the bags from her grip. Hamton's eyes went wide as he heaved them into the kitchen — they were much heavier than they looked.

"Thank you, dear," said Mrs. Bunny, having just placed the last of her groceries onto the kitchen counter. "I hope you had no trouble with the living room."

"Oh, no, none at all," said Hamton in one quick breath, still recovering from carrying the two bags.

Mrs. Bunny walked to the living room and Hamton walked slowly behind, waiting as she assessed his cleaning.

"My…" said Mrs. Bunny, impressed. "I hardly recognize the place. Oh!" she beamed, "and you even dusted the mantle!" and she walked over to admire the dust-free surfaces and the ticking clock at the center.

"You did wonderfully, Hamton!" she said with delight. "Did you, by any chance, finding anything when you and Babs moved the furniture?"

"Actually, yeah," said Hamton, and he pointed over to the corner where a few odd items laid. "An old coloring book, a yo-yo without string, and OH! — and this. I almost forgot." Hamton reached into the pocket of his overalls. "I found these under a couch cushion. Are they yours, Babs?"

He held out his hand and showed Babs two ribbons like the ones she had tied to her ears. Unlike her favorite purple, however, these were a neon green with little red polka-dots. A closer look showed that the dots were actually hearts.

Babs let out a slight gasp. If Hamton hadn't been so close he might not have heard it.

She snatched it out of his palm and gritted her teeth. "Mortimir...," she growled with acidic annoyance.

"Oh, Babs, dear," said Mrs. Bunny, shaking her non-visible head. "You can't know it was him. Besides, you never wear those ribbons, so what's the harm?"

"The harm," said Babs shrewdly, shaking the ribbons as though they had the answer written on them, "is that Buster gave these to me!"

"But Babs, you have never worn them once," said Mrs. Bunny, sounding perplexed. "You even told me last Valentine's Day that green wasn't your style."

"That's doesn't mean they're not important . . ." she stopped as though the words snagged in her throat. She looked back down at the ribbons in her hand. "I mean, Buster gave them to me . . ."

Hamton's heart seemed to warm at the way Babs said Buster's name. But then he heard a soft, deep ticking. He turned to the fireplace mantle.

"Um, excuse me?" called Hamton, eyeing the clock. "Pardon me, ladies, but I need to go pretty soon."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Hamton!" cried Mrs. Bunny. "I almost forgot!"

Reaching into her purse slung over her shoulder, she pulled out a ten-dollar bill with a crinkled side. "Here you go, dear. One for the cleaning and a little something extra for getting under the furniture.

"Huh?" Hamton looked down the dollar in his hand. The crinkled edge, which he thought was part of the dollar, was actually part of another: a five.

"No, Mrs. Bunny," said Hamton modestly. "You don't have to pay me extra for that."

"I know I don't have to," she said kindly though resolutely. "I wish to. It's not every day you have someone willing to clean under our couch and seats, and given the size of our family, you'd be surprised what you can find under there."

Hamton smiled gratefully. "Thanks," he said, and, not daring or wanting to rebuff the generosity, he pocketed his pay. "Well, I better be going. See ya, Babs."

"Bye, Hamton," said Babs, waving as he walked off. "And don't forget: everything will go fine tomorrow. Just be yourself."

"Okay. Good night."

He climbed up the ladder through the narrow hole and reemerged into the now dark forest. Following a path of Acme Solar Powered lights, all attached to the trees, Hamton felt confident that, as nervous as he felt, he just might do well on his date as Babs assured he would.

"Bye, Parson Brown!" said Elmyra in a singsong voice, waving her newly built snowman goodbye. "Rocky-wokey says Merry Christmas!" she added, holding up her pet rock, his collar dangling in her hand.

Giggling, Elmyra skipped on down the snowy sidewalk, her snow boots kicking up snow with each step, glittering and sparkling in the bright light of the streetlights. She crossed the streets without stopping to check to see if they were clear.

With her eyes closed, she hummed merrily about a winter wonderland as cars honked, tires went rolling without their cars, and, more than once, a sheep could be heard bleating. But Elmyra didn't notice. She was too lost in her solo-caroling, skipping and adoring the feel of snowflakes falling against her face.

When she opened her eyes again, she was standing outside the towering walls of an open gate with three-foot-high green wreaths hanging at each side. She skipped forward down the long stretch of driveway towards an enormous mansion, each of its thousand windows lit. Parked near the front door, was a long limousine made of solid gold.

Inside the mansion, on the 247th floor, Montana Max was shouting.

"No, Grovely! Put present number two-thousand-and-fourteen on top of number one-thousand-five hundred-and-twelve!"

"Yes, sir," drawled the butler, standing atop a tall teetering ladder and reaching to place a fully-wrapped present atop a mountain of other presents.

"And careful not to bump my Christmas tree!" shouted Max, his malicious voice bellowing from far below. "I paid good money to have it cut and delivered from Mount McKinley."

"Yes, I know, sir" said the butler dryly. "I'm the one who cut it down."

"And you did a good job," said Max, his voice holding no kindness.

Grovely leaned forward on the ladder, was just about to lay the present atop the tower of wrapping and ribbon when . . .

"MON-NEY!" chimed the doorbell.

"Oh, what now?" shouted Montana Max, walking out of the room and bumping the ladder, ignoring the crashing sound coming from behind.

The elevator dropped to the bottom floor like a stone within seconds and Max stormed towards the front door and opened it.

"I told you Salvation Army beggars, those orphans ain't getting nothing from me!" he spat, blowing back the orange hair that stood before him.

"Hi, Monty!" said Elmyra lovingly, totally unfazed by Max's outburst, far too used to it by now.

Max's anger subsided slightly, and, in a somewhat less annoyed tone, said, "Oh, hey. What do you want?"

"I just wanted to come and see my Monty-Wonty. Look!" She pointed above the doorway.

Max looked up and saw, to his shock, a mistletoe that hadn't been hanging there before.

"Want an early Christmas present?" asked Elmyra, her tone full of sugar. She closed her eyes and puckered her lips.

Monty's annoyed frown returned and he pinched Elmyra's lips shut. "Thanks, but I think I'll wait 'til December 32nd."

He turned to walk away. Elmyra giggled at Monty's little joke and followed him inside.

She glanced around the enormous foyer: the marble stairs, the golden reflective statues of Monty lining the walls, the fountain that spewed out silver coins instead of water, and the wallpaper made entirely of paper currency, most of it green dollars.

"OOOOOOOOH!" said Elmyra. "Sparkly shiny!" She adored the reflective surfaces, laughing at how they became distorted by all the bends and curves. But then Elmyra stopped and looked puzzled. "Monty, where's your holiday decorations?"

"On every floor above your head," grumbled Monty. "I don't want my presents on the first floor where visitors might get funny ideas."

Again, Elmyra giggled. "Oh, Rocky," she said, holding up her pet rock. "Didn't I tell you he was funny? That's my Monty: rich, handsome, and a talented comedian. Triple-threat guy!"

Flattered and smug, Monty said, "Ah, it's nothing. I'm just naturally fantas…tic. Hey, wait a minute!" He turned sharply and looked back at Elmyra. "Who the heck were you talking to?"

"My new pet," said Elmyra, holding him out in her mitten. "Rocky."

Montana Max squinted at the thing in Elmyra's hand. Stepping closer, sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him, he stopped a few feet from Elmyra, who was still beaming.

"What the. . ." he said. "That thing's a rock!"

"Yeah, I know, Monty," said Elmyra, beaming. "A pet rock, to be precise. I got him just two days ago."

Monty blinked. "You wasted perfectly good money for something you could've just dug out of the ground?" he burst out, overcome at her stupidity.

"Oh, no," said Elmyra, shaking her head. "I paid to have someone do it."

This was news to Monty. He knew of Elmyra's notorious reputation for being a natural repellant for animals, and really, who could blame them? He, for one, knew how tightly Elmyra could hug.

"Who'd be desperate enough to try and find you a pet?" he asked, scowling.

"Mr. Piggy-Wiggy and the shaggy Kitty Cat Meow-Meow."

Monty blinked again. "Who?"

"Hamton and Furrball," Elmyra clarified. "I saw an ad on the school bulletin boards and they were offering to do work in exchange for money. I know they asked for only ten dollars, but I offered them fifty. I think it was a smart decision, because it only took them one day to find my cute little Rocky." Cooing, she pressed her cheek against her rock, petting him like he was a puppy.

Montana Max, meanwhile, watched the rock without seeing it. His mind had gone abuzz with wicked intent.

"So . . . Hamton and Furrball," he said, making sure he understood this. "They took the job with no complaints? They didn't stop with awkward silence and think it over?"

Elmyra stopped hugging her rock. "Hmm . . ." she said thoughtfully, "now that you mention it, they did. They didn't look too interested, but when I said I'd be willing to pay them fifty dollars, they took it. I don't really blame them. I had asked the same question to a few others before and they had just laughed —"

"So, you're saying," Monty interrupted, "that they'll be willing to do almost anything so long as the price is high?"

"I . . . guess so," said Elmyra uncertainly. "I'm not sure, but it sounds like Mr. Piggy is raising money for something."

But Monty stopped listening after 'I guess so.'

"Monty?" asked Elmyra, curious at the devious smile stretched out over his face.

He let out a light, evil laugh.

Reaching into his shirt jacket, he Monty pulled out a foot-long cell phone.

(A.N. - Ahh…technology in the 90s)

Grinning heinously, he quickly dialed a number, and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Grovely!" said Monty. "Clear my schedule for tomorrow afternoon." There was a pause. "No, I'm not going anywhere. Just planning a little entertainment here at home." He grinned evilly.

And meanwhile, as Monty became absorbed in his nefarious scheming, Elmyra stood there on the polished marble floor, watching, stroking her pet rock, wondering without a clue what Monty was planning, but admiring him as she always did, hoping determinedly that she might get her Christmas kiss another day.

$920 to go - 12 Days until Dec. 24th

All comments, positive or constructive, are welcome.