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.
Chapter 48
The La Fumes
~Dec. 25th - 28th~
Christmas night was quiet and cold, the sky clear and the stars shined across Acme Acres in clear, sparkling specks. Colorful lights and dazzling trees were aglow around the neighborhood, and would undoubtedly stay alight until the night's end.
Hamton trekked over his snow-covered lawn and opened the Acme Fast-Travel pod. He set his new Travel Bag inside, stepped in, and closed the door, which sealed itself with a loud snap and hiss. Over a dozen locks clicked like the hatch to a submarine, then all was quiet. It felt like he was standing in a circular closet, only it was metal and had a single leather seat molded into the cylinder's middle.
Hamton took his seat and, by the interior's light, saw a set of three buttons against a computerized panel.
Launch
Return to Acme
Emergency
The electric screen beside the panel read Paris, France, along with a set of coordinates.
Trying to ignore the Emergency button and what circumstances would dignify its use, Hamton pressed Launch on a whim.
The pod whirred into life.
From out of the speaker, a voice said, "Welcome, Passenger. Please fasten your seat belt."
Hamton pulled the tight belt around his waist and snapped the buckle shut, feeling a small twinge of nervousness; he had never experienced Acme Fast-Travel before.
"Seat belt applied," the voice confirmed. "Thank you for choosing Acme Fast-Travel: your ten second ticket to any destination worldwide. Your flight will commence shortly. Please have all luggage stored away in the compartment beneath the seat and keep your feet planted firmly on the ground. Please remain as still as possible during travel. If, for any reason, your travel pod sputters, disassembles in midflight, or starts hurtling towards Earth in a flaming ball of death, immediately press the Emergency button — if you can. Do not unbuckle your seat belt until the pod lands. If you have any questions, please address all letters, comments, complaints, lawsuits or fan mail to Acme Fast-Travel, 957 Acme Transport Inc., Acme Acres, California, zip code 00000. We hope you enjoy your flight."
No sooner had this message finished, a number of beeps sounded and the screen showed a global map with a dotted arrow, leading from California to Europe.
"Nonstop to Paris, France, initiated. T-minus and counting.
"10."
As the voice counted down, the pod started to vibrate. Hamton quickly stuffed his Travel Bag in the compartment under his seat.
"6."
The pod was shaking even worse; a group of thrusters had ignited.
"3."
Hamton gulped and gripped the armrests tightly. For a second, he thought of bailing, but remembered that Fifi was waiting for him at the end. Her beautiful face filled his mind, and at once he was calm.
"0."
And, before he realized, the pod had shot into the air like a bullet.
Hamton felt the force of the pod's inertia push into him. His back was pressed so hard against the leather seat he thought he was going to merge with it. He tried to glance out the window, but this proved pointless. He was traveling so fast that everything outside was nothing more than a dark multi-colored blur.
Ten seconds into his turbo-charged adventure, Hamton felt the pressure of the pod decrease and it started to lose height. Trying not to panic, he gripped the sides of his seat, telling himself with no real confidence that this was to be expected.
"Oh, man!" he muttered. "If Buster hates flying in planes, he'll die if he ever tries this!"
A few seconds into the fast drop, the pod seemed to freeze in midair as though it had been caught by an invisible hand. Hamton then felt the pod give one last little drop, and a hard bump jostled him beneath his seat.
"Must've been air-breaks," he thought, smiling at the merciful beauty of cartoon physics.
A bright beam of light shined through the window, the only source of light in the otherwise shadowed tube.
Before Hamton could look out the window to see where he landed, the voice from the speaker spoke again.
"Destination — Paris, France — has been reached. It is now safe to remove your seatbelt. Please remove your luggage and carefully exit the pod. Then, kindly, press the Return to Acme button and close the door shut. Thank you for choosing Acme Fast-Travel. Enjoy your day and, as always, your destination."
Hamton, a little dizzy and his legs a bit wobbly, stood up from his seat, grabbed hold of his Travel Bag, and twisted the door's metal handle. A burst of crisp, chilly air hit Hamton's face and flowed over his entire body, but he felt perfectly warm, thanks to his coat and the gloves Furrball had given him. Having warm hands made a huge difference.
With a heave, he pushed the door open.
He squinted through the brightness, his eyes watering slightly. He stepped onto what felt like a cold, snow-covered sidewalk. As his vision cleared, he saw a lamppost, then a few cars driving by. If Hamton didn't know any better, he would've thought he was still in Acme Acres.
But as his vision cleared, he knew this wasn't the case. The sky above wasn't dark or filled with stars. It was a faint blue. An early dawn.
Then there came the buildings, silhouetted and unfamiliar. There was a number of houses around him. He was standing in a neat little neighborhood, separate from the large cluster of buildings off in the distance.
And then, looking beyond the houses, Hamton saw something that made it dead-obvious that this could only be Paris. An all-to-familiar, A-shaped metal spire standing tall, dark, but strikingly clear in the distance.
The Eiffel Tower.
Convinced, Hamton reached inside the Fast-Travel pod and pressed the Return to Acme button.
The moment the pod started to rumble, however, Hamton wished he had waited before making this choice.
Glancing around, he couldn't see Fifi anywhere. And, now that he thought of it, he had absolutely no idea where she and her family lived, or even if they resided in this neighborhood.
He watched the pod's fiery thrusters power up, and, unable to do anything or think of what to do, Hamton watched it shoot back up into the sky, feeling the draft from the take-off as it disappeared into the faint blue, leaving Hamton on the outskirts of an enormous city with no idea where to go.
His hand on his Acme Travel Bag's handle, Hamton glanced down both sides of the slightly slanting street, unsure of what to do. He could try finding someone and ask for directions, but this, he remembered again, was France, and English might not be very common in this part of Paris. What was more, would anyone even know Fifi La Fume? As wonderful as she was, and despite being a famous cartoon actress, Fifi lived a normal life now. Tiny Toons Adventures had been off the air for two years, and most people hardly talked about it anymore.
But before Hamton could take a step in either direction, someone grabbed him from behind.
He let out a very loud gasp, certain he was being ambushed and about to be mugged. But the arms around him were soft and purple, and, the next moment, Hamton felt over a dozen kisses peck his face.
"You came!" cried a delightful voice.
"Fifi!" gasped Hamton, his heart racing at his girlfriend's sudden appearance.
"Oh, I am so sorry! I completely forgot to include ze address in my letter! I hope you were not scared. I live right here, Hamton."
She turned him to the house he had kept his back to. It wasn't a mansion. It wasn't a shack. It was a neat two-story house, not that different from Pepe Le Pew's back in Acme Acres. A green wreath hung from the rosewood front door, a Christmas tree twinkled in the large window, and the entire right side of the house was covered in ivy which gave the place a stylish, elegant décor.
"Welcome to Paris, mon amor," Fifi said tenderly, kissing the side of Hamton's lips. "Come. My family is so excited!"
Giggling, she pulled Hamton by the hand; he had gone lightheaded at the feel of Fifi's lips. She led him across the clear concrete walkway, up the stone stoop and through the front door.
The house was wonderfully warm. As Hamton removed his coat and gloves, he heard a radio off in the distance speaking in French, giving what sounded like a news report.
"Maman!" called Fifi, walking down the hall. "Papa! Hamton is here!"
Hamton slowly followed after Fifi, taking the chance to glance around the neat interior. It wasn't very different from his own home. Varying photographs were mounted on the walls. A carpet covered the staircase off to the side, leading to the second floor. To the left was a living room and down the hall was what looked like the linoleum floors of a kitchen.
Hamton walked into the living room. The room was fitted with a couch, a loveseat, and a recliner. A TV stood beside a large bookshelf, neighboring the Christmas tree. Over on the fireplace mantle, there stood a large portrait of four skunks. Hamton stepped closer to examine it, savoring the log fire's warmth.
Fifi was instantly recognizable. Beside her was a younger skunk with pink fur. Standing over them were a male skunk with a professional appearance and a female skunk with a beautiful, calm face, reminding Hamton very much of Fifi.
"Excusez moi?" came a young voice.
Hamton spun around to a desk he had not seen when he entered. Sitting in the chair was the same small pink skunk in the photograph, looking at Hamton in curiosity. She was dressed in a yellow sweater and a light blue skirt. Her hair was pearly pink and streaked with white, a lighter color than her fur, and was tied back in a ponytail with a big purple bow. Her tail was just as huge and fluffy as her older sister's.
"Oh, hello," said Hamton, trying to sound friendly through his surprise.
"Bonjour," said the little skunk girl, her accent very much like Fifi's. "You are Hamton, non?"
"Yeah, I am. And you must be. . ."
"Gigi!" she cried happily, leaping out of the chair and curtsying. "Gigi La Fume, ze cuter of ze two."
Hamton grinned lightly.
Gigi started to walk around Hamton as though she were inspecting every detail, from his flabby pig ears to his pig toes on the polished wood floor. "My sister would not stop talking about you," she said, and to Hamton amusement, Gigi actually wiggled her eyebrows. Then, in an imitation of Fifi, she started to swoon, "Oh, my beautiful golden-hearted boy! He has taken my heart and set it adrift to Heaven! Oh, I am so soppy, I can barley control my bout of cheesy French phrases!"
Hamton laughed; he couldn't help it. Along with being funny, Gigi really was quite adorable in the way she batted her eyelashes and giggled at the end of each joke.
"Oh, I have searched for so long!" Gigi continued. "But he has been in front of me all along. He, my one and only —"
"Gigi!"
She and Hamton both turned. Fifi was standing in the doorway, looking very annoyed.
She stepped up to her little sister, her eyes steely and firm. "Gigi, I understand you like meeting new people, but I would appreciate it if you act mature in ze company of guests, especially when zat guest is my boyfriend! I swear," she said heatedly, "if you act uncouth —"
"I am not being uncouth!" Gigi retorted, glaring up at her sister. It was remarkable how they mirrored each other. "I was just talking to him! Am I not allowed to talk?"
"Of course you can talk to him," said Fifi, exasperated. "Just make sure you watch what you say! Nothing embarrassing!"
"Embarrassing?" snapped Gigi. "You mean like you?" Gigi did a pirouette and again started speaking in a mock impression. "Oh, my delectable garçon. I will snuggle you with my proud, perky chest until you faint, zat is if my smell does not do it first."
Hamton felt his face go red. Fifi looked appalled, her furry white cheeks burning. She gritted her teeth in anger, but then raised her voice to a squeaky tone, much like Gigi's. "Ah, my cute leettle Jeromé."
Gigi froze, wide-eyed.
"Oh, Jeromé, of course I will rub noses with you. Here, let us do it in public!"
Hamton, feeling a tad awkward now, looked from Fifi to Gigi. Fifi was apparently rubbing noses with an invisible person while Gigi ground her teeth. She looked as though she were about to retort when —
"GIRLS!"
A woman's voice broke the air, and at once, Fifi's and Gigi's bickering attitudes vanished as though they had both been slapped. Hamton turned. A skunk, around the same height as Hamton's mother, walked in and stared disapprovingly at her two daughters. Her fur was purple just like Fifi's, only a tint lighter. Her eyes were a bright, silvery gray, and her hair fell lankily down her shoulders.
"How DARE you both act so childishly!" she snapped, in a tone that frightened even Hamton. "We do NOT fight! Especially not when guests are around! I swear, if you two do not behave —" She then broke into a string of very angry French. Whatever it was she said, Fifi and Gigi both looked appalled. "Do you understand?" she asked firmly.
"Yes, maman!" the two sisters said at once. At their answer, their mother's aggression melted away instantly.
"We are sorry, Hamton," Fifi apologized. "Zat was very rude of us."
"Oui," nodded Gigi. "I am sorry."
"I-It's okay," he said. "I'm not offended. I hear this sort of thing is common when you have siblings."
He turned to Fifi's mother, who was looking at him with delighted intrigue.
"Oh, sorry!" said Fifi, clearing her throat. "Hamton, zis is my mother."
Hamton stepped forward and held out his hand. "Hamton Pig. Nice to meet you."
"Celestine La Fume," she stated, beaming, and took Hamton's hand to shake it. "It is a true honor to meet you! I must be honest, I feared zat Fifi would never find a darling boy to call her own!"
"Maman!" squealed Fifi indignantly. Gigi gave a light snicker.
But Celestine ignored her daughter's outcry. "And what a charming young man you are. I must admit, I was tad taken aback when Fifi told us zat you were not . . . not . . ."
Mrs. La Fume looked uncomfortable. Hamton was sure she was about to say 'skunk.'
"Maman!" Fifi said resolutely, and she walked over to stand beside Hamton. "I have told you, it does not matter what Hamton is!"
"I know zat, dear," she said calmly and politely. "Of course, it is all right. My apologies."
"Good," said Fifi firmly, linking her arms with Hamton's. "Because I love Hamton just as he is! It was my pathetic fixation on finding a skunk zat kept me from having a boyfriend for so many years. Well, who needs zat now? I have Hamton, and he is all I want and need!"
Hamton felt his whole body warm him in a way the fireplace wasn't. He saw Celestine smile proudly at her daughter's dedication.
"You know, he is a cute piggy," Gigi commented, grinning. "Not as cute as Jeromé, but still, quite cute."
Fifi smirked. "Merci, Gigi." Then she called out, "Papa! Come here, s'il vous plaît!"
Hamton turned toward the door, expecting to see another skunk walk through the living room's doorway. But a few moments passed with no answer.
"Adrien!" called Mrs. La Fume. "Fifi's boyfriend is here! Come and see him!"
Hamton heard footsteps. Someone was coming down the stairs.
And then he saw him: Fifi's father.
He was slim, but with a firm posture. His fur was dark gray, minus the white stripe that ran down his tail. He wore a white dress shirt with a black tie and matching dress pants. His eyes were the exact same shade of violet as Fifi's, and his face was calm, though Hamton sensed a steel edge to his character.
"Ah, Papa!" said Fifi, who walked up to him and gave him a hug, which he returned with equal warmth. "Hamton," she said, "zis is my father. Papa," she turned to him, "meet my darling boy."
"Hello," said Hamton with a friendly wave. "Hamton Pig, sir."
Mr. La Fume did not say anything, but continued to look at Hamton firmly.
Hamton swallowed silently, trying his best to look as appealing as possible.
His face rigid, eyes set and unblinking, Mr. La Fume stepped forward towards Hamton.
Hamton's heart started to pound hard. Fifi looked a little nervous. Gigi took a few steps back and stopped behind her mother. But Celestine stepped in front of her husband, and he stopped momentarily.
"Adrien!" said Mrs. La Fume critically. "Be nice! Remember, we both wanted to meet him."
Hamton could clearly see that Adrien took his wife's strict words to heart. He had looked slightly nervous when Mrs. La Fume had raised her voice and his expression calmed at her reminder.
His face a little less forceful, but still quite stern, he stepped forward and stopped in front of Hamton. Hamton, feeling touched by Mrs. La Fume's defense, stood where he was and smiled kindly at the male skunk. He knew he wouldn't get a second chance at this first impression; He needed to please Fifi's father. How many boyfriends must've faced this very situation? Now it was Hamton's turn. . . .
"So. . ." said Mr. La Fume. His English was a LOT clearer than his wife's and childrens'. "You are Fifi's boyfriend?"
"Yes," said Hamton confidently. "I am."
It happened before Hamton had a chance to gasp.
He was lifted off his feet, and, the next moment . . . was pulled into a tight hug.
"Merci!" Mr. La Fume cried merrily. "Merci! I have waited for this moment for so long! You cannot know how wonderful it is to meet you!"
Hamton, startled by Mr. La Fume's sudden change in attitude, looked from Fifi, to Gigi, to Celestine, who looked at startled as he, but then beamed with joy.
"Oh, I could kiss you!" Mr. La Fume declared.
Hamton's eyes went wide.
"Oh! But I will not." He chuckled. "Sorry."
He let Hamton down and, instead of kissing him (thankfully), he shook his hand very vigorously. "Adrien La Fume, my good pig."
"H-H-Hamton P-Pig," Hamton repeated, his voice shaking as Mr. La Fume continued to shake his hand until Fifi stepped in and steadied her father's arm.
"How about some breakfast, Papa?" she suggested. "We can all talk and get to know Hamton better."
"Splendid idea, sweetie," Mr. La Fume said happily.
"Would you like some help?" Hamton asked.
"Oh, no, son," said Mr. La Fume. "A guest should not —"
"Oh, Papa!" said Fifi. "Do let Hamton help. He is excellent in ze kitchen! You should see ze cakes he makes!"
At this, Mr. La Fume consented.
The kitchen was well-spaced, with all the usual tools and a table for four, plus an extra that was brought in advance. Hamton cracked eggs and Mr. La Fume worked in the frying pan beside him, frying bacon.
Hamton felt the usual twinge of discomfort he always got whenever someone cooked something with pork, but, as usual, it came and went quickly. Out of the corner of his eyes, the three La Fume ladies blanched at the sight of Mr. La Fume's actions. He and Mrs. La Fume whispered a very quick discussion, the wife sounding deeply annoyed, her husband looking suddenly sheepish.
"It's okay," Hamton spoke up. "I don't mind others eating bacon, so long as you don't insist that I eat some."
With that, the two adults looked a lot more at ease.
Along with the eggs and bacon, Hamton also put down some toast and Fifi simmered a pot of tea.
"So, Hamton," said Mrs. La Fume, "is zis your first time in Paris?"
"Yes," said Hamton, stirring the eggs with the metal turner. "I don't get to travel much. That's usually my parents' job."
"Your parents?" asked Gigi.
"Yeah, they work for the Travel Bureau in Acme Acres. They make brochures. My father takes the photographs and my mother does the writing."
This was the first of many questions that both parents and Gigi asked Hamton. From what he could tell, they thought he was fairly interesting, regardless that his life was, when it came down to it, rather simple. Along with telling them about his own life, Hamton also gained several insights into Fifi's family.
Mr. La Fume worked as an instructor at the local Paris University and taught both History and English as a second language, which explained his clearer English accent.
"That must be a huge job" Hamton commented. "I mean, speaking two languages AND two subjects?"
"It can be quite much some days," Mr. La Fume agreed, holding a cup of tea. "But so long as I pass satisfying knowledge onto a new generation, I feel I do my job well."
"He does excellently," said Mrs. La Fume, and the two shared a fond look.
Gigi, sitting very close to Hamton, whispered, "Papa does his job VERY well. You should see how easy it is to fall asleep in history."
"I heard that, Gigi," said Mr. La Fume, still smiling at his wife.
Halfway through breakfast, Mrs. La Fume had her turn.
"Accounting?" asked Hamton. "Do you enjoy it?"
"Oh, it is well enough," shrugged Mrs. La Fume, buttering her toast. "But it would be too much if it was all I did."
"You have another job, too?" asked Hamton, impressed.
"Oui," said Fifi, beaming. "Maman works as a dance instructor."
"Dance?"
"Oui," said Gigi, and she jumped off her chair, still holding her fork. "Ballet." And she spun on her tip toe in perfect form. She had clearly done this several times before.
"Impressive," said Hamton. Gigi beamed at him.
"Indeed," said Fifi, rolling her eyes. "Gigi has been taking lessons since she was five."
"Have you ever taken ballet, Fifi?" asked Hamton. "I mean, I know Shirley does it, but —"
Gigi let out a huge laugh. "Fifi? Ballet?" She laughed even harder.
Fifi glared grumpily at her.
"Now, Gigi," said Mrs. La Fume disapprovingly, "be polite."
"I am just answering Hamton's question, Maman" she said, taking her seat beside him again and leaning close to him. "She has, how you Americans say, two left shoes?"
"It is two left feet!" Fifi snapped, gritting her teeth.
"Girls. . ." Mrs. La Fume said in a dark tone.
"Sorry," they both said at the same time. Clearly, they knew when to take their mother's warnings seriously.
Hamton smirked. "Ballet's nice, but you should hear Fifi sing. She sings 'Habanera' wonderfully."
"Oh, but we have heard Fifi sing 'Habanera'," Mr. La Fume commented. "Pepe Le Pew sent us a recording of the Talent Show at the beginning of the month." He patted her daughter's hand. "Your voice can match Carman's, my dear."
Hamton saw Fifi's smile faulter a little. He thought he knew why, remembering what Fifi had told them on Christmas Eve: the best night of his entire life.
But Fifi knew her father meant well by his reply and said, "Merci."
"Now," said Hamton, "how about you, Gigi? What do you like to do?"
Absolutely delighted to be asked this, Gigi gulped down her tea and started to talk without cease.
From what Hamton heard in her fast talking (her English heavy with her natural French accent), he learned that, along with ballet, Gigi had several interests. Being a young and rather adventurous twelve-year-old, Gigi's hobbies mixed between hanging out with her school friends, playing competitive tennis, and even enjoying old episodes of — surprise, surprise — Tiny Toon Adventures.
"Ze French version is a bit choppy with ze dubbed dialogue," she commented. "I enjoy it best in English."
Going on from that, Hamton did note how Gigi had a bit of a Babs/Plucky wit about her.
She giggled. "Remember, Fifi, how you used to confuse Furrball and Calamity for skunks, even zhough it was, how you say, painfully obvious?"
Fifi flushed. "I did not confuse zem as skunks, leettle sister," she said steadily, but with a rigid edge to her voice. "I was acting. I was pretending zey were skunks for ze humor of ze audience. Tiny Toon Adventures was all about comedy — at least, most of ze time," she added. "Some episodes, zhough, were serious, taken right out of moments from our lives." She beamed over at Hamton, "Like our Prom night."
Hamton, Fifi, and Gigi helped clean up after breakfast, washing the dishes. Mr. and Mrs. La Fume then discussed with Hamton where he was going to be staying during his time in Paris.
"We booked you for a hotel not too far from here," said Mrs. La Fume. "Should be comfortable for you, we hope."
"I hope you two didn't go to too much trouble," said Hamton, flattered by how generous Fifi's parents were being, but also worried that he might cause them a bit of unexpected hustle, given that it was the day right after Christmas.
"Oh, no trouble at all," said Mrs. La Fume with a light laugh, looking through a stack of papers and charts.
"Besides," said Mr. La Fume, buttoning a portfolio, "it will only be for a few days. We have scheduled Acme Fast-Travel to take both you and Fifi back to the United States on New Year's Day. So, all is taken care of. You do not need to worry."
"I'm not worried," said Hamton. "It's just, I hope your not —"
"Oh, Fifi said you were considerate," sighed Mrs. La Fume, shaking her head. "She told us how you helped a homeless friend, giving him shelter from ze cold."
For perhaps the tenth time that morning, Hamton felt his cheeks go red, this time from how tender and fond Fifi's parents and their daughters were looking at him.
"Speaking of Furrball," said Fifi, "is he still at your house, Hamton?"
"Yeah, I'm letting him have the house to himself while I'm gone. It's perfectly fine. Plus, I think he'll have our friends over for company. They should have fun since I left him most of the money I made while trying to buy you your gift."
"Oh, zat is sweet," said Fifi, smiling as she stacked the plates back in the cupboard.
"Gift?" repeated Gigi. "What gift?"
Fifi grinned slyly. "Excusez moi, everyone. I will go get it."
Fifi gave Hamton a wink as she walked out of the kitchen and, from the sound of her steps, sprinted up the stairs.
"What did you get her?" asked Gigi.
Hamton paused. Mr. and Mrs. La Fume were looking at him with equal interest.
Fifi didn't tell them? Should he? Would they believe him?
But before Hamton could open his mouth to explain, Fifi reappeared in the kitchen, both hands behind her back.
"Hamton gave me zis for Christmas." She showed the folded, single page letter. It had been placed inside a transparent protective sleeve.
She handed it to her father, who was closest. He read the letter aloud in very clear English.
"With all the love in my heart, Hamton," Adrien said, reading the last lines.
He looked fondly at Hamton. Mrs. La Fume was smiling, her eyes wet. Gigi looked amazed.
"You tried to buy Fifi a bottle of Du Coeur?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"Yeah," said Hamton, grinning sheepishly. "But, I kind of slipped at the end."
"Oh, but you tried," said Mrs. La Fume. "You must have dug through ze earth to collect all zat money. Even for ze rich, zat perfume is a debt bringer."
Hamton smirked at Fifi, who giggled lightly.
"What?" asked Gigi, looking from Hamton to her sister.
"Hamton did more zan try," Fifi told them. "He succeeded." And, smirking, she brought her other hand around front and showed her family the purple crystal bottle with the golden cap. It shined in the kitchen like a glass prism.
Gigi's jaw nearly fell off. Mr. La Fume dropped his portfolio. Mrs. La Fume's neatly sorted documents and charts slipped from her hands and scattered across the floor.
"Y-You," spluttered Mr. La Fume, looking from the perfume bottle and back to Hamton.
Fifi handed the Du Coeur to Gigi, who stared at it, transfixed with shock as though she were staring at someone's severed hand.
"How on earth!" cried Mrs. La Fume. She couldn't believe her eyes.
"I have more," Hamton added, and then, without thinking, he reached into his Travel Bag. He pulled his Acme Duffel Bag out from the huge space, and, unzipping it, pulled out the wooden crate marked:
Fragile – Shamel
Du Coeur
Mr. La Fume's gray fur when white. Mrs. La Fume fainted. And Gigi, in a move that would've earned her an instant A+ in Wildtakes, let her jaw fall three feet and hit the floor.
"Mrs. La Fume? Mrs. La Fume!" Hamton cried. "Are you okay?"
Stirring groggily in her husband's arms, she murmured, "Oui. I . . . I theenk so. But —" She stared again at the box full of purple perfume bottles. "Hamton, my dear, how on earth did you get all of zat? You must have sold your house to possess half of zhose bottles!"
"Actually, I would like to know all zat myself," said Fifi. "Hamton, mon amor? How about you tell us how you went about to get zis, from ze beginning?"
"Okay," said Hamton, laughing a little at the baffled looks on Fifi's parents.
They went to the living room. Fifi sat next to Hamton on the loveseat, Gigi sat on the armrest closest to him, and the two adults dropped onto the couch.
Hamton explained how he first heard about the perfume after the Talent Show on December 1st. After learning of the outlandish price, he went into quick detail of all the jobs he took to raise the money. Fifi smiled fondly and somewhat sadly at hearing of how far Hamton had been willing to go, but her parents were touched.
When Hamton explained the jobs he took to gain five-hundred dollars from Montana Max, Gigi and Mr. and Mrs. La Fume turned pale, stunned.
They cheered when he told them how he met his goal of one-thousand five-hundred dollars. They sympathized when his goal was shattered. And they cheered for both him and Fifi when they kissed, as well as when they heard of Monty's deep drop into debt.
"Serves that buck-toothed boor right!" Gigi declared. "I never liked him!"
"And very poor accounting on his part!" said Mrs. La Fume, shaking her head. "Raising ze price zat high . . . how could he expect to make a profit, no matter where it was sold?"
"He did it to spite Hamton, from what I understood," said Mr. La Fume, holding up Fifi's bottle of Du Coeur. "Wealthy people, more than any others I have seen, have a large sense of pride. As for Montana Max. . . ."
The adults and youngest daughter went into a vast discussion, commenting on certain parts of Hamton's holiday mission.
Hamton felt strange retelling all these events. After all he had done this past month, he could hardly believe he had actually managed it all. It felt as though it should've taken much longer — a year, perhaps more. Twenty-five days ago, he was in his bedroom, planning how to raise money. And now here he was, in Paris, France, sitting in Fifi's family home, Fifi leaning against him, her hand in his.
"It's been quite a month," he sighed happily.
Together with Fifi and her family, Hamton walked to the nearby hotel where he was booked to stay for his five-day visit. It was a comfortable place, with a soft bed and a window that offered a fine view of the city at night.
Nighttime was the only time of day Hamton stayed in his room, simply to sleep. He spent every available moment with Fifi, and she with him.
They spent the rest of the 26th exploring Fifi's childhood neighborhood. There was a small park nearby, currently covered in snow. Fifi 'le sighed' several times, reminiscing the days when she wore a larger bow in her hair and giggled every time she hopped on the swing set.
Mr. and Mrs. La Fume, who both had to work during the day, invited Hamton to have breakfast and dinner with them and their daughters. Their friendly charm around him did not lessen as the days went on. On the contrary, they were positively eager to have him around like he was a famous celebrity: all because he was dating their daughter.
During the day, Fifi and Gigi both took the liberty of giving Hamton a grand tour of Paris.
On Saturday the 27th, the three of them explored the city. Walking amongst the crowd where Hamton barely understood a word, he was given many raised eyebrows (whether for being a pig or a Toon, he couldn't tell), and occasionally smelled a bit more cigarette smoke than he would've expected.
Though many people back in America often view Paris as a grand place of grandeur, after Saturday was finished, Hamton had a more defined point of view. The city was certainly marvelous; it had several grand sights and was definitely worth a visit. But, if Hamton was honest, at the end of the day, it was a city much like any other. A good city, but still a city.
But to Hamton, his main interest in Paris was Fifi, and it was her company that he treasured out of everything he saw.
Being pulled on the hand by Gigi, Hamton was shown the sights. They started with the most common and well-known landmarks, like the Arc de Triomphe (a war memorial erected by Napoleon), the Eiffel Tower (once almost a giant radio antenna), and the Louvre art museum (which was neighbored by a large glass pyramid).
"Not many religious people like zat," said Gigi, pointing at the large glass pyramid.
"Religious people don't?" asked Hamton, an eyebrow raised.
"Oui," replied Gigi. "I do not know why, but I think it has to do with ze glass. . . ."
Fifi's father, who was really into photography, allowed Fifi to use his best 35 mm. camera during their sightseeing. Dressed in her new red scarf with the white hearts, she and Hamton posed outside many of the landmarks. And, thanks to the unique Acme Insto-Print feature, they were able to view their photographs in seconds.
"Awwww, how cute," Gigi crooned at the pictures with Fifi kissing Hamton's cheek and Hamton blushing while underneath the iron frame of the Eiffel tower.
"Ah, merci, Gigi," said Fifi kindly.
"I was talking about Hamton," Gigi added.
"Oh, why do I even bother!" Fifi exclaimed, shaking her head, though a second later she and Gigi both shared a friendly smirk.
Having packed the photo album Santa Claus gave him, and deciding to put it to good use (as Santa predicted), Hamton filled up the first few pages with photos of him, Fifi, and Gigi: the first one taken by the stone fence right outside the La Fume's home.
They ate their lunches together inside cafés, taking in the warm smell of roasted coffee and their delectable sandwiches.
"You should see Paris in ze summer, Hamton," said Fifi, sipping a hot brown cappuccino. "Lunches would be heaven under ze canopies."
"I bet they would," said Hamton, eating a croissant. "But still, Paris looks beautiful in winter."
Hamton commented on this several times during his walks with Fifi and Gigi. Walking past the snow-covered trees, seeing people dressed in different styles of coats and winterwear, the lights hanging from the trees, the frosted glint of the Eiffel Tower, and the walk down the partially frozen river around Notre Dame Cathedral, gave Paris that kind of glamorous painted feel many people dream about.
The other attractions, such as The Palais Garnier opera house and the Pont Alexandre III Bridge held their own splendor too beautiful for Hamton to describe, but still the best part of it all was his time with Fifi and Gigi.
On Sunday the 28th, Hamton joined Fifi and her family for a day of fun.
Fifi's father had as much a love for photography as Hamton's own father. He, Hamton and Fifi sat on the couch, looking over a newly printed book with all of Mr. La Fume's latest work.
"It took me a while," said the older skunk, "but they finally gave me permission to photograph in Notre Dame's higher rafters."
At around lunchtime, Gigi's sweetheart, Jeromé, stopped by. He was a young poodle boy with a kind face, little English knowledge, and uncontrollable, naturally curly hair.
After exchanging a peck on the cheek, Gigi introduced him to Hamton and Fifi.
"We met during ze fall, and since zen we have, how you say, fallen for each other," said Gigi.
"But does he not mind your steenk?" Fifi asked curiously.
"Oh, non, of course not!" said Gigi. "Ze ozher boys ran, but not Jeromé. He does not mind at all, and guess why."
Jermoé raised his finger to his black nose and said, "Pas d'odeur."
Fifi's eyebrows rose.
"What?" asked Hamton. "What did he say?"
"He has no sense of smell," answered Fifi.
"Really?" asked Hamton, surprised. "He can't smell anything?"
"Non, not a theeng," said Gigi, half-heartedly. "He can still taste, but cannot smell his own feet. But," Gigi added on a brighter note, "I guess zat makes me lucky. I found a nice boy who does not mind my smell. Kind of like how Fifi found you."
Hamton blushed. "It's never really bothered me, to be honest." Again, he felt Fifi take hold of his hand and found her large fluffy tail wrapped around him like a hug. Really, he never got enough of its silky texture. "One question, though. Was he born without a sense of smell?"
"Oh, non," said Gigi. "It happened when he was leetle. His father is a chemist, and one day he was working with iodine, and Jeromé was curious. He took too big a sniff, and ze rest is, how you say, history."
"Oh," Hamton said, not knowing what to say. "Sorry to hear that."
Jemoré shrugged, then took Gigi's hands. From the looks of it, of how things had turned out for him, he didn't seem to mind the accident at all.
After Jemoré went home, Mrs. La Fume and Gigi put on a show for Hamton by demonstrating their dance skills. Dressed in leotards and with Fifi playing on the harp, they performed ballet steps, poses, and leaps that Hamton could never, EVER dream of doing.
"I'd probably pull my ham strings," said Hamton, after Gigi suggested showing him how to do a long stretch. "What? What's so funny?" he asked, when they all started laughing. "Oh, I get it. . . ."
But the most significant event took place after dinner.
Happily and eagerly, Hamton and Fifi put together five ramekins of chocolate soufflé and served them with French vanilla ice cream. Dressed in aprons, they sat beside each other as they and the La Fumes devoured their dessert.
"Remember?" asked Fifi tenderly.
"Yeah," said Hamton blushing. "I do." That time in Frosty's Ice Cream Parlor seemed to float through time into the present, making the chocolate taste so much better than usual.
"You are as skilled as Fifi, Hamton," complimented Mrs. La Fume, dropping her spoon into the empty ceramic dish. "It takes someone with true fondness to bake chocolate. Trust me. I speak from experience."
Hamton blushed again. It was no secret anymore of where Fifi had inherited her gift for flattery.
Gigi, who had finished scooping the last of her melting ice cream, said, "Very good. Your chocolate smelt much better zan ze Du Coeur."
"Pardon, Gigi?" Mr. La Fume asked, pausing from sipping his tea.
"Ze Du Coeur, Papa," she said again. "It smells like chocolate."
Mr. La Fume choked a little on his drink. Mrs. La Fume stared at Gigi as though her pearly pink fur had turned plaid.
"What?" asked Gigi, confused. "It does. Fifi, you know it does, non?"
"Oui," Fifi said, nodding. "Wait here."
Fifi returned from her bedroom with the bright bottle of Du Coeur perfume. She pulled off the gold cap and handed it to her mother, who sniffed it.
"Sacré bleu!" cried Mrs. La Fume. "It does!"
She shoved it into her husband's hands and he sniffed the top as well.
"Well, I would never —!" he said, laughing and shaking his head at the crystal bottle. "No wonder they made a law forbidding people to talk about it in public! You could buy this scent in any candy store!"
"Oh, it is not only chocolate, Adrien," said Mrs. La Fume. "It takes several ingredients to make one bottle of zis, and so much time as well. Zat would explain why Shamel only sells perfume like zis once every year. As much money goes into making it as it does to afford it, and honestly, it makes one wonder what all ze fuss is about. I mean, thousands of euros, spent on one leettle bottle."
"Plus, Hamton got all of his for free!" piped up Gigi. "How many did you get, Hamton?"
"Hmm. . ." Hamton thought. "Gosh. If we include the one Fifi has, along with all the bottles in the crate, I must have around twenty-one copies."
Gigi laughed, then turned to Fifi. "Congratulations! You will be smelling like a chocolate skunk for ze rest of your life!"
Half annoyed, half amused, Fifi replied, "One will be enough for me. Besides, I already have ze best thing zat has ever happened to me," and she leaned in on Hamton, nuzzling his cheek. "By ze way, Hamton. . ." Fifi pulled away, and asked, "What are you planning to do with all of zat perfume?"
"You know," Mrs. La Fume cut in, "I have been wondering zat, too. Hamton? May I make a suggestion?"
"Sure."
"Well. . ." Mrs. La Fume folded her hands and took on the appearance of one who was about to make a business deal. "If it would be to your liking, I know some people who would be more zan happy to make a purchase."
Hamton stared. "You mean buy the perfume? Won't we get into trouble with Shamel if we do that?"
"Oh, non, non," she said, smiling. "Zat perfume is yours, or, rather it was zat horrible Montana Max's before he left it behind. It would only be a problem if we claimed ze Du Coeur were your own product, but zat is not likely, especially as Shamel's name is printed on ze label. And, seeing as ze perfume's branch has been discontinued until furzher notice, all thanks to zat nasty rich boy, you may find zat people will be up to grabbing if it is at a more reasonable price. Or razher," she emphasized, "a price zey can choose."
"Oh, okay," said Hamton, more relieved. "What kind of people are you thinking?"
Mrs. La Fume smiled brightly.
All comments are welcome.