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 49

The Two Couples

~Dec. 29th~

A month ago, Hamton never would've imagined he would go over mountains and under seas to buy a single bottle of French perfume. But on Monday the 29th, his surprise reached a whole new height to eclipse all boundaries of Cartoon Physics.

Along with Fifi and Gigi, Hamton followed Mrs. La Fume to an auction house early that afternoon and, upon entering, nearly dropped his duffel bag full of Du Coeur.

The place was bustling and bursting with rows of people, some in chairs, others standing and talking with eager anticipation.

Mrs. La Fume had said a couple of wealthy clients whom she accounted for might be interested in buying Hamton's leftover Du Coeur. At first, he thought it would only be around five individuals. But, from the from the massive crowd and the number of seats, the news that someone had bottles of Du Coeur available for sale had snowballed quite greatly in a short time.

The variety was quite colorful, too. There were people dressed in bright fur coats and wearing gemstone pendants on silver necklaces. People with hairstyles in the shapes of ropes and people in finely pressed suits. There was even a news crew nearby.

"Sacré bleu!" Fifi, exclaimed turning from corner to packed corner. "Zis is more zan I expected!"

"And so soon!" said Hamton, surprised by the turnout. "Mrs. La Fume, is it normal for auctions to form this quickly?"

"It is when zhere is something rare for sale," she answered, beaming. "And your Du Coeur is exactly zat. My guess is zat my clients told some of zheir friends. But," she smiled encouragingly, "ze more ze merrier. Come, dear, I will show you where you need to be. Fifi, please take Gigi and find your seats. Zhey are in ze front row."

Mrs. La Fume led Hamton by the shoulder past the crowd. From the sounds of the many languages, France wasn't the only nation in attendance here.

Hamton and Celestine walked up a small set of stairs, onto the wood stage, and past the curtain. Here, Mrs. La Fume shook hands with a man whom Hamton guessed would be conducting the auction.

"Good afternoon, Madame," he said with a fine English accent. "And you must be Mr. Hamton Pig?"

"Yes, sir," said Hamton. "I am."

"I trust you have the merchandise ready?"

"Right here." Hamton zipped open his duffel bag and reached both arms into its deep depths. With a slight strain, he carefully pulled out the large crate.

"Magnificent!" the auctioneer cried. "You are in for one healthy payday, my good man."

Hamton smiled lightly, not having any clue how much money would be earned.

A quarter of an hour later, the auction house calmed and people started taking their seats. From where they sat at the aisle's corner, Fifi and Gigi heard a News reporter begin a live broadcast.

"Greetings from Paris, France" said the reporter in French. "We report to you live from the Drouot Auction House where people from all corners of Europe and beyond have gathered for a most interesting bid. Five days ago, on Christmas Eve, Shamel, the world-famous manufacturer of beauty products, suffered a tragic business deal when its latest and most extravagant perfume branch, Du Coeur, was bought and its price inflated to unreasonably high amounts worldwide. The prices, from 6,000 dollars to 23,423 euros, pushed even the wealthiest buyers to retract their purchases on hold, sending the whole perfume branch into a severe economic short. The one responsible is the perfume branch's new owner: one Montana Max from Acme Acres, California, United States, who is currently paying off a massive debt by selling most of the possessions he accumulated for himself over the past month. In his bout of bad debt, Monty, as he's known to fans of Tiny Toon Adventures, unknowingly tossed out the last remaining crate of Du Coeur, not knowing its current value. Whether Du Coeur will pick up again after this bad bout of business has yet to be confirmed by Shamel. Today, however, the last known twenty bottles in the world will be auctioned off one bottle at a time from the perfume's new lucky owner, Mr. Hamton Pig of Acme Acres, California."

Back in Acme Acres, Furrball was watching the report in English with his friends while eating popcorn shrimp, cheering when they heard Hamton's name.

Montana Max, who was also watching back at his mansion, broke down into hysterical sobs while beating his fists upon the floor.

"Ah, cheer up, my Monty-Wonty," said Elmyra, patting his back. "Look on the bright side."

"What bright side?!" Monty wailed. "That should've been me! WHY CAN'T I EVER WIN AGAINST THOSE STUPID PEASANTS?"

"I don't really know," said Elmyra with a shrug. "But, like I said, look on the bright side. You're still pretty rich and you still got me."

Monty rolled his eyes and groaned, but, no longer crying, sat stubbornly on the couch with his arms crossed as the auction began, Elmyra snuggling beside him without being pushed back.

"Bonjour, hello, and good afternoon," said the auctioneer in his crisp English tone, standing tall with his hands behind his back. "Welcome, everyone, to a very special auction. Today, we shall be offering up a grand total of twenty separate bottles of Shamel brand Du Coeur perfume."

With a shirk of his hand, he pulled a white cloth off a tall platform beside the podium. On display, underneath, was the beautiful purple bottle, sparkling under the overhead lights. Many beheld the perfume with awestruck murmurs.

"This perfume," the auctioneer continued, "as you all may know, has recently been discontinued until further notice due to the massive inflation over Christmas Eve. It may never be available again. This 2-ounce perfume comes in a fine, purple crystal bottle, and the elegant cap is made with 12-karat gold. And, though I have no idea how it would be possible, even in a world of cartoons, international laws passed a bill making it illegal for anyone who doesn't own a bottle to publicly describe its scent. This, of course, is no longer in effect as the product has been discontinued. Each of the twenty bottles here are boxed and will be offered up one after the other. All bids shall be paid following the sale of the last bottle. And now," the auctioneer concluded, clapping his hands in eager anticipation, "without further ado, let us start the bidding."

(Author's Note: I am well aware that European nations use differing currencies. However, because Hamton is the one receiving a majority of the payment, all prices in this auction will be translated into U.S. dollars. Thank you.)

The longer Hamton sat in his chair next to Fifi, watching the auction, the more astounded he became.

The first bottle of Du Coeur was auctioned off in less than a minute. Starting at $1000, the price grew to a jaw-dropping $5500.

"Sold!" declared the auctioneer. "To the French Prime Minister for $5500!"

The price aside, Hamton felt goosebumps crawl up his arm. If the first bottle of Du Coeur sold for that high a price, how much higher was it going to climb by the twentieth bottle?

"Very good," said the auctioneer, writing down the winning bid on a notepad. "And now, bottle number two! Let us, once again, start the bidding at one-thousand dollars."

The second bottle was sold shortly afterwards. On and on, bidder after bidder found themselves pressing their salaries to the limit. And with each bottle sold, the total profit grew to the point where Hamton was sure he'd have a heart attack at any given moment.

One bottle sold for $9,250. Another for $11,000. Hamton's breathing became staggered with excitement, while beside him, Fifi and Gigi were laughing their heads off while people tugged their ears, scratched their chins, and waved their number signs like mad, hoping to be the next owner of the famous perfume.

Finally, only one bottle was left.

"Ladies and gentleman," said the auctioneer in a clear, bracing voice. "This is the twentieth and final bottle of Du Coeur. There may not be another copy of this perfume available ever again. I ask you now to calmly and carefully make your bids." Clearing his throat, he said, "Let us start, for the last time, at $3000."

A man in the corner raised his sign. "$3500!"

"Thank you, sir."

Immediately after, a woman in a white fur coat declared, "$6000!"

"$7000!" the man cried again.

"Thank you, sir," said the auctioneer. "Do I hear $8000?"

A German man raised his sign.

"Thank you. Do I hear $9000?"

"$10,000!"

"We have $10,000. Any higher?"

A moment of silence.

$11,000!" cried a man in the very back. Hamton leaned in his chair, but couldn't see the bidder.

"$15,000!" called an African oil tycoon.

"$20,000!" came a woman's voice, in the back where the unseen man's voice came from. Fifi leaned in her chair and looked down the aisle, trying to find who bid.

"Thank you!" said the auctioneer, also straining to glimpse the bidder in back. "Do I hear higher?"

"$30,000!" cried the woman in the fur coat again.

"$40,000!" came a fashion diva.

"$70,000!" called the man in the back row.

"$90,000 and that's my final offer!" declared the woman in the fur coat.

"Very well, madam" said the auctioneer. "Do I hear any higher?"

Looking very harassed, the fashion diva called, "$120,000!"

Hamton felt his throat go very dry, unsure of whether he was going to faint.

"$120,000!" cried the auctioneer amongst the silence. "Going once!"

Silence.

"Going —"

"$200,000!"

The entire room went silent.

The man from the backrow had walked forward, holding hands with a woman.

They were not dressed in expensive fur coats; they were wearing simple sweaters and blue jeans, crisp and clean. They did not have any gold, diamond rings, nor did any of the richer crowd seem to recognize them. Nobody did, except for Fifi.

"Bless my soul," she said, breath taken, her hand over her heart. "It is ze two of you. . . ."

"My word..." breathed the auctioneer, recognizing the man and woman as well.

"We, the creators of Du Coeur," said the woman, smiling, "bid $200,000 for the last bottle. Final offer."

The auctioneer, his gavel raised, gazed through the crowd, all of whom seemed too taken aback by the appearance of this couple to remember that they were desperately trying to outbid each other.

So . . . Hamton thought. These were the ones who made the perfume. . . . They were much simpler than he imagined. They looked as though they belonged to anyone in the middle class, yet to have made something as famous as Du Coeur. . . .

"Going once," called the auctioneer. "Going twice. . . ."

Nobody spoke. Nobody raised their signs. Nobody moved.

The gavel struck the podium's wood.

"SOLD!" declared the auctioneer. "The last bottle of Du Coeur, to its creators for $200,000!"

And, at that moment, everyone stood from their chairs and applause flooded the hall. The fur coat woman and the fashion king clapped enthusiastically for the winners, never minding their loss at owning the perfume.

With the auction over, Hamton followed the auctioneer and Mrs. La Fume to the main office where the final transactions took place. Hamton was given the honor of handing each winning bidder their bottle of Du Coeur. They shook his hand, congratulated him on his good fortune, and wished him a pleasant year before leaving with their prize.

Hamton was only half-aware of the checks and cash being received; all of it just seemed too surreal, even in a cartoon world. The thrill and taste of having so much money had never been compelling for Hamton, and now, after all the trouble he went through to raise so much this month alone, the possession of so much wealth just seemed strenuous.

Perhaps it just wasn't in Hamton's cartoon character to drool over money like Monty would.

Besides, when it came to value, the most precious treasure in Hamton's life was waiting for him outside the room.

Finally, the last winners approached the desk. Hamton reached into the empty wooden crate and grabbed the last shiny box. From inside his stomach, he felt as though a dull weight had finally lessened, disappearing as the last of the most famous perfume in the world was leaving his possession.

When Hamton straightened up and presented the box, the man and woman from earlier were standing in front of him.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," the man said kindly, holding his hand for Hamton to shake.

Hamton took it. "Uh . . . the pleasure's all mine," he replied shyly. "So, you both created Du Coeur?"

"Yes, we did," said the woman. "It took us three years to concoct. Three long years of working together, building something grand. But, in the long hours planning and perfecting the perfume, we," she turned to her true love, "the two of us, formed something far more wonderful."

The woman took the man's hand, and he closed his fingers with hers.

"But why spend so much?" asked Hamton. "Don't you both have several bottles?"

"Oh, no," said man. "We created the product for Shamel. They paid us well — well enough to be comfortable for the rest of our lives — but otherwise, the perfume was just another job."

"But," said the woman, "seeing as it was what led us to marriage, we thought we'd buy a bottle, in commemoration of where we have been and what it created."

Hamton said nothing, but smiled. Holding out the box, he placed it in the woman's outstretched palm.

"We heard," said the man, "from that purple skunk girl outside that you went through a lot of trouble, trying to buy a bottle for her."

Hamton's smile dropped. His stomach gave a twinge of unease.

"No need to look startled, my dear," said the woman with a chuckle. "She told us how courteous you are, that you're thoughtful and," she smirked, "very cute. She said she was lucky beyond anything to have found someone as wonderful as you. She loves you very much."

Hamton blushed. "I love her, too."

"We are honored to hear that our perfume helped, however distant, in bringing you two together," said the woman. "In truth, that was the main hope for our creation: to draw people closer, and in your case it did," she beamed.

"We hope nothing but the finest and most special for you two," said the man. "Keep her close. And remember: The most wonderful gifts we give aren't trinkets, but the reason in why give them. It was an honor to meet you, Hamton Pig."

And, before Hamton could say anything more than "Thanks," — embarrassed yet grateful — the kind couple turned around and walked away, a bright shine from the box being the last thing seen before they moved out of sight.

"Good show, sir," said the auctioneer. "May the very best be to you and your new riches." And he too gave Hamton a final handshake before walking out.

When Hamton and Mrs. La Fume left the office and returned to the auction hall, Fifi and Gigi were the only ones left in the rows of foldout chairs.

Fifi rushed forward and flung her arms around Hamton.

"Oh, congratulations, mon amor!" she cried sweetly. "What a fortunate day!"

"Maman!" cried Gigi excitedly, her fluffy tail bouncing in her eager step. "How much did Hamton make?"

"Now, Gigi, settle down," said Mrs. La Fume smoothly. "Do not get excited just —"

"Hamton, sweetie?" came a startled voice from off to the side.

Hamton jerked out of Fifi's arms in alarm, his heart leaping in his chest.

He did not hear them come in. They had appeared through the door that led out into the lobby: a woman wearing a headband and sunglasses, regardless that she was indoors, and a large man dressed in a brightly colored tropical shirt, a 35 mm. camera hanging around his neck.

"Mom?" cried Hamton, eyes wide. "Dad? What are you guys doing here?!"

"What are we doing here?" asked Winnie as she approached, surprised by the question. "Hamton, we're here making a brochure of Paris during the winter. How did you get here? And who . . ." Winnie broke off, noticing the three female skunks staring at her and Wade in curiosity.

Hamton, stuck in the center of his parents and the La Fumes, felt overwhelmed. The world seemed to be twisting and shaping without control. So much was happening — too much. First, he becomes Fifi's boyfriend. Then he goes to vacation in Paris, then he makes a fortune from the leftover Du Coeur, and now his parents were here! His life may have just become too crazy for a script, or fanfiction, to bare.

"Hamton?" asked Wade. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Huh? Oh! Oh, uh, y-yeah, sure," he said quickly. Clearing his throat, trying to fight down just how awkward he felt, he said, "Uh, Fifi, everyone? This is my Mom and Dad. Mom? Dad?" He turned back to them and stepped beside Fifi. "These are the La Fumes. Celestine, Gigi . . . and Fifi. . ." He took her hand in his, "My girlfriend."

Hamton smiled lightly, and Fifi mirrored it. "Bonjour," she said in a friendly voice.

It felt like missing a bottom stair, the way the situation had come upon them. This was not the way Hamton expected or wanted his parents to meet Fifi — certainly not by surprise in a Paris auction house. Then again, he hadn't exactly thought of a time or place to introduce her, so he supposed it could've been worse.

Winnie was the first to react.

"Oh!" she squealed, skipping forward. "How wonderful! So, you're Hamton's darling beauty."

"Mom!" Hamton said indignantly, his face going very hot.

But Fifi giggled, her white furry cheeks turning pink. "I guess I am. Fifi La Fume." She held out her hand and Winnie shook it.

"Winnie Pig," she stated. "Very nice to meet you. And this," she motioned behind her, "is my husband, Wade."

"Nice to meet you, ladies," greeted Wade, tipping his hat to Mrs. La Fume and Gigi.

After Winnie and Fifi stopped shaking hands, Winnie beamed at Hamton and, before he could react, scooped him up in a tight hug. "Oh, so wonderful! A girlfriend! And we get to meet her family too!"

"Mom, put me down!" Hamton complained, struggling to get out of his mother's strong grip. "Mom! Come on! Not in front of Fifi!" He could hear her and Gigi giggling.

"She doesn't care!" said Winnie, shaking her head in amusement. "Oh, you boys and your pride! Just take your praise and be happy!"

Hamton resigned, guessing he 'ought to feel happy that his parents had absolutely no qualms about Fifi, OR what he was doing in Paris, France, miles from home.

On that note, however, a question arose in Hamton's mind.

"How did you and Dad know I was here?" he asked.

"The News, of course!" replied Winnie, dropping her son back onto his feet. "We were having lunch in one those fancy Paris cafés when, all of a sudden, we heard your name on the News! 'Hamton Pig of Acme Acres, California!'" She paused, then added, "Well, we didn't hear or understand most of the report — most of it was in French — but the two of us heard your name quite clearly at the end." She put her hands on her hips. "Well, you could imagine how we'd react, Hamton. Most parents usually don't hear their kids' names on the News unless they're dead or being arrested."

"I wasn't being arrested!" Hamton retorted. Could his parents embarrass him even MORE in front of Fifi and her family? "I was . . ." but he cut off, realizing the awkwardness of the situation. "I was . . . at an auction with Fifi and her family."

From out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Fifi, Gigi, and Mrs. La Fume give him curious looks, no doubt wondering why he was hesitant in telling his parents the full truth.

"Yeah, we figured that out, too," said Wade. "We heard a lot of chattering about a big event going on, something involving perfume — perfume that came from Acme Acres. Well, when we heard that, we knew we were on the right track. It took us a while to find this place, but we finally did due to all the limos and gold-plated cars. So, Hamton," and he too looked a tad curious, "what's going on here?"

Before Hamton could think of any possible explanation, Gigi did it for him.

"He made a fortune selling Du Coeur!" she declared triumphantly. "Hamton is rich!"

Hamton froze on the spot, his eyes darting swiftly between the La Fumes and his parents.

Winnie and Wade both blinked.

"Rich?" asked Winnie, puzzled. "What does she mean, Hamton?"

Knowing it would do no good to try and pretend, Hamton sighed and said, "Uh . . . Mom, Dad? Do you remember a few weeks ago, when I said I was trying to raise money to buy a bottle of perfume for the girl I liked?"

"Yeah. . . ?" his parents said slowly.

"Well . . . the perfume I was talking about . . . was Du Coeur perfume."

Winnie and Wade both gave a start. The flash on Wade's camera went off on its own, and Winnie's sunglasses, which had always remained fixedly on her head, fell off, revealing a pair of very wide eyes.

"Du Coeur?" she said, speechlessly. "The one from Shamel?"

"Yeah . . ." said Hamton, uneasy.

"The most popular perfume in the world?" Wade asked with disbelief.

"Uh-huh."

"Which costs more than a thousand dollars?!" snapped Winnie.

Frightened, Hamton muttered, "Mm-hmm."

For a moment, Hamton really thought his parents were going to explode or throttle him. But then, as though the build-up had been for nothing, their anger subsided to headshakes.

"Oh, sweetie," said Winnie, her hand on her forehead. "That's taking it way too far."

"Honestly, son," said Wade, looking most sorry for him. "That's going way too far out. It's thoughtful, sure. But all the same—"

"Yeah . . ." said Hamton, rubbing the back of his neck, "my friends all told me likewise."

"Um, if I may?" said Fifi, stepping in. "Hamton did not manage to get ze perfume. At least, not at first."

And Fifi started to explain how Monty had raised the perfume's price and the gift he gave her instead, as well as everything else at the Christmas party.

When Fifi finished, Winnie actually sniffed proud tears, much to Hamton's mild embarrassment. Wade, however, laughed.

"Good for you, my boy!" he said heartily. "I guess everything all worked out in the end. You got the gift AND the girl!"

"Dad!" he strained through his teeth, his face starting to burn way too hot for comfort. "Are you TRYING to embarrass me?"

But Fifi only giggled. "You are so cute when you blush!" she said sweetly.

"He is, isn't he?" said Winnie, beaming.

"EXCUSEZ MOI!" Gigi cried, drawing everyone' attention. "Please, forgive me for interrupting, but, if it would be all right, can we please find out how much Hamton made with ze auction?"

"Oui, Gigi," said Mrs. La Fume impatiently, "we shall find out soon. But first," and she turned back to Wade and Winnie, "would you two care to join us for dinner?"

Hamton blanched. HIS parents AND Fifi's parents? Oh, Lord, have mercy!

"Why," said Winnie, her hands folded atop each other, "that's sounds delightful. Would you like some help?"

"I am sure my husband would love some," said Mrs. La Fume, smiling.

"But-but-!" Hamton spluttered.

"And," Wade cut across, "it would be excellent for us to get to know each other. I mean, seeing as our kids are dating."

"Ooooh!" said Winnie excitedly. "We can show each other our old baby photographs like all parents do."

"Ooooh," said Mrs. La Fume brightly. "You two enjoy photography?"

Hamton and Fifi exchanged wide-eyed, uncomfortable looks, dreading the humiliation that surely awaited them.

"Oooh!" said Gigi, eagerly and slyly. "Zis is going to be a fun evening. . . ."

All comments are welcome.