SPACE JAM AND THE LOONEY TUNES BELONG TO WARNER BROS.
"You dirty skunk!"
Pepé turned his head toward Daffy, obviously offended by that epithet, but Daffy was not in the mood to be politically correct.
The target of this insult was having a nice cup of coffee with a straw, in a way that only cartoon logic could explain, when the mob came into the cafe, ruining his moment of peace and quiet. Daffy's exclamation made him jump in his seat.
"You traitor! You piece of dirt under my feet!" Daffy kept insulting him as he approached so much that Marvin could see the red veins in his bloodshot, wide open eyes. "How could you?!"
"Marv! We knew you were a villain but we didn't think you'd be a bad guy!" Sniffles exclaimed, hurt.
"What are you...?" Marvin was starting to mutter, when it hit him.
He wished the others didn't find out but it seemed they did. Somehow they did. Why, of course: one can never hide anything from a toon...
He didn't want anyone to get a wrong idea and blow dynamite in his face. And that was precisely what was going to happen.
"Oh, dearie..." Marvin sighed, rubbing his face. "Listen, I don't..."
"You've been seeing that guy, Swackhammer! Don't deny it!" Daffy exclaimed, too close to him.
"I don't deny anything. I did. He wanted to see me in private..."
"And we know what happened then! A little bird told us that you agreed to stay out of this!" Sylvester said.
"I did! I did taw Marvin the Martian!" Tweety perched on the cat's shoulder. He had nothing to be afraid of because this time it was both against the same individual.
Marvin turned his head and the first he saw was Wile E. Coyote flashing his fangs at him, grunting like the predator he was.
"It is not my fault that Martians and Selenians are allies!" He said, shrinking in his seat.
"Maybe, but you could have used that to help us!" Daffy reproached him, stabbing him in the chest with an accusing finger.
"Yeah!" Some others exclaimed.
How did Marvin wish he could tell them how futile it was to try to reason with that man! He still cringed remembering being told to come into that office. The desk Swackhammer was sitting at was apparently designed to make him sit above all those who came to talk to him. And if that didn't work, those five beasts he had for goons, who almost touched the ceiling with their heads, did the trick. He almost forgot that he was not one of the puny, wimpy creatures at his service, but a commander who had a laser pistol in his belt. The way he looked at him. The way he lit a cigar—when he offered one to him, he was even afraid to refuse...
«We needed to have this conversation, buddy. I don't wanna make a fuss, see? I wouldn't dream of laying a hand on a Martian. The deal doesn't include you, of course. When this is over, you are free to keep doing whatever you want.»
"It is not that simple..." Marvin tried to explain to the other Looney Tunes.
"It is very simple, indeed." Daffy frowned. "You've saved your own skin."
"You little vermin, we're all in this together!" Yosemite Sam already had a gun pressed against Marvin's head. "If we fail, all of us are doomed! It ain't time to do nothin'! You're giving the villain guild a bad name!"
"We counted on you." Granny shook her head, disappointed, her hand on her chest, surely acting like a hurt old lady just to make him feel guilty, and it worked perfectly.
They didn't blow him up with explosives, or shove his face on a cake. Marvin almost wished they did. They just wanted to let him know what a piece of garbage they thought he was and that hurt him more than any of the usual slapstick.
He was forced to hide inside his flying saucer, alone, because no one else wanted to see him. Everyone in Toon Town considered him a traitor. Even K-9 looked at him with little sympathy, or at least Marvin had that feeling.
What could he do? It was not his fault having been drawn that way. He didn't want to be that disgusting individual's friend, or have anything to do with him. He couldn't just go to him and tell him he was willing to fight him and be enslaved with the other Looney Tunes. They didn't understand that there were rules. Rules no toon could twist to their liking.
Did they really think he liked the possibility that all of them would become Swackhammer's workforce, his pets, his attractions? They were his friends! They had worked in so many movies and shows together he couldn't ignore the bond formed with the years!
Marvin barely slept those days in which Bugs gathered the rest to work on a plan to get themselves help, someone who could beat the Monstars, someone who played basketball even better than they did. Nobody counted on him, so he had a lot of time to think.
There was no point in denying it: he was a screwball, a loon, just like them. He couldn't just look away and let them lose their freedom.
But he had always been different. He was something from far away, a mystery. Something out of their world. He was as much of a freak to them as Swackhammer and the Monstars were.
He was trapped between two worlds, each of them demanding his help.
Oh, what in the name of Chuck Jones could he do?
He had no one to ask for an opinion, no one to open his heart to. What a dreadful situation, the worst he had ever experienced in his life!
It was going to be one hell of a match, that was the only thing he was sure of. The Monstars wouldn't play fair. Swackhammer would do everything in his hand to make them win. If they had to crush the toons, they would. They would make his theme park win a lot of money, after all. It was a great investment. He had to win and wouldn't mind how. Even if the Looney Tunes found the best basketball player of all time, their chances of winning were very thin—if they had any at all.
That was what made the light bulb above his head switch on.
When he showed himself to his toon fellows again, in the gym where they were practicing, he was received with the expected glares.
"Hello, everybody." He said.
"Look who's here." Sylvester frowned, the ball still in his hands.
"Did your fiend, I say, your friend from the Moon tell you to spy on us?" Foghorn placed his hands on his wide hips as he came towards him, seemingly ready to hit him with his stomach.
It wasn't until some seconds later when he noticed the clothes he was wearing.
"What are you dressed as? You look like a pedestrian crossing."
"You are probably right, and I should be there playing with you. But I can't. I don't expect you to understand what is forcing me to stay away from this." Marvin said. "Still, if they have to enslave you, I want them to do it rightfully. You said you'd follow them if they won. Very well. They'll have to win in a fair match."
The whistle shone in his hand.
"I will make sure about it."
They didn't look convinced. Marvin wasn't very convinced either. Who could point at the fouls of those gigantic beasts? But he supposed that was the price to pay. It was the only thing he could do for his friends, his Selenian allies and his own conscience.
THE END