Though he was a genius and quite sophisticated, Wile E. had refused to conform to what most might call "uniform housing standards." He lived in a large cavern carved into the corner of a hillside on the outskirts of Eastern Los Angeles, where the suburban neighborhoods slowly melted into rock and desert. The interior walls of the coyote's home were made of rock and hard earth. The floor was packed dirt and stones. It was a domicile that had been depicted on several occasions in the Road Runner cartoons of the 50's. But despite it's rugged natural qualities, the inside was completely furnished with electricity and the usual objects one finds inside a common house: chairs, rugs, a television, and a complete kitchen with stove and sink with drain. A hole in one of the walls led to a small bedroom. Another hole led into his work room. The coyote's home had taken on one other human convention. Along the outer walls of the den holes had been made, most
likely via small dynamite blasts, to serve as windows to let natural light into the rooms. It was simple, natural, and comfortable.
Andy had always felt very comfortable inside the coyote's home. and the whole naturalistic appeal of the place sometimes made Andy feel a bit guilty that he himself wasn't living in some small earthen den in the ground somewhere, rather than the excessively "human" dwelling he had chosen to reside in.
The loud rumble of Slappy's red Dodge Viper echoed into the coyote's house as it pulled up in his driveway. The sound was followed by the slam of a car door, and a familiar knock upon the coyote's front door.
"Are you in, genius?" Called Andy from outside.
Momentarily a voice from within answered. "Are you out, foxed?"
Andy snickered and pounded resiliently on the coyote's front door. "I am in need of a sub-standard intellectual. Perhaps you know where I might find one?"
"Just a moment," came the voice from inside, "Let me phone the local hunt. I hear they've been itchy for a good fox to chase."
Andy scowled and kicked the door playfully. He was about to pick the lock with a clawed finger when the door opened. Wile E. stood filling the doorway, scowling with his eyes but smiling nevertheless.
"Hello, Fox."
Andy began scratching an ear with his extended claw and whistled innocently. "Coyote."
"You were going to pick my lock!" Wile E. accused.
"Would you rather I just walked through the wall?" Andy smiled.
"Oh, get in here," Wile E. laughed, grabbing Andy by his fur and pulling him inside.
"You were out all afternoon?" Andy asked, sitting down in a chair.
"I was at the lab analyzing data until after lunch," Wile E. answered, sounding tired. "Sorry I missed your class. How did it go?"
"Well," came Andy's short reply. "It went pretty well."
"Ah ha," muttered Wile E. thoughtfully. He wandered into the kitchen. "Make yourself at home, Fox," he called back. "What can I do for you?"
"Try and figure out why I've been having headaches lately," Andy said dryly.
"Excuse me?"
"Never mind."
Wile E. returned a few minutes later and handed Andy a cup of oddly colored toon tea.
"I had Thomas come and speak with Calamity," Andy said, trying to sound casual and sipping the pungent liquid. He eyed it oddly as he finished. "I hope you don't mind."
"Mind?" Wile E. fixed the fox with a hard glare. "Mind? Are you mad? That self-inflated, pompous, arrogant windbag of a tree attractor?"
"Well, I..." Andy stammered, suddenly becoming interested in a potted plant across the room. Wile E. came over and shook Andy's paw vigorously, ending the fox's botanical studies. "Well done, old chap, though I do fear if Calamity spends any more time with him, the lad might want him as a mentor rather than yours truly."
"Fat chance," Andy said dryly.
"So, did you get the results then?" Wile E. asked, seating himself in a large arm chair across from Andy.
"Oh, yes," Andy said, distractedly, watching strange pink swirls form in his tea as he sipped it.
Wile E. picked up a small device from a table next to his chair and began to fiddle with it. "And...?"
"The Tiny Toons did pretty well mostly."
"And... the fox?"
Andy gave an audible shrug. "Um... I haven't looked," he said distantly, apparently not wanting to discuss the topic. He took a large drink of the fragrant red liquid in his cup, noticing that his mental fatigue from the day's activities had fading considerably. "What about the mice, Wile E.," he asked, looking at his cup quizzically.
"Ah," Wile E. said, perking up at the change of subject. "We registered a spike in trans-dimensional activity at the lab late last night," he said finally.
"Great," Andy muttered. He set his cup down, stuffed his paws in his pockets and leaned back.
"It gets better," Wile E. continued. "The spike was due to a inter-spacial gateway. We've, ah, plotted its characteristics."
"So where are they?" Andy asked, cutting to the chase.
The coyote tossed Andy a printout strewn with numbers, graphs, and coordinate maps. A large, important-looking red arrow had been penned in by someone. It pointed to a set of trans-dimensional coordinates. Andy frowned and lowered his eyes as he muttered, "Earth."
The sudden jolt of the jet's landing gear hitting the runway caused Arthur's head to fall forward, waking him up from what could almost be considered a nap.
"Where are we?" he asked, rubbing his sore neck.
The reply came flatly. "Los Angeles."
"Oh, wow," Arthur muttered, still trying to make himself believe his current situation. Only hours before he had been sitting quietly in his home, happily engrossed in his world of cartoons and scotch. Now he was with four mysterious strangers in a city a thousand miles away.
Leaving the airport in a dark Sedan, Arthur was driven to a large, ominous-looking building in the heart of the city. Oversized metal doors closed behind him as he was taken inside.
After passing through a typical reception area and signing in, Phillip led Arthur down several hallways, followed by the rest of the men. As they walked, Arthur noticed the lighting becoming dimmer, giving a secretive yet safe feeling to the place. The air was cool and quiet. Cold beads of perspiration formed down Arthur's back as they entered an elevator and descended several floors.
They eventually arrived at the entrance to a large room filled with electronic equipment and general scientific labware. Arthur stood a few steps inside the doorway with Phillip and looked about. The place looked like something from a science fiction movie set: some sort of high-security research area or other. Arthur was never too keen on science, only receiving mediocre grades in high school. Yet, the room gave him an odd sense of familiarity with its dim lighting, computer screens, lab equipment, and what Arthur could only assume were scientists, busy hunched over microscopes or quietly chatting amongst themselves. It seemed almost welcoming to him--in a chilling and unfamiliar sort of way.
Arthur glanced this way and that, and soon noticed that the focus of everyone's attention seemed to be located across the room. There, in a small cage surrounded by scientists and guards was a sight that Arthur's mind refused to accept.
"Oh, wow," he again muttered. Inside the cage, small but quite distinct, were two white cartoon mice: quite real, very alive, and the existence of which was completely unable to be explained by the scientists present. It was Pinky and The Brain.