A/N: Dis ain't de end.
Wakko woke up to the deafening sound of cartoons being played at full volume downstairs. He groaned and rolled over, his eyes falling on the old analog clock next to him. 10:23.
"Shit!" Wakko cried, jumping up out of bed and pulling on his factory uniform as quickly as he could. He ran to the stairs only to trip over a toy truck lying in the hallway, sending him cascading down a flight of steps. He landed at the bottom, and clutched his head. That had hurt!
"Don't bother yourself," he could hear Constance drawl to him from the next room. "Your boss already called. Said not to bother comin' in. Said he was fed up with your shit. Lost another one, dumbass."
Wakko picked himself up and wandered into the kitchen. "At least I had a job," he growled to the small woman seated at the table smoking a cigarette. "You haven't had a job in years, dear."
She ignored his comment and pointed half-heartedly towards the center of the room. "Junior learned a new trick."
Wakko looked to see Harpo struggling to reach the couch with one of his little hands. When he grabbed ahold of the arm, he slowly hoisted himself up into a standing position, steadied himself, and proceeded to walk a few steps towards Wakko. Wakko's face lit up with a smile.
"He can walk! He can fucking walk!" Wakko ran over to him and held up one of his hands, leading him around the perimeter of the living room a few times. This done, he let go and watched as Harpo teetered around on his own, holding his arms outstretched so not to bump into anything.
"Oh, and thank you for blowing your last paycheck on booze!" Constance burst suddenly, ignoring Harpo's feat. Wakko turned to her.
"So the hell what? It's what we would have bought anyway."
"The rent's due. We're a month behind already. We're gonna get kicked out if we don't come up with some money pretty soon."
"I'll figure something out," Wakko said in a disinterested voice. Margo, Constance's sister who was almost constantly at their house, held up the bottle of vodka to Wakko from where she was sitting on the couch, obviously drunk. The bottle was only half full.
"Come on. You gotta get your nerve up to go look for another job," she slurred.
Drinking vodka at ten thirty in the morning was not something that Wakko would have thought he'd do ten years ago – but that was then, and this was now. He swiped the bottle from her grip and took a long gulp, then looked back down at Harpo, who was still walking slowly around the perimeter of the living room. Margo's children were half-watching the loud cartoons, and half beating each other up. Wakko had long learned that for Margo's children, school was not on their priority list and therefore they almost never went. They'd gotten held back a grade already, but it didn't seem to matter much to them.
The oldest girl, around ten, suddenly turned her attention to Harpo, who had just spilled her orange juice by tripping over it. She screamed. "This stupid little midget just spilled my drink!" she whined to her mother.
"So do something about it, Leslie," Margo said flatly, not tearing her gaze from the cartoons. Wakko took another long drink from the bottle as he sat down on the couch.
Leslie unceremoniously shoved Harpo, causing him to fall flat on his back, hitting his head on the floor. "Watch it, twerp!" she yelled at him. Harpo looked up at her, but didn't move from where he'd fallen down. He continued to look at her seriously until she threw a spoon from her cereal at him. "Stop looking at me, weirdo! Moooom, Harpo won't stop staring at me!" Leslie's seven year old brother, a particularly conniving little redhead named Brad, took the rest of Leslie's cereal and poured it over Harpo's head. Leslie and Brad broke into hysterical laughter at the sight of milk dripping down Harpo's face and his surprised expression.
Why doesn't he do something? Wakko thought disdainfully as he stared down at his son. He took another liberal sip from the bottle. Why doesn't he fight back?
"What a dummy!" Brad cried gleefully, always happy to make fun of those he thought less of. Harpo began struggling to get back up, only to have Brad push him back over and laugh. "C'mon dummy, can't you get up?"
"Brad, shut up. Mommy can't hear the cartoons," Margo pratted to her son, who stuck his tongue out but remained silent. Margo looked over at Wakko. "Hey, didn't you used to be in cartoons?"
Suddenly everyone in the room was looking over at Wakko, who poured the last drops of vodka down his throat and belched. "Yep," he said simply.
"Why aren't you in them anymore? 'Cause some toons have been in cartoons a really long time. Why aren't you still in them? You too stupid? Did everyone hate you? Weren't funny?" Brad rambled. Wakko resisted the urge to throw the bottle at him.
"Lots of reasons," Wakko said. He got up and grabbed Harpo by the back of his overalls, not wanting to carry the discussion any farther. He carried Harpo into the kitchen, where he wiped off his face with a towel, and then set him back down on his feet. "Walk," Wakko said sternly to the little boy. Harpo looked up at him with big eyes but didn't let go of his father's hand. "Jesus, why do I even bother…" Wakko grumbled, wriggling free of his son's grasp and walking out to the dining room where he sifted through the paper bag from last night for the gin. A moment later he felt a small form wrap around his leg and he looked down to find Harpo looking back up at him. Wakko shook free and sighed heavily, both out of anger and frustration. "You're five years old!" he roared at Harpo. "Don't think you're such hot shit for learning how to walk, little man! You can't even understand one word I'm saying!" He gently pushed Harpo towards the kitchen. "Go on! Get!" Harpo didn't move. "Show me some sign you understand me!" Wakko cried down to his son. Still, Harpo didn't move. Wakko pushed him harder. "Get out of here! Go on, I don't want to see you! You can walk now, so get out!" Harpo walked back towards Wakko and wrapped himself around his father's leg lovingly. Wakko felt like his heart was breaking. He gruffly picked the boy up, bringing him to eye level. "What's wrong with you?" Wakko whispered fiercely to him. Wakko thought he could see a flicker in Harpo's eye, but it could have just been the vodka. Wakko sighed and pulled Harpo into a tight hug. "I wish I could have done better for you, Harpo," he said in a painful whisper to his son. "You were just born to the wrong father, that's all…"
"When the hell are you going out to find a job?" Constance screeched from the living room. Wakko put Harpo down.
"Right now." Wakko grabbed his keys, threw one last look at Harpo, and slammed the door behind him.
Meanwhile Yakko had jumped in he and Babs' red convertible that morning headed towards Alballa. The convertible had been a last minute splurge, when they'd each received bonuses and decided a celebration was in order. It hadn't been new, but it hadn't been old either, and Yakko had to admit he looked pretty good in it. Yakko wasn't quite sure where his brother would be but figured Alballa couldn't be a large town to begin with. If he didn't see Wakko wandering around outside, he'd just start asking places. He figured at least someone would know where Wakko was. It was hard to ignore a Warner.
He was both excited and nervous as hell; he half expected to get a punch in the face. Still, he wanted – he needed – to see his brother again, and was willing to risk a few broken bones to do it.
As Yakko rolled into town, he could see right away that Alballa was a factory town and little else. Main street was a collection of boarded up storefronts, a greasy lunch counter type place, a seedy bar and two liquor stores right next to one another. Further down were rows and rows of old, decaying houses that didn't look livable. Still, he saw plenty of people – plenty of toons – hanging around on front porches, on the hoods of cars, and on the street curbs. This is where his brother lived?
He could smell the factory long before he could see it. Yakko drove past, but the sign displaying the company name was so obscured by graffiti he couldn't quite tell what kind of factory it was. From the smell of it, it was something industrial. He was lost in his thoughts as he passed by a hunched figure walking the opposite direction in a blue uniform. Yakko slammed on the brakes a second later as he realized it was him! It was Wakko!
Yakko hit reverse and quickly slid into a parking spot along the side of the cracked, pot-hole filled road. He jumped out of the car and ran after the man in blue, who also seemed lost in his thoughts. Yakko's voice got stuck in his throat and he found his heart was pounding too hard to be able to shout. Instead, as Wakko heard someone coming up behind him, he turned to see a familiar face running after him.
"It is you!" Yakko cried to Wakko. He threw his arms around his brother. "I knew it! I knew I'd find you!"
Wakko shoved him away. "What the – Yakko? What the hell, man? What are you doing here?" He had a cigarette hanging lazily from the side of his mouth, and despite the early hour, Yakko could smell alcohol on his breath.
"I'll explain later. Let me look at you." Yakko stepped back and got a good look at his baby brother for the first time in six years. The change was pretty dramatic, and Yakko fought hard not to let his antipathy towards Wakko's appearance shine through in his facial expression. Though Wakko was a toon, he somehow appeared older, more ragged and haggard then Yakko had ever seen him. There were huge bags under his eyes, and his clothes hung off his small frame as though they were several sizes too big. Yakko grabbed the cigarette from Wakko's mouth. "You shouldn't smoke," he said, his 'big-brotherliness' coming back to him. "It's not good for you."
Wakko looked shocked, then snatched the cigarette back from Yakko. "I don't even know what to say. What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," Yakko said.
"Why? You haven't spoken one word to me in six years; why do you come back now, hm?" He sighed and scratched the side of his head. "And why did it have to be this morning?"
Yakko was thoughtful for a moment. "How to explain it? I really couldn't tell you." He looked his brother in the eye. "I missed you, bro. I want to be a part of your life again, if you'll let me."
Wakko began to walk away at a furious pace. "Why should I? You deserted me. What the hell do I owe you?"
"Look, look, wait a minute." Yakko caught up. He jumped in front of Wakko. "I know I've got some explaining to do. Please. Is there somewhere we can go?"
Wakko looked warily at his big brother for a moment, then slowly pointed at the bar across the street from where they were standing. "Jack's opens at noon. You can buy me a drink."
"At twelve o'clock in the afternoon?" Yakko said with a slight look of disgust. "You sure?"
"Hey, I didn't ask you to walk back into my life. The least you could do is buy me a beer."
"Yeah, but isn't it a little early? I mean – "
"Hey, do you want to talk or not?" Wakko said sharply. Yakko held up his hands in defeat and the two made their way silently to the bar. Jack's was a dingy, low lit tavern that served as the small town's only bar, and could usually be found packed with toons every night of the week. Wakko slid onto one of the stools in front of the bar and lit up another cigarette. He offered one to Yakko, who, though he had sworn to Babs that he'd quit again, took one. He didn't want to do anything to make Wakko upset. "Fuji," Wakko said simply to the bartender, who didn't even look surprised that someone had ordered alcohol so early in the day. Yakko waved the bartender away and instead dragged heavily on his cigarette.
"So…" he said slowly, unsure of exactly of what to say to his little brother.
"So," said Wakko curtly. He took a long sip of his beer. "Last time I saw you I was being dragged away in handcuffs for being drunk and disorderly. I was yelling for you to help me, right? And you just turned away. My own brother just turned his back and walked away. I was in that pisspot of a jail for weeks."
"Weeks? On a drunk and disorderly?"
"They had a warrant out for other charges. All of which could have been dropped with the signature of some sort of guardian. Especially one who was a lawyer."
Yakko frowned. "You're doing it again. You're doing what you did all those years ago. You expected me to just stand by while you destroyed things and made an ass of yourself, and then you expected me to pick up the pieces. You never took responsibility for your actions. It always somehow ended up being my fault."
"I never said that! All I wanted was someone to stand by me!"
"Stand by you while you fucked up your life, you mean?"
"It's my life! You were always butting in and telling me what to do!" Wakko downed another portion of his drink. "It wouldn't have been so bad if you hadn't been so goddamn condescending about it, like you were god, and I was some little piece of shit!"
"For that I'm sorry," Yakko said quietly. Wakko looked at him, surprised at such a frank admission from Yakko, who usually never admitted he had been wrong. "I know I shouldn't have treated you like that. But it was hard to watch my little brother make a mess of his life after the show ended. I was embarrassed and scared for you. I guess I didn't know how to handle it. And my life was going so well…" Yakko sighed. "Part of me thought you would taint my life," he said softly.
"Did I?" Wakko asked seriously.
Yakko put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Never."
Wakko smiled a little bit but said nothing. If his brother didn't think he was a total screw up who ruined anyone's life he came in contact with, maybe there was hope after all. "Thanks," Wakko whispered. Yakko pulled him into a hug and squeezed him tightly. The younger Warner had always looked up to his brother, and his heart had broken as he watched Yakko walk away from him on that night so long ago. It was the most heart-wrenching moment of his life when his own brother wouldn't even acknowledge him.
"So let's play a little catch up. Reacquaint me with my brother," Yakko said with a smile. "I hear I have a nephew."
"How'd you know that?"
"Tax records. Its how I found you."
"Is that legal?"
"For a lawyer it is."
"Still a lawyer, huh? Still with Babs?"
"Yep."
"Married? Kids?"
"Nope. But we're thinking of getting a goldfish."
"And I suppose that's your convertible out there," Wakko said, nodding to the red car parked outside.
"How'd you know that?"
"Apart from the fact that my brother loves flash? It's the only car on the street that looks drivable. The rest are missing windshields and license plates."
"Is that legal?"
"For a poor toon it is."
"How'd you end up in this town, anyway?" Yakko asked.
Wakko finished his beer and motioned for Jack to bring him another one. "I knocked up Constance," he said simply. "She's my girlfriend. Well, kinda. We live together. Her sister lives here. Her sister is also constantly at a loss for a place to live. So we all moved in together. Right now there about five people living at my house. Sometimes there's more. Sometimes less. I don't always know who they are, but I don't ask anymore. I don't care."
Yakko looked puzzled. "Wait, wait. So Constance is your 'kinda' girlfriend."
"Yeah. You know. 'Kinda.' She needs money and I need sex. We both know what we're in it for. It's just convenient to live together, that's all."
Yakko was dumbfounded but tried not to show it. "And Charles?"
"Harpo, you mean. My son. Yeah. He lives there too." Wakko drank deeply from the bottle. "Margo – Constance's sister – always has a few of her kids over. Hell, for all I know, they could be Constance's. It doesn't matter to me. She can do what she wants." Wakko could see the disapproving look on his brother's face. "Not all of us can be star lawyers, all right? This is what my life is. Who cares?"
"I do. How – I mean really, how – did it get this way? How did you go from being one of the best-known toons in Toontown to a live-in money-maker who sits in a bar at noon and is already half drunk? Who doesn't even know all the people in his house?"
"This helped," Wakko said, shaking the bottle of beer. "And I don't know. Fate? Or maybe I was just lazy." Wakko shrugged. "Look, I don't know, all right? I don't want a lecture."
"I don't want to give you one. I shouldn't have to. But I guess…" Yakko looked away. "I guess I don't know why things aren't better than they are for you." Both brothers were silent for several minutes. Wakko waved away the bartender who came to offer him another drink. Finally Yakko sighed and said, "So am I going to get to meet this nephew of mine, or what?"
Wakko shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't really want Yakko to see where – or how – he lived. He also didn't want his brother to see Harpo, because he knew there would be all sorts of questions thrown at him that he had no idea how to answer. "He's kind of quiet," was all Wakko said.
"A thinker, huh? Come on, we'll hop in my car and go see him. And I can meet your 'kinda' girlfriend," Yakko said with a small smile. Wakko, feeling he had no choice, slid off the bar stool slowly and followed Yakko to the car. Wakko met the look of numerous curious neighbors who had spotted the well-to-do looking toon driving and he sitting in the passenger's seat. Finally Wakko pointed to a dilapidated green house with white shutters that were falling off their hinges.
"That's it," he said.
Wakko kicked the door in as he always had to and called inside, "Constance?" which met with silence. Wakko shrugged to Yakko. "They're all around here somewhere, probably. They'll come out of the woodwork when they realize you've got that fancy car. Come on in."
Yakko entered behind his brother and did his best to jostle the door back into place behind him. Gray walls met with stained, dark green carpet on the floor as Yakko took a look around the house that his brother had spent all these years in. There were no pictures on the walls. No neatly arranged furniture, only a couple of battered lay-z-boys and a kitchen table with one of its legs propped up by a phone book. The windows were covered by off-white, plastic blinds that were closed and looked like they had been for a long time. A table lamp crowned one part of the floor and an enormous pile of what looked like liquor bottles rounded off another. Yakko briefly thought back to he and Bab's apartment, which sported clean, new furniture and an airy brightness to all the rooms. He followed Wakko into the kitchen to find pots and pans stacked unceremoniously near the sink, some clean and some encrusted with unidentifiable food. Numerous ashtrays, all full to the hilt, were scattered around the room and half empty gin and whiskey bottles were strewn on the surfaces of the room. Wakko lit another cigarette and puffed heavily.
"Welcome to Paradise," he said gruffly. "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."
For once in his life, Yakko was at a loss for words, so instead he, too, grabbed a cigarette and began to puff, if only so he did not have to speak. As his eyes continued to scan the room, his gaze fell on a small figure crouched in the corner, playing with what looked like a rubber band by wrapping it around its small finger over and over again. Yakko continued to watch, half-interested, until he realized the kid looked just like him. "Wakko? Is that your son?" he said, pointing to the small form.
Wakko, by this time, had poured himself an old fashioned. He crushed the orange slice and cherry deep into his glass and nodded without looking up. "That's him."
Almost excitedly, Yakko walked over to the child and said loudly, "Hey kiddo! I'm your uncle Yakko!" He waited for some response. When he got none, Yakko tried another route. "Hey kid – cat got your tongue? Don'tcha want to meet your own uncle?" Still, Harpo did not look up. Confused, Yakko looked back at him brother. "What's the matter? He deaf?"
"No," Wakko said simply, still not looking up from his drink.
Yakko sat down next to the little boy and tried to catch his eye, but Harpo's gaze did not leave the rubber band he patiently wound and unwound from his index finger. Yakko watched him for a while, then finally put his hand over the little boy's hand to see what he would do. Finally, Harpo looked up at him with a surprised look on his face. Yakko smiled. "Hi Harpo. I'm Yakko." Yakko took Harpo's hand and shook it gently. "I've been waiting a long time to meet you."
"Don't bother. He can't understand what you're saying anyway," Wakko called from the corner.
Yakko looked over at him. "How can you tell?"
"Because he never fucking does anything. He just sits there."
Yakko stood up. "Well haven't you ever gotten him tested for anything? Maybe he's autistic, maybe it's some sort of developmental handicap or something! Maybe you could do something to help him!" Yakko laughed humorlessly, angry more than anything else. "I mean, he's five, Wakko, and he can't talk or do anything, something must be wrong! Haven't you done anything about it?"
"What would I do about it?" Wakko growled, spinning around to meet his brother's gaze. "Where you come from Yakko – there are doctors who could help. There are hospitals that could help. You and Babs have money, we don't! We don't have money for doctors! Even if we did, what doctor would help us! We're toons!"
Yakko felt stung. There was that toon injustice thing again.
"Who the hell cares about some little toon around here, huh? Maybe it's different in Toontown, but around here, all we're good for is the work no human wants to do! We're just the manual labor, and there's enough of us that no human has to care about one little toon that can't talk or walk or do anything! It's just one less toon to worry about mouthing off to a human, or causing a human any trouble!"
"Wakko, you might be right, but Toontown hospitals are only three hours away! If you really wanted to help your son, you could at least take him there for doctors to run a few tests!"
"Oh, yeah, right, because we're just rolling in the money here, aren't we, brother?"
"Maybe you would be, if you didn't spend all your money on alcohol! I mean, look at this place! You can't be spending it on home décor! And those big piles of empty bottles tell a story, don't they?" Yakko yelled across the room. Beneath him, Harpo flinched and looked the other way. "This isn't just something you can make excuses about!"
"Who the hell do you think you are, anyway? I mean, Christ, you walk back into my life an hour ago and now you're telling me how to raise my son! I'm glad Dot and I haven't spoken to you in so long – this is exactly why!"
"I'm telling you this because I'm still your brother! I'm still your brother who cares about your well-being, and your family's well being!"
"What family have I got?" Wakko roared, throwing his glass against the wall. Yakko cringed at the shattering sound. "A brother and a sister I haven't spoken to in ten years, a girlfriend who hates me and a kid who can't talk? What the hell kind of family is that?"
"If that's the way you really felt, you would have left a long time ago," Yakko said quietly.
Wakko didn't reply for a long moment, mulling over what Yakko had said. He had often thought about just packing up and leaving one night, never to return. But something always stopped him. It wasn't any well-intentioned feeling – it was pure, simple fear of the unknown. "Don't think it's out of any noble thoughts, Yakko. The only reason I stayed is because I don't know any other way now. It's been this way so long, I don't know what else there is."
"Then let me help," Yakko said, walking towards his brother. "Come back with me to Toontown, you can stay with Babs and I as long as you want, we'll get Harpo into the doctor's – "
"Has it ever occurred to you that someone might not want anything to do with you?" Wakko spat. "I don't want your help. I don't want your pity. I certainly don't want your advice. I want you to leave. Right now."
The door suddenly flew open and Constance stood in the doorway, looking frightened. "Wakko – Greenblatt says if we don't have that rent to him in an hour, he's callin' the cops and kickin' us out." She put her hand to her mouth, looking more vulnerable than Wakko had ever seen her. "What're we going to do? We got no where to go! We'll be in an alleyway by sundown, Wakko, you gotta do something!"
Perhaps both out of the fact that Wakko wanted to scare his brother enough to leave him alone and because he just didn't care anymore, Wakko immediately made up his mind what to do. He ran to the couch, plunged his hand in between the cushions and brought out a .35mm handgun. From under the couch he drew a couple of extra magazine cartridges and started to lock and load.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Yakko cried. The situation had just gotten much, much stranger for the older brother. "What the hell, Wakko? Why've you got a gun? What're you going to do?" Yakko plunged towards him, but Wakko ducked out of the way.
"I told you to leave," he said in a dangerous tone. "You don't want to be a part of this. Get out of here."
"What're you going to do?" Yakko said again, in a much weaker voice. "Please, Wakko, don't do anything stupid, we can work this out! How much do you need? Let me just give you the rent money – "
"I don't want anything from you!" he growled as he snatched up Harpo gruffly. Harpo let out a wail. "I want you out!"
"What're you going to do with Harpo?"
"Give me your keys."
"What're you going to do?"
"I don't have any choice. Give them to me."
Before Yakko could protest, Wakko had grabbed the keys hanging from Yakko's belt loop and bolted to the car, Constance and Yakko in tow. Wakko didn't realize until a few seconds later that his brother was in the backseat, holding tightly onto Harpo. "Get out!" Wakko yelled back to him. "Believe me, I don't want you a part of this!"
"We're brothers!" Yakko yelled over the wind roaring past all of them in the convertible. "We're gotta stick together!"
Wakko screamed in frustration. "Fine! But just stay out of my way, all right!" The car skidded to a stop in front of the only liquor store in town and the full realization of what Wakko was about to do hit Yakko.
"Wait a minute! It doesn't have to be like this!" Yakko cried as he watched Wakko grab Harpo out of the backseat.
"Stay here," Wakko ordered, as if Yakko hadn't spoken at all.
"What are you doing with him?" Yakko asked, pointing to Harpo.
"Sometimes these things get complicated. It's best to have a hostage along, if it turns out you need one," he rattled off, sounding uninterested. He motioned to Constance in the front seat. "Get ready, babe. When I get out, you step on it, all right?"
Constance slid into the driver's seat. "Got it."
Comprehension dawned on Yakko. "You've done this before, haven't you?"
Wakko said nothing but exchanged a quick look with his brother. This is why his wages are being garnished, Yakko thought. He's done it and gotten caught before.
By the time this thought entered Yakko's mind, Wakko had already darted into the store, holding Harpo firmly by the back of the neck, and screamed at the owner, whom he knew so well, to hand over all the cash he had. "Come on, man, I'm not fucking around!" Wakko yelled, shakily pointing the gun at his friend while Harpo struggled to get away. Instead of handing over the money, Wakko watched as the owner hit a small button on the floor. A loud shriek filled the air as the store alarm went off. The liquor store owner stood stone-like behind the counter as if daring Wakko to do as he threatened.
Wakko hesitated a moment, knowing full well that however badly he needed money, he would never be able to shoot anyone. He growled in frustration at his own perceived weakness, dropped Harpo, and ran behind the counter, bashing the cash register with the butt of his gun until the cash drawer gave and burst open. Wakko looked up at the owner, who stood next to him but did nothing, only continued to stare icily at Wakko. Not having time to feel guilt, Wakko grabbed all the money he could easily hold in one fist from the drawer then jumped over the counter. Wakko looked back over his shoulder and gave the owner a tired look. "I'm sorry," Wakko said softly. The owner shook his head and looked away.
Wakko shot back out to the car and jumped over the side just as Constance began to speed away. The three in the car could hear the sirens beginning to loom up over the horizon and Constance instinctively pressed down harder on the accelerator. As Wakko turned back around to the front, he realized someone was missing.
"Harpo!" Wakko yelled. "We have to go back for him!"
"Are fucking crazy?" Constance screamed at him from the front seat. "As soon as we go back, we'll be swamped with twenty police cars! Leave him!"
"We can't!" Wakko was beginning to panic at the thought of his son being left alone. "We can't leave him!" he bellowed again. "They'll take him away from me! I'll never see him again!"
"So the hell what? One less mouth to feed!"
But Wakko wasn't listening. Instead, he was poised on the trunk of the car, ready to leap off. He looked back at Constance with pain in his eyes. "I can't leave my son. I'm the only one who understands him. He needs me." Wakko paused. "And I need him. I won't leave Harpo!" With that, he leapt off the back of the speeding car.
"Jesus! This morning he couldn't stand the sight of Harpo, now he wants to go back into a rat's nest of cops!" Constance muttered to herself.
Meanwhile, Yakko had his head in his hands, thinking hard. Oh God, I'm one of Toontown's best lawyers, and here I am involved in a liquor store heist. Christ! They're even using my car as a get-away car! Wait 'til the media gets a hold of this! I'm ruined! Yakko suddenly stopped and recognized this feeling. It was the exact same feeling he'd had the night that Wakko was being taken in for the umpteenth time on a drunk and disorderly. It was the night Yakko abandoned him. It was the night that had caused Yakko to not see his brother for the next six years. I already made that mistake once, Yakko thought as he suddenly stood up and positioned himself to jump. Reputation or no, some things are more important.
Constance felt the other presence in the car jump and sighed. "Fuck them," she muttered, realizing she had a nice convertible and a full tank of gas at her disposal. Not only that, she had no house, no boyfriend to worry about (because she knew Wakko would just end up in the slammer again) and hey, no one could prove that mangy little kid was hers, could they? She gunned the car even harder. She would get out of this stinking town and build a life elsewhere. She smiled darkly to herself. It was time for Constance to get out the hell out of Alballa once and for all.
Yakko felt like his lungs would explode as he ran as hard as he could all the way back to the liquor store. He saw a flash of blue behind a house nearby, and instantly recognized it as Wakko's uniform. Yakko cut through the front yard and found Wakko frantically searching everywhere for some sign of his son. Wakko looked up to see his brother jogging towards him.
"What're you doing?" Wakko screamed. "You're going to get busted!"
"Then we'll get busted together!" Yakko panted as he put his hand on Wakko's shoulder and looked in his eyes. "I'm not going to leave you again."
A shiver in the bushes ahead of them sent Wakko flying into the brush, and came out a moment later holding Harpo in his arms. He lifted Harpo into the air and smiled. "I thought I'd lost you, buddy!" he said with relief. Harpo, for the first time in many months, let shine a brilliant smile that made Wakko laugh in delight. "I found you!" Wakko held him close. "And I won't ever leave you again..."
Suddenly a thick arm dressed in blue shot through the fence and grabbed hold of Wakko's clothes. Yakko immediately recognized the three lines on the sleeve as police insignia and grabbed Wakko's arm. "Run for it!" he hissed, trying to drag Wakko away from the spot.
"No," Wakko said resolutely, setting Harpo down. "They'd come for all of us then." Wakko took the gun out of his pocket and laid it gently on the ground in front of him as three officers emerged from behind the fence. "These two had nothing to do with it, officers," Wakko said calmly, not breaking his gaze with Yakko. "You can ask the owner. It was just me."
"Sounds like a confession to me," one of the officers said, gruffly turning Wakko around and placing him in handcuffs. Wakko gently pushed Harpo in the direction of Yakko with his knee. Yakko grabbed hold of the little boy's hand.
"If you need a good lawyer, Wakko," Yakko said, picking Harpo up and holding him close, "then I could recommend a few good ones who owe me a favor and would work cheap…"