The desert glows with muted colors. For most, the word "desert" conjures up a wasteland of sand and brush, but for the dwellers of the badlands of the world, the horizon burst with purples, reds and blues. Mountains in the distance are a pale lavender, while the sky is a deeper turquoise than one who has not seen it cannot imagine. At night, oranges and deep maroons streak their way across skies larger than the scope of most people's imaginations.
A stark white building rose from the flat ground like some strange desert weed that had grown there. This was the infamous prison especially for toons, inconveniently located in the middle of the western desert. Harpo saw it loom up over the horizon long before the stolen car made its way to the back of the structure. A jail break was something he'd only ever seen on TV, and to be participating in one wasn't something Harpo could honestly say he thought he'd ever do. But here he was, bouncing along in the backseat with his estranged father, tearing across a flat plain of desert in an old convertible Wakko had hotwired back in Toontown, being driven by a curly haired, swearing human in the front seat.
"That's it! Right there!" Wakko yelled above the wind to Red. Red immediately slammed on the breaks and the car came to a full stop.
"Look, we got to have a plan of action. We can't just show up and say, 'Hello, we're here to break a dangerous toon criminal out of jail. Could you please get out of the way?'" Red looked again at the foreboding structure. "You sure we can do this?"
"Sure. Never thought I'd have to use this again, but never say never, eh?" Wakko said with a smile, pulling a large sack out of the trunk. "My old gag bag. Never used to go anywhere without it." He hulked it into the backseat and began to rummage through it. Harpo watched him with a hint of curiosity. "Should have everything in here we're going to need. Rope, grappling hook, crowbar, explosives…"
"Explosives!" Red cried. "Are you insane? We gotta be quiet, man! I don't want to go to jail! And we're a convenient place for that! All they gotta do is strap some handcuffs on us and toss us in!"
"Toons aren't quiet, buddy," Wakko said, not looking up from his gag bag. "I'm sorry, but it's the only way we can conceivably do this. Those walls ain't thin, you know what I mean?"
"So what do you propose we do?"
Wakko emerged triumphantly from his sack holding a couple of huge sticks of dynamite. "I say we blast, then run like hell."
Red shook his head and turned off the car. "Toons…" he muttered.
Wakko looked down at Harpo seriously. "Harpo, you stay here. This isn't going to be easy and so the less people we have to worry about, the better. Ok?"
"Ok Dad," Harpo said, looking up at his father earnestly. He bit his lip and said quickly, "Dad? Look…be careful, ok?"
Wakko smiled and nodded. "We'll try."
Moments later Red and Wakko had disappeared from Harpo's view, running like mad towards the white structure. He sighed and rested his chin on the door frame. The night was eerily silent. It wasn't like Toontown, where there was always the backdrop of music or laughter. It wasn't even like Alballa, with the constant din of the factory's massive machines churning long into the night. Harpo listened carefully, but there was not a sound to be heard; it was almost as if life didn't exist here. It was hard to imagine that just a quarter mile away in the white building there were hundreds of toons locked up in tiny cells.
Harpo was ripped from his thoughts by a gigantic explosion off in the distance. Compared to the deathly silence of the moments previous, it sounded like the entire world had imploded, and Harpo found himself shaking and clinging to the seatback in shock. His heart racing, he climbed into the front seat and squinted into the distance, trying to catch a glimpse of running figures. He heard them before he saw them, his father's voice shouting, "Start the car, Harpo! Start the car!"
He immediately sat down and tried to turn the car on, only to find that the battery was near dead and the wires sticking out from under the dash were beginning to spark. Trying not to panic, Harpo jammed the wires together in a half-frantic manner, praying the car would turn over. The shouts were coming nearer and he could hear blaring sirens in the background. Just when he thought he was going to burst into frustrated tears the engine roared to life. Harpo sat up just in time to see three darkened figures leap into the car, with one of them shouting, "Step on it! Quick!"
"B-But I'm only twelve!" he protested.
"Go!" came the booming, unanimous cry from the passengers. Harpo reacted instinctively, slamming his foot down on the accelerator as far as it would go. The car spun its wheels for just a second before taking off down the dirt road, spewing mud and pebbles in its wake. Harpo could hear guards' voices in the background and he silently urged the convertible to go faster. No one spoke for a tense ten minutes until they were sure they weren't being followed by the jailors, then a voice unfamiliar to Harpo let out a thundering laugh.
"We made it! We fucking made it!" the voice shouted above the growl of the engine. "The wild boys of Toontown pull off another amazing victory!"
"It ain't a victory 'til we reach the state line!" Red's nervous voice replied. He climbed over to the front seat. "Ok, Harp, I'll take over." Harpo switched places with Red and turned to see a rough looking, blue-eared rabbit sitting next to his father in the back seat.
"Good job, Harp. Knew you could do it," Wakko said, mussing his son's hair affectionately. He pointed to the blue rabbit. "Harpo, this is Buster Bunny. He's my best friend."
"Nice to meet you," Harpo replied, feeling it was strange to hear polite words coming out of his mouth in such an unusual setting.
"So this is Harpo." Buster smiled widely. "Kid, your dad only has good things to say about you. You must be somethin' special."
Harpo smiled sheepishly. "Thanks," he whispered.
"So what are we up to, hm?" Buster said brightly. "What's first? A little gambling? Few drinks? Point me in the direction of women and liquor, and I'll be fine."
"Treasure," Wakko said simply. "We're heading south, Buster. My sister's waiting for us. You and I are going to do a little demolition job, and if we do it well enough, you'll never have to worry about where your gambling money is coming from ever again."
"Yeah? What's the kid doing here, then?" Buster said, throwing a sideways glance at Harpo. "This doesn't sound like playtime, man. Isn't this a little dangerous to be a family affair?"
"I'm here because I want to be," Harpo piped up. "I…I really don't have anywhere else to go at the moment."
Wakko looked at his son a little strangely but didn't ask questions. He was always of the opinion that a person wouldn't talk about anything until they were good and ready. He nodded. "Harp's a tough kid. He's been through a lot. Nothing doing for a little Caribbean sunshine, eh?" he laughed.
"It's a whole different world down there, kid," Red told him from the front seat. "You have to be absolutely sure. This is a dangerous game we're playing here.There's no jet plane home, got it?"
Harpo pursed his lips. "I know. But I want to go. I know I'm young. But I'm strong. And I'm smart. I promise I won't let you guys down."
Wakko smiled. "There you go. The kid wants to go."
Red nodded. "All right then. Next stop: Little Trouble Island!"