Following Jessica's lead, I walked to the end of the alleyway, turning right at the corner.

It now appeared to be daytime, despite the fact the alleyway was dark behind me, with the moon and stars shining above.

To my left, across the street, I could see a deli, a dress shop, a cheese factory, and a store that said Acme across the front window. To my right stood a flower shop, and, a few feet ahead, a cafe called The Spot.

As I walked, I noticed I had a soundtrack. Everywhere I went, I heard generic classical music playing, composed, I assume, by one of those uninspired hacks who just throw compositions together to fit a scene in a cartoon show.

What made it worse were the ever present sounds of screaming, explosions, and a myriad of other `humorous' effects. The result was akin to the monotonous loop of incidental music you get when you leave a 3D video game about cartoons running while you microwave a burrito.

I stared as a cartoon old woman pushed a stroller past me, a stroller bearing a large black cat with a baby bonnet and milk bottle.

I didn't see Jessica anywhere. I stopped in my tracks.

I peered through the windows of the flower shop, but I could see nothing but Dot from the Animaniacs and the white bespectacled rabbit from all those Sweet Pickles books busily pruning flowers.

In the cafe, I only saw a bunch of weird looking animated characters eating lunch.

I tried to cross the street and look in the other windows, but the moment my feet touched the pavement, a hundred cars and semis appeared out of nowhere and tried to run me down. They of course vanished just as quickly when I got back on the sidewalk.

I still think this street exists in both worlds. I'm certain I spent my freshman year in high school wearing a cast over my arm because of it.

"What's the hold up?" Sneezer said impatiently.

I felt like telling him to go get some cheese across the street, but, well, I would have been in jail if it hadn't been for him, so I decided to be nice.

"Sorry, pal," I groaned. "If you're wanting to see some action, you're going to have to wait. I don't know where the hell my girlfriend is."

Sneezer paused. "Is she wearing any perfume?"

I shook my head. "Only what she was born with." Which is pretty sexy by itself, I reflected.

The mouse frowned. "That does make it difficult."

We stared at our surroundings in silence for a moment.

"Yo. Sneeze..." I began.

Of course the mouse sprayed from his mouth and nostrils, blowing out the windows on a car and breaking a fire extinguisher so that it sprayed water into the air.

"Bless me," said the mouse.

"Good Lord," I groaned. "It's just as bad as going into the flower shop and saying `Polka Dot.'"

On cue, the Animaniac popped out the door of her establishment, dancing to accordion music.

I cleared my throat. "Sneezer. Have you seen my wallet laying around anywhere? Like somewhere on the hotel floor?"

Sneezer pulled a real leather wallet out of his diaper. "You mean this?"

"Yeah," I said. "I think that's it. Open it up."

The mouse did so, looking inside, but he didn't allow me to see the contents. "I opened it," he said.

I groaned. "Show me."

He closed the wallet. "Why."

I was getting a little peeved. If I had been animated, my face probably would have turned an actual red color. "Because. How do I know you didn't just pilfer someone else's wallet and claim that it's mine?"

"And how do I know that you're really going to find your girlfriend and bone her?"

I smacked my face. "Who else would I bone here? You think I'm going to grab that old granny over there and go to town?"

Sneezer stared at me like I might. "That would be...interesting..."

Luckily, the old bag was down the block, and as funny as it would have been, she didn't come back and slap me with her umbrella.

I rolled my eyes. "The point is, Jessica is the only human in town. There's nobody else here I'd really want to bang."

"I can think of a few doodles," Sneezer said.

"Would you actually care if I did them instead of my girlfriend?"

Sneezer shook his head. "As long as I can watch."

"Fine," I said. "Whatever. You still got a front row seat, if and when I...whatever. Let me see the wallet."

"No," he said.

"Why not."

"Because you didn't say please."

I sighed. "Pretty please with sugar on top. Show me the damn wallet."

Sneezer showed me the back.

"The inside please."

"You promise you'll do her?"

My cheeks flushed hot with anger. "Eagerly."

Sneezer flashed the interior, then closed it again.

It was enough. The placement of the debit and credit cards was exactly how I remembered it, my driver's license probably concealed behind the Price Chopper card.

"There," said the mouse. "You saw it. Now get going."

"I'd be glad to oblige, but I don't know where she got off to. If you know something I don't, now is the time to tell me."

The mouse paused for a minute, looking around. He was just as clueless as I was.

Noticing the bulb nosed head of Inspector Gadget's police chief peeking out of a flower bed, I crept closer to him.

I knew what abuse the guy received on a daily basis, so I decided to cut him some slack.

Pretending to smell some flowers, I whispered, "Pardon me, chief. Have you seen a non animated woman walking through here? Blue outfit? Kind of hard to miss?"

He nodded toward a place a little further up the street.

"Thanks," I said. "Your secret's safe with me."

Unfortunately, that's what the Inspector always said before he blew him up. I forgot all about that one.

Looking horrified, `Chief' shrunk back into the foliage.

I marched a block ahead, narrowly avoiding a collision with an orange cat running with a giant fish in its paws, and the angry owner of the fish market it stole from.

I felt like tripping the feline, but figured he would only hang around and harass me, so I let it go.

The chief's directions weren't exactly helpful. I found myself staring at storefronts again.

A pet store.

A barber shop, complete with singing quartet.

A detective agency.

Detective agency!

Although I was sure I'd regret it, I knocked on the door, and a dog in a trenchcoat let me in.

"Whatcha doin'?" Sneezer asked as I stepped across the threshold.

"What does it look like? Obviously I need someone to help me find my girlfriend." I reached into my pocket and frowned. "...And if you want a show, you got two options. Give me back my wallet, or come along and pay the bill."

"You have a wallet," he said.

"Well, okay. I'll try using that first, but if it doesn't work..."

Sneezer nodded. "Don't worry Drew. I'm not going away until you give me a show! You promised!"

I gawked at him. "I never told you my name!"

He shrugged. "It's on your driver's license."

"So you actually do have the damn thing! Thank God!"

The agency looked like something out of one of those old film noir detective movies, kind of a late 1930's era type office design, the sort of place that you'd see Bogart stomping around in. No computers, just some file cabinets, an old desk with one of those lamps with the lozenge shaped shades, and a squeaky ceiling fan with wooden blades.

An unclothed rabbit with shark teeth leaned back in a chair decorated by a gun holster, puffing on a cigar. A second desk, featuring a Singer typewriter, apparently belonged to the dog, for there were no sexy secretaries present.

The room must have been a bit dusty, for I noticed the mouse sniffling and rubbing its nose.

The moment he waddled close past the dog's desk, loud blaring alarms went off, and red and white lights flashed from the walls and ceiling.

The dog pointed to a sign.

"No Sneezers allowed!"

Sneezer burst into tears. "I just wanted to come along with Drew so I could watch him do the nasty with his girlfriend!"

"Awww..." the dog said, giving him a little hug. "Don't cry little guy!" He patted the mouse on the back.

"Don't let him fool you!" the rabbit barked. "Those sneezes are dangerous!"

"Wait outside," I told the mouse. "I'll only be a few minutes. It'll be fine."

Sam pushed Sneezer out the door like he were a wheeled dolly. The mouse then stood on the sidewalk, watching us through the doorway.

I turned to face the detectives.

"Sam and Max, I presume."

The rabbit suddenly jumped over the desk, grabbing me around the throat like he intended to choke me.

"How do you know who we are!"

"Uh..." I gasped, trying to think of an excuse better than "Saw you on DVD."

"It's written on the front window," the dog said cheerily.

"Oh." The rabbit let me go with an embarrassed grin.

Tee hee, I thought with annoyance.

Up until this point, I had been wondering why I had stopped watching cartoons, but now I remembered. Slapstick had ceased to be funny the moment I started high school and people started shoving me into lockers.

"You can tell a lot about a man by the way he strangles you!" the dog exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes.

"So," the rabbit said. "What can I do ya for?"

"I know I'm going to regret this," I said. "But I'd like to make an inquiry regarding your services..."

"Certainly!" Max grinned. "Inquiring minds want to know!"

Already I was suspecting why their show got canceled.

I dug in my pockets. "How much do you normally charge?"

"It's fr-" the dog began, but Max slapped a paw over his mouth.

"How much you got?"

"Uh..." I stammered, digging out the wallet.

I handed him a twenty.

The rabbit took it and frowned.

"It's vintage currency," I said. "It's actually worth a lot more than twenty."

"We'll take-"

The rabbit silenced the dog again. "This is noid currency. We're not allowed to accept it. It's the law."

"Noid?" I said.

Max poked me hard in the chest. "You. You're a noid."

"You're right about that," I said. "I'm not exactly happy."

Suddenly there was a psychiatrist's couch in the corner of the room, and he was shoving me onto it. The funny thing was, the couch had been two dimensional before I landed on it.

In a flash, the detectives were dressed like Sigmund Freud.

The dog took out a notepad, jotting down a note. "Not exactly happy...And how long have you felt this way?"

I rolled my eyes. "Awhile."

The dog wrote something on his pad. "I see."

"I think it all started the moment I stepped in here and tried to ask you guys for help."

"Does it bother you when I psychoanalyze you?"

"Yes," I groaned.

"I see."

Not wanting to be there all day, I decided to appease their swelled egos. "You know, I think I've felt this way before. In fact, I've been like this ever since your show got canceled."

"Ooooh!" The dog furiously scribbled this on the pad.

The rabbit stared at the notes. "A breakthrough already?" He threw the notepad away. "Remarkable! Sam, my friend, we're in the wrong business!"

"All right," I sighed. "Fine. I'm a `noid'."

"Would you like more time on the couch?" the rabbit asked.

"No," I said.

The dog took out a second pad, jotting down notes. "I see."

"Look. I'm trying to find someone, and I thought that maybe since you're detectives, you might be able to help me." I almost said "call me crazy," but I decided that would only aggravate the situation.

The dog frowned at me. "You wouldn't be trying to find someone to have sex with, would you?"

Before I could respond, Max said, "Noids do not have sex with doodles."

"It's the oldest law in Cool World," said Sam.

I reddened. "Uh...does that mean what I think it does?"

"What, that flesh and blood human beings can't copulate with cartoon characters?" Max gave me a nervous laugh. "Whoever gave you that idea?"

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, I said, "Look, I'm actually looking for another...noid. I just want to know if she came through here and where she is now."

The two let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Haven't seen her," said Max. "Do you have any pictures?"

I shook my head. "But she should be really easy to find. She's presumably the only other real person here, and she's wearing animated lingerie."

The dog jotted down some notes. "I see."

Max slapped him in the face. "Go back to detective mode!" he hissed.

"I thought you said we were in the wrong business-"

Max covered the dog's mouth, addressing me. "We still haven't received payment for our services."

I sighed, thinking that they really didn't deserve any payment at this point. "Don't you ask for that after you do the job?"

"It's a retainer fee. You pay the rest of it after."

"I have currency, but you don't-"

"I'm sorry, sir. We cannot legally accept noid currency."

I frowned, thinking about the stack of daffy duck money in the hotel. "Never mind. I'll...try to find her myself."

I knew the dog probably would work pro bono if I found the right angle of persuasion, but I didn't know where to start.

"Will this help?"

I looked down and saw Sneezer handing me a stack of unnaturally bright green dollar bills.

"How...?" I stammered. And then I stopped myself. "You're a cartoon. I don't care. Thank you, yes, that money will help."

"No Sneezers allowed!" Max yelled.

"Wait, Max!" Sam cried. "He has money!"

Max snatched the stack out of the mouse's paws, thumbing through it, counting the dollars.

"Excellent. Fifty smackers!"

A hand shot out of the little circle in the center of the bill and slapped him repeatedly.

And then one of the bills made the sound of a cow.

"Moolah!" he kissed the bills. "You are so beautiful! I love you!" He kissed them some more.

I just sighed. "The woman. Can you help me or not?"

"All right," Max said. "First order of business. We need to set you down with our sketch artist."

"I said she's the only other human in town! You don't need a sketch artist!"

Sam muttered something to Max.

"What's that?" I said, suddenly suspicious.

"Nothing! Nothing!" Max said with a sheepish grin.

"Is there...something you're not telling me?"

"No," said Max.

"Yes," Sam said, but then changed it to "No" when Max elbowed him.

"Are there...other `noids' in town?"

"Um...maybe?"

"Like who?"

"You wouldn't know him," Max blurted.

"So he's a guy. Surely that narrows it down."

The two seemed relieved that I took their statement at face value.

"This other noid," I said. "Is he Professor Heinreich Bubelstein?"

They stared at me, then each other, then said yes in such a way that made me think they were lying.

The dog was still poised with a pencil and pad.

"Fine," I said. "She's white, curly haired. Blonde...and she's wearing cartoon underwear. Blue. Said it used to belong to Holli Would."

"Holli Would!" the detectives cried in unison.

"Yeah," I said. "Does that name mean anything to you?"

I paused. "Okay, I guess she must exist here, right?"

"Are you sure you're not trying to break the oldest rule in Cool World?" Sam asked.

I shook my head. "I stopped lusting after cartoon characters when I turned twelve."

The seemed visibly relieved.

"Look. I don't know anything about this Holli except she was associated with my dad in some way, and she's in all the Cool World comic books."

The dog stared at the rabbit. "Dad?"

"I'm Drew Deebes," I said.

They gasped in shock.

"Another Deebes!" The rabbit was so mortified that it came out in a stutter.

"Y-you shouldn't be here," said Sam. "You really shouldn't."

"Why?" I asked. "What did my dad do?"

"Uh, how about breaking Cool World's oldest law?"

"Gross," I muttered. "You're telling me about my dad's sex life."

"It gets worse," said the rabbit. "He unleashed the entire doodle world upon an unsuspecting human populace."

I swallowed hard. "That shit was real? The thing about me being a mouse scaring my elephant mother? That was real?"

"Um...maybe?"

The rabbit was now sitting low in his desk, looking very suspicious indeed.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Sheepish grin. "Nothing! Just...trying to work out a kink in my neck!"

"Yeah," the dog reassured me. "Just some...back exercises. There's really nothing under that desk that would concern you. There certainly isn't any silent alarm that summons the Cool World Police Department! He's just stretching his back!"

"You're calling the cops," I said, not believing what I was hearing.

"Uh...maybe?"

Sneezer tugged on my pant leg. "C'mon, Drew. Let's go."

I quickly marched to the door.

I pushed it open, then froze. "Wait. What about the money I gave you?"

"Thanks!" Max said. "We'll put it to good use!"

I smacked my head. "Never mind! God, this place is so aggravating!"

The moment I stepped out on the sidewalk and marched a few steps up the street, I was tackled to the brickwork of a vegetarian poodle clipping service.

I stared up at my assailant, a broad shouldered figure in a blue suit with blank circles for eyes and a stylish brown bouffant.

"Where do you think you're going, shithead?"

I raised my hands defensively. "Officer, I don't want any trouble."

"Shut up," he barked. "Sargent Harris, Cool World PD! No noids allowed! It's the law!"

"I'm getting a noid right now," I deadpanned.

I received a punch to the face for my troubles.

The funny thing is, I didn't get birdies. A bunch of dollar signs circled my head.

I glanced back, but saw no sign of Sneezer anywhere. Some friend he was! "Look. I didn't see a `No Noids' sign back in that old dusty hotel room or I probably wouldn't have come."

"Well you can just go back to that old dusty hotel room, `cause you're not welcome here."

"I'd be happy to oblige, but the door is gone. I'm stuck."

"Well, find a way to get unstuck, or you're going to be spending some quality time in jail."

"Did you give my girlfriend this much grief when she came here?"

"What girlfriend?"

"Blonde. Non-animated. Wearing cartoon lingerie."

"Haven't seen her."

"Look. Harris. Can you cut me a break? Let me grab my girlfriend and show me out the door? You find me a door and I won't walk, I'll run away from this place. I promise."

"What's her name?"

"Jessica."

"Last name?"

I had a brain fart. "I forgot, but it's not Rabbit. She's not a cartoon, and she's crazy. Should stick out like a sore thumb, right?"

"Speaking of names, I never caught yours."

"Didn't you get that information from the silent alarm? I'm Drew. Drew Deebes."

"Damn! I knew you looked familiar!"

He pulled my arms behind my back, clamping something on my wrists. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that they were literal handcuffs, a pair of rough looking five fingered hands that gripped my wrists like regular metal ones.

"Oh. That's real cute. They actually look like hands."

"I'm not laughing."

"Neither am I," I sighed. "Look. Whatever beef you have against my dad, leave me out of it. The asshole was absent from my childhood and most my adult life. Whatever you think I am, you're wrong. I am nothing like him."

"I'd like to agree with you, but I'm more of a nature rather than nurture type of guy."

"Would it help to tell you that I can't draw anything more complicated than a stick figure?"

He frowned. "Bullshit."

"I'm an accountant. But think what you want. You want to throw me in jail, fine, whatever. But if you find my girlfriend, throw her in with me. She's the nut that actually figured out how to get us here."

"I'll do that." But the look on his cartoon face said he wouldn't.

"Oh, and if you see my dad anywhere, punch him for me."

Harris raised an eyebrow. "You know, I'm starting to like you."

"Enough to change your mind about the jail?"

"Not...that much. Not yet. Play your cards right, though, and maybe I'll think about it."

I was led to a cardboard cutout of a police car. It was to scale, but it puzzled me to no end.

"What is this?" I said. "Some kind of gag?"

"If you don't shut up, I'll gag you."

Harris touched a key to the lock, and the two dimensional representation of a vehicle turned into a brightly colored Crown Vic with flashing lights on the top.

He threw open the back door. "Get in."

I obeyed.

Standard cop car, but it was all paint. Even the fence between the front and back was paint. Very...strong paint, as I discovered when I tested it.

Harris started up the car, pulling out from the curb. "How well do you know your father?"

"I don't," I said. "He was in jail for manslaughter, there was a divorce, and then, after...whatever it was with all the cartoon elephants running around Vegas...I haven't seen or heard from him since."

"God," Harris sighed. "And I thought he was an asshole before."

"You seem...unusually...level headed for a cartoon cop."

Harris laughed. "Flattery will get you nowhere, my friend."

I glanced out the window. Like any cartoon vehicle, the scenery was on an endless loop of identical looking buildings and shrubs.

"I'm serious," I said. "This place is driving me nuts with all its stupid corny jokes. You're the only one I can actually hold a real conversation with."

"That's because I used to be human," he said.

I stared at him in disbelief. "How is that?"

"Your dad's doodle bitch pushed me off the roof of the Union Plaza hotel."

"So why are you a cartoon? Shouldn't you be dead?"

"If a doodle kills you, you become a doodle."

"Wait," I said. "I was just in that hotel. My girlfriend kept rambling about a spike of power. Something some German professor came up with back in the forties or something."

Harris slammed on the brakes, pressing his face against the fence. "Where's the spike now!"

I shrugged. "I don't know. We only found a secret room. That's how we got here. Well, that and my girlfriend's animated underwear."

He turned back around. "You better pray to God that nobody finds that spike."

He took his foot off the brake. "What's with the tiny outfit? Your mom give you your brother's hand-me-downs?"

I answered, "My non-animated girlfriend took my clothes and locked them in our suite, along with the key. I had to make do with what I could find."

"Riight," he chuckled. "Tell me something. If you hate your old man so much, why did you keep his last name?"

"Laziness," I said. "Changing your name is too much work. Plus I never liked the name Odum."

"And Dweebs is fine," he muttered.

"It's better than Odum. That's all I'm saying." I shook my head, poking my foot at the painted floorboards. "Do you know what happened to my dad?"

There was a pregnant pause before he answered.

"Not a clue."

And then, after a longer pause, "If I were you, I'd forget him."

I silently stared at the back of Harris's head. The lack of artistic detail made it not worth staring at.

"I think you know something, Officer Harris."

"And I think you should forget about it."

"But-"

"I said forget it!" he snapped.

"All right!" I grumbled. "Shit, never mind!"

"You seem like a good kid," he said. "That asshole will take you down the wrong path. Honestly, you're lucky not to know him. The man never knew when to keep his Johnson in his pants."

"Are you saying I should call you dad?"

"Hell no." The cop sighed. "What I'm saying is that you should be your own man. Let sleeping dogs lie. That's all I'm saying."

"Is he here? I imagine he must be if you're warning me about him like-"

"I'm not going to tell you again. Forget about him!"

"Fine."

I gave up.

The vehicle pulled up along the curb of a police station, and we got out.

The station was a tall glass and concrete edifice, occupied by an illogical combination of characters. Disney's Bonkers, that quasi-bobcat-ish thing in blue marched past us as we stepped through the door.

And then we were marching in between the cast of Future Cops, the Native American Marshall Bravestarr, a London bobby, and the cop that advertises Cookie Crisp.

Being non-animated, I got stared at, by everyone from Inch High Private Eye to Dick Tracy and a generic Scooby Doo cop.

A lot of staring.

Bonker's female partner was so distracted that she accidentally bumped into me, spilling papers all over the floor.

She smiled at me, her face turning a bright pink.

"Forget it, Ms. Wright," Harris scolded. "He's off limits."

Everyone was whispering behind my back, literally. The sound effect guy from Police Academy was even making weird noises.

We approached the check-in desk, manned by a purple hippopotamus in uniform.

A second later, I got smacked in the head with a book.

Yeah. That's a pun.

"This is so stupid," I muttered.

A cigar smoking spider with a bowler waddled up to Sargent Harris, muttering something to him.

A few moments later, I got shoved into a steel gray elevator, accompanied by Harris, his spider friend, the Chinese stereotype Kung Fu guy from Dick Tracy, and...the trenchcoat wearing cartoon cat from Last Action Hero.

I glanced at the spider, peering at his vest and his black abdomen. Knowing something about the various breeds, I asked. "Say, are you a house spider, or a mouse spider?"

"Neither!" It shouted angrily. "I'm a cop!"

"Oh great," I groaned. "He made it funny."

This group led me through a cheesy looking jail. Unrealistically wide bars, prisoners in horizontal stripes playing harmonica, the standard ball and chain attached to their ankles.

One of the harmonica players was a bony bearded man with a leg so thin that he could easily slip it through his leg shackle if he wanted to.

Lots of familiar faces. Inspector Clouseau, the Hamburglar, Wiley Coyote, Ren and Stimpi, the dimwitted muscular thugs and tough looking bulldogs who always show up in these kinds of stories.

I was not taken to one of these types of jail cells. Instead, I was taken to `maximum security.'

As we neared the end of the cell block, a cartoon Jeffrey Dahmer rubbed his stomach and moaned, "I can't believe I ate the whole thing."

Harris led me to an `isolation' cell a few rows down from there, basically a big steel box, with a tiny barred window to allow for light, and a slot for food. No toilet, of course. People in cartoons seldom urinate, hardly ever shit.

Harris gave me a forceful shove, sending me sprawling on the metal floor.

"Did you notice that I didn't disagree when you called my dad an asshole?"

The cop laughed. "You know, I think I do like you."

Harris's handcuffs let go of my wrists and hurried back to him like Thing from the Addams Family.

"So you'll let me go?"

Harris snorted. "Maybe in a few years."

He slammed the door shut with a resounding clang.

"You're both assholes," I muttered.

"I heard that!" came the muffled reply.

Then there was only silence.