DREW

When the cartoon stripper winked at me, she gave me a look that seemed to imply that maybe she were the same person as the human.

I dismissed it as stage trickery, and cartoon stage trickery at that.

My mouth hung open as I watched the black haired beauty climb back up on stage.

My heart beat out of my chest-literally. A Valentine heart, just like The Mask. I guess it was a feature of the tux.

When my heart hit them, the Car-X birds, who had been hiding in my breast pocket, burst out in a frantic cloud of feathers, similar to what they do in commercials.

The deejay had been playing techno music while the girl sidled off to dance on one of the poles, but that soundtrack changed to Solsbury Hill by Peter Gabriel as I watched her. Another feature of the suit, I guessed.

Everyone stared at me in annoyance.

The dancer froze, then giggled at me.

Embarrassed, I covered my heart, pressing it back down.

The deejay booth was manned by Elmer Fudd dressed as Cupid. A black cat popped up behind him, knocked him sideways with a mallet, then switched the record on the turntable with techno music.

When my heart threatened to burst out again, but I held it in. Easy enough matter for me, since I always keep my feelings bottled up anyway.

The girl slipped behind a mausoleum, and the curtains fell.

When they came back up, I saw pagodas on stage, and a pair of Anime girls in kimonos with braided hair dancing to Kyoto music, that changed to something electronic with a beat when they stripped to schoolgirl outfits, then less.

I watched for a few minutes, but couldn't sustain an interest. Not after that lap dance.

Now I only wanted her.

"You gonna do the Voodoo girl?" Sneezer whispered to me.

"The idea has crossed my mind," I muttered back.

He handed me a plastic badge on a lanyard that said `Backstage Pass.' "I found it inside a napkin."

I slung the badge around my neck and stood up. "Now we just need to find the back stage."

"We haven't paid for our drinks yet," Sneezer said.

I shrugged. "Okay. Then take care of it. You got the cash..."

Sneezer whistled, and Fifi appeared at our table in a second. "Monsieur?"

"How much for the drinks?" I asked.

"Monsieur's money is not required. Monsieur can thank the gentleman at the next table."

A mustached cat in pinstripes sat between a weasel and a Claw henchman there. She pointed to the feline.

When I made eye contact with the cat, he gave me the sort of look The Godfather gives when someone makes really good business for the mob. Kind of a condescending, wary smirk that seemed to say, `You are a very good tool.'

I smiled with unease. Whatever I had helped him with, whatever I had done to earn his favor, I didn't want to know.

"Hey! Down in front!" A buzzard yelled at me. His companion, Leisure Suit Larry, didn't seem too thrilled, either.

I raised my hands defensively. "Sorry. This is me going, all right?"

I tapped Sneezer on the shoulder. "Leave a tip."

"I don't have a pencil," he said.

"Why do you need a pencil?"

"I'm going to write `don't take any wooden nickels' on a napkin."

I shook my head. "C'mon. Put a buck on the table so we can leave. We're bothering Mr. Buzzard."

"Okay," said Sneezer. "You asked for it."

He took a giant green deer out of his suit, demolishing the table as he set it down.

I thought the skunk would get upset, but she put a leash around it and said, "Merci boucoup," leading it away.

"I'm glad I didn't ask you to give her a five," I groaned.

"You're right," he said. "It takes two to slap hands."

"Buddy," the buzzard said, poking its face into mine, his long neck allowing him to remain seated while doing so. "You're blocking my view. I'm not going to ask you again."

"Hey look," I said, pointing to a random spot behind him. "A dead body!"

The buzzard's head spun around to look. "Where!"

As I quickly slipped away from the demolished table, I came to a sickening realization that there actually was a dead body where I pointed. I could just barely make out the little red Hawaiian shirt with the brown legs poking out.

"So, where's the backstage?" I asked, trying not to think about the crime.

"In the back," Sneezer said.

I smacked my face.

"If monsieur is looking for le back stage," our waitress said behind me. "He should walk this way..."

The skunk cut between the tables, swishing and swinging her hips.

As expected, Sneezer copied her movements, but I preferred not to do the same.

"Tell me," I asked her as we walked. "What's the name of the noid chick?"

"Monsieur is referring to Mademoiselle Amanda Bunny."

"Really?" I said. "She looks...different."

"She does that, monsieur. Madame changes her hair and dyes it, she puts on disguises. It gives her a certain, how you say, mystique, no?"

I swallowed. "Yeah. It definitely does."

We entered a narrow hallway in the back of the club. A concrete corridor, decorated with framed pictures of strippers, who danced suggestively when I examined them.

The strippers ranged from Anime style to Betty Boop.

As I turned a corner, staring at a row of dressing room doors marked with giant stars, I bumped into a red haired figure dressed in a blue top and black skirt.

"Vanessa?" I said.

"Eeep!" she cried, her cat's ears popping out in surprise.

She had been carrying two beers on a tray, which, during this chance encounter, I had managed to knock over and spill.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I keep doing that. I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," she stammered.

"It doesn't look okay," I said. "I'd like to help. You got any towels?"

She shook her head, pulling a wooly mammoth vacuum cleaner out of her skirt pocket.

I chuckled. "Hammer Space."

"Yeah," she said, sopping up the mess with the creature's trunk. "It can be handy some times."

"Has anyone ever explored it? Hammer Space, I mean?"

"I think if you try, you end up beneath the laundromat. Or Snoopy's Doghouse."

"So what are you doing here?" I asked.

She blushed. "I was about to ask you the same question! What are you doing in this sleazy joint?"

"Holli sent me here. Said there was something here that would `blow my mind.' How about you?"

"I work here," she said. "So was your mind blown?"

I swallowed. "I'd say so. Before I came in here, I thought my ex-girlfriend was the only noid in town."

She suddenly looked depressed. "You like her, don't you?"

I gave her an apologetic frown. "I'm sorry. You're...wonderful. Really, you are. But, well, you're a cartoon, and there are rules against us...being together. I should be with my own kind."

For a moment, a black box appeared on her chest, revealing a Valentine's heart. It thudded a few times, then shattered.

The box vanished, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Aww!" I cried. "Don't be like that! We can still be friends!"

I put a hand on her shoulder. "Besides. I'm only going to talk to her. Who's to say she'll even want anything to do with me?"

She brushed my hand away. "Of course...she'll want something to do with you! You're the only human, she's seen for years! She's been waiting all her life for someone like you!"

"Really?" I said. But then I noticed her crestfallen expression, her trembling lips. "C'mon. We can still hang out. Maybe I'll even...find you a boyfriend that's as sweet and intelligent as you."

"I don't want another boyfriend!" she sobbed. "I want you!"

Before I could say a word in protest, she ran into one of the dressing rooms and slammed the door shut.

I tried to follow, but found the door was only a painting, and I couldn't open it.

The wooly mammoth vacuum cleaner trumpeted at me indignantly.

I sighed in frustration, thinking that this was probably for the best. At least in a cartoon, suicide is pretty much impossible.

Okay, so maybe it could happen in a serious cartoon, and Dale wasn't looking so good back behind Mr. Buzzard, but I didn't want to think about that.

I knocked on the dressing room door labeled Amanda Bunny, and Cleo answered. Behind her, I could see a dressing room, with a row of makeup stations with lighted mirrors, dressing screens, and closets full of burlesque outfits, sequins, feathers and frills.

I had to look down to make eye contact with the feline.

The narrow white creature had a martini in one paw, which she sipped before speaking to me. "Can I help you?"

"I'd like to speak to Amanda Bunny."

She rolled her eyes. "Which one? Amanda M or Amanda K?"

I furrowed my brow in puzzlement. "They have the same name?"

She nodded. "We use their initials to avoid confusion. K or M?"

I rubbed my face. "Whichever one is the noid."

She turned and yelled into the room. "Kate!"

Throughout the course of this conversation, my brain had unconsciously been in middle school mode, my eyes tracing a line from the cat's legwarmers to her hips, wandering to other places...

"Didn't you get enough of that when I was up in the cage?"

I forced my eyes upward, to her giant yellow-orange hairdo. "Sorry," I stammered. "I..."

She threw her martini in my face. "Take a picture. It'll last longer." And she stomped out.

When I returned my attention to the dressing room, I gawked open mouthed at what I saw.

From behind a dressing screen appeared a real life human version of the Amanda I knew from the Cool World comics, in all her gorgeous glory.

Shining hazel eyes, golden hair done up in a pair of long pigtails. Her chin was round, her ears large, her nose bulbous but attractively so. Those deep set eyes and that face set off something within me, something I couldn't quite describe. Something...not immediately identifiable with sex, but just as captivating.

And that outfit!

Just like in the comics, she wore a blue-gray suit made of rubber, around her head, a pair of glistening rubber rabbit ears.

Her top, made of that same material, came all the way up to her chin, but a heart shaped section lay open at the chest, exposing her cleavage. It had short princess sleeves, and the skirt-like bottom portion stopped above her waist, showcasing a shiny blue-gray thong.

Garters hidden somewhere under the top supported a pair of mid-thigh length high heeled boots of the same color.

"I heard you had a thing for noids," she said in a sultry voice.