I didn't see Amanda or Dane anywhere. I guessed they went out shopping together or something.

I frowned at the cat in disgust. "You put your hand on my ass."

"Only because it was funny."

"You're funny, all right. But it's a different kind of funny."

Riffraff narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sure I like what you're implying."

"And I'm not sure I like you touching my butt!"

"You want me to add an additional year to your service?" he threatened.

"No," I said. "I think you'd enjoy it a little too much."

"You were female when you were sleeping."

I blushed, realizing he was probably right. "Sure I was."

Riffraff glared at me. "All right, wise guy. For that, I'm going to think up some especially difficult tasks for you to do. Come with me. You're going to be very busy."

"Wait," I said. "What about breakfast? Or a shower?"

He shook his head. "You should have thought about that before you started questioning my sexuality."

I followed him out the door, all the while looking around for the girls.

We bumped into Sneezer as he was coming out of an elevator...dressed in a silver suit.

"You fell down the bottomless pit again," I said. "Didn't you? How did you get out this time?"

"Actually, I fell into the Buck Rogers opening sequence."

I rolled my eyes as Twinkie the robot popped out of the elevator, going, "Bleebideebideep."

The Cat-Illac was parked in front of the building, with Hector and Cleo occupying the seats. I supposed their associates were taking cat naps.

Riff led me to the driver's side door, gesturing for me to get in. "You are now our official chauffeur."

I shrugged indifferently. "Nothing new there. "

It wasn't. Only the vehicle had changed. Thanks to our little tour through Las Vegas, I even had a driver's license in my pocket, in the unlikely event that I actually needed it in Toon Town.

Riffraff waved Hector out of the driver's seat, and I took his place, grinning as I stared at the controls.

Classic Cadillac setup, well, except for the seat ejection button, the submersible and boat modes, and other strange features.

"I've always wanted to drive this thing," I said, rubbing my hands. "Are you insured for this, or do you need to revise your plan?"

Riffraff reddened. "I...um, er...that is..."

And then I hear someone knocking on the car door.

Looking down, I see a green gecko with a suitcase. "May I be of some assistance?"

I rolled my eyes.

"We don't actually own this vehicle," Riffraff said.

"Oh," the creature sighed in disappointment. "Well, once you do own a car, truck, van or SUV, let me know, and I'll insure it." Then he offered me a card.

It was just the 1-800 number and the web address.

Before I could pocket the card, Riffraff jumped out and grabbed the gecko, shoving him into the glove compartment. "Problem solved."

I started up the engine, shifting into drive.

The streets of Cool World were convoluted and confusing. In fact, Convoluted Street turned into Confusing at the corner of Crazy and Ridiculous. I needed Riffraff's directions to figure out where I was going.

We rolled up in front of a grocery store called Dinosaucer's Market, which was just a regular grocery store manned by alien dinosaurs.

Outside the sliding door, Riffraff whispered to me about shoplifting from the place, but I told him about Sneezer's stash of Daffy Ducks, and he changed his mind, telling me to go grab a cart.

You very rarely see grocery stores in cartoon shows. The most notable ones were on Heathcliff, South Park and Dinosaucers. They might have had one on King of the Hill, but I never watched more than a couple episodes, so I don't know. For this reason, the place was rather dry and uninteresting, not that I complained. I pushed the buggy around as Riffraff piled it full of items, milk, fish and meat, most prominently.

The feminine products aisle was rather small, consisting only of nail care and makeup items. Judging by last night's `auditor', I supposed that doodles didn't menstruate, or douche, or require anything else that you'd find in a feminine products aisle...or an adult incontinence aisle.

When we got to the counter, Riffraff didn't ask Sneezer for the dough. He just reached into the mouse's silver suit and handed the money to the armored brontosaurus behind the counter.

The dinosaur used an alien ray gun to pack all our items into a small box that shouldn't have held all those items without exploding. I suppose, because of the device, it made more sense than most other things in Cool World.

We put the box in the trunk, and I was directed to drive back to the junkyard, apparently located between spooky Elm Street and Sinister Street (which, I was told, extended forever, just block upon block of identical looking buildings, defying all laws of geography and logistics).

When I passed through the main gate, Leroy gave me a low growl and said, "Did you get that loan taken care of?"

"Almost," I lied. "But the guy was a shark. I promise I'll pay for it when I find a place that's legit."

Sadly, I came to the realization that I probably would have to find such a place.

He glared at me in annoyance. "While you're doing that, you should also find another home for those vermin you're driving around. This isn't a campground."

I figured he'd change his mind for the right amount of money, but didn't want to offer something I didn't have. "Okay. I'll keep my eyes peeled."

The dog stared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"What," I said.

"Nothing," he chuckled. "It's just, that's the first time I've heard someone saying that without literally peeling their eyes." He laughed some more, slapping his knee. "Hilarious!"

Instead of peeling my eyes, I rolled them, steering the car back into the junkyard.

The cats lived in a tall mountain of junk topped with an airplane fuselage. We parked downhill from a bunch of interconnected air conditioner ducts, i.e. the bathtub luge they show on the beginning of every episode of Heathcliff.

The interior I can sum up on one word: Ghetto. Or maybe Sanford and Sons. The floors looked all cobbled together, the door and window frames lopsided, the couch was curbateur, some discard from the dump, I suppose, with a spring sticking out of it. In the corner stood bathtub toboggan with an ugly curtain around it, and a beat up mattress with a crooked bed frame.

It was an apartment, of sorts. Off to one side, I could see a short hallway leading to a sketchy looking staircase that probably would collapse the moment I stepped on it. I glimpsed another room below.

You would have thought that Sneezer would be in danger as a mouse among cats, but nobody bothered him. He just relaxed on the couch like he lived there.

Despite its small size, our grocery box weighed a ton. I lugged it up into the airplane, to a small refrigerator in the corner of the place, wondering where they got the electricity from when I found the interior of the appliance chilled and lit up.

Deciding it didn't matter, I opened the box. It exploded like that can of snakes people get from novelty gag shops.

Clearly that the volume of the box exceeded the capacity of the fridge and the box, which confused me when I tried to put things away. When I gently set the milk, meat and eggs on the shelves like a rational sane person, I only fit in a quarter of them.

"No no no," Riffraff said. "You're doing it all wrong."

So he started shoving and squishing everything in, stretching the sides of the fridge like a rubber band, then grabbing the door and stomping it in with his feet, squeeezing it shut on the whole mess.

"That's great," I said. "But you've just done the suitcase gag. You'll have food flying all over."

"Observe." He pulled the door handle down like a lever.

When he opened the door again, everything fit picture perfect.

"So...there's a hidden freezer beneath the freezer or something?"

"Hammer Space."

I rolled my eyes. "Gotcha."

And then I asked, "Do you have to pay a fee to own a piece of Hammer Space?"

He gave me a suspicious look. "Why. Are you a bill collector?"

I smirked. "I think you just answered my question."

Riff shrugged. "I may or may not be behind a month."

"Oh!" I heard Cleo saying from a doorway. "Our slave is here! Wonderful!"

"Yes, baby," Riffraff said. "He's been a chauffeur and our grocery boy. He even paid for the groceries. Any requests before I really torture him?"

"I can think of a few," she said with a mischievous grin. "First of all, he needs to dress like a slave."

"Roman, Egyptian or French maid?"

She paused and rubbed her chin. "French maid."

I groaned. "Seriously?"

So far, the abuse had been rather mild. The groceries and stocking the fridge had been a little annoying, but not quite intolerable. But this...this was unreasonable.

I really considered blowing the whole thing off. I mean, no one said I had to submit to this...

But I kind of wanted to. At least a little. I sort of still liked Riffraff, and wanted to get on his good side...Or maybe Cleo's. I don't know why, but I did.

Plus I was kind of stuck in Cool World now, so there were certain things I had to learn to put up with. Plus, with my condition, I'd technically be female fifty percent of the time anyway, so it wouldn't be a complete drag act.

"Seriously," he said. "Go see Leroy. Ask him to show you the slave shop."

"Why am I asking him?" I asked in alarm.

"He's been our slave before. He'll show you where to go."

I frowned. "Oh...kay."

I glanced at Sneezer. "You'd better come along. Leroy's been pestering me about the car. They might want a down payment or something."

The mouse gave me a knowing smile.

I swallowed hard. "Oh no. You got your show already. That's technically my money."

"You only found it. It's not yours."

I put my hands on my hips, scowling at him. As I did this, I suddenly became the rat in the kimono.

Sneezer's mouth dropped open, and hearts popped out of his body. "I'll do anything for you!"

"Right," I groaned. "Whatever. Let's go."

Grinning, the mouse followed me out the crudely constructed door.

And so I marched down the mound of junk, noting, with some annoyance, that I had suddenly become Scouter Drew again. At least, I told myself, it's better than that fatass from Pixar's Up.

Nervously, I marched down through the piles of discarded trash, furniture and car parts until I found Leroy seated at a little table, chewing on a rubber steak in a dog dish.

I waved to him.

The dog bit off a chunk of steak and stared at me. "Did you get lost, little boy?"

"Uh, no," I said. "Riffraff made me his slave, and I'm looking for the, um, slave shop. You know anything about that?"

He scowled. "I might."

My animated form flickered, and I was myself again.

"Waaait!" he growled. "You're that Deebes kid, aren't you? I knew I recognized that voice!"

"Uh...you got me."

"If there's one thing I hate more than anything else, it's liars. Be honest with me. Deebes, did you really intend to buy that Cadillac, or were you just making up a story to get past me?"

I swallowed. "Actually, I've always liked that car. Probably more than the cats that live in it."

"That's what I wanted to hear!"

I gave him a nod. "That's right. "

He crossed his arms. "I still want to see that loan paperwork."

"Fine. I've been meaning to get that done anyway. Do you know where I can find someone who can offer me a loan without giving me a shifty deal?"

Leroy scratched his head. "No. I'm just a dog."

But then he paused, pulling out a silver bullet. "Wait. I completely forgot about this. A masked man came by here a few weeks ago. I think he said his name was the Loan Arranger. Maybe you can try giving him a call."

And he handed me the bullet.

"Ohhkay, as crazy as that sounds, I'm guessing it's legit. How do I use this...bullet?"

Leroy shrugged. "I don't know. Shoot it?"

He pulled out a gun. "Here. Use this."

He handed me a cartoon weapon that probably wouldn't hurt him if I shot him with it.

Before I could fire the bullet in the air or anything, he said, "Wait. Better check with the boss for an estimate first."

I smiled. "That's a good idea. I don't know what I was thinking."

The dog led me up to a square little concrete building that said Office on it. Its windows only showed diagonal bands of blue and white to illustrate reflectivity, so I couldn't see inside until Leroy pushed the door open and lead me in.

Like going upstairs in a sitcom, nobody showed the junkyard office on the cartoon, so I had no idea what to expect.

As in other cartoon buildings, it turned out to be bigger on the inside than out, like a warehouse, and the only thing that it seemed to contain was a pair of offices and an immense desk, the latter occupied by an even more immense stupid looking purple pig demon with horns and glowing eyes.

"Uh, hello?" I said.

"Who are you?" the creature replied, his voice, of course, a demonic rumbly bass.

"I'm Drew Deebes. I'm interested in buying the Cat-Illac."

"Are you," he said with skepticism.

"Definitely, sir. How much do you want for it?"

"Ten grand," he replied. "Be aware that by purchasing said item, you risk destabilizing the integrity of this entire reality, and possibly wipe several characters out of existence."

"I've just had sex with a doodle," I said. "How bad can it be?"

"There is more than one way to destroy Cool World."

"Why will it destroy Cool World?" I said. "I mean, if anything, expanding the universe of a particular cartoon would strengthen it, not weaken it."

"You'll destroy canon on a discontinued series."

"So? " I said. "It just needs to be rebuilt."

"It's not as simple as you think. There are established character-antagonist relationships, dramatic tension, not to mention copyright laws to negotiate."

"I still don't see a problem," I said. "All those things can be expanded, except maybe the copyrights. It gives depth. Shows character development. This place is already full of dramatic conflict. The cats will still be interesting, even if they decide to move on."

The creature only laughed, handing me some paperwork and a pen with ink the color of blood.

"What's this?" I said.

"A contractual agreement stating that, upon failing to pay the ten thousand dollars within a year, you are obligated to serve me for two."

I frowned. "It almost sounds like you know about the agreement I had with Riffraff."

He laughed. "I know everything that happens in this junkyard."

As I signed each line, I heard thunder, and an unseen choir sang an ominous piece like they did in the scary parts of Indiana Jones movies. Clouds of red-purple animated smoke surrounded me, the kind that came out of the evil genie bottle on Disney's Aladdin.

When I finished signing, the demon did the traditional villain laugh, an unnatural progression from chortles to mad barking guffaws.

I just stared at him, not quite as impressed as I supposed I should be.

In fact, I was thinking about how James Bond villains always laugh exactly three times like this, which led me to thinking about Austin Powers and that Bond parody song by Mister Blotto.

After an awkward moment, the demon growled, "Get out of here. You ruined it."