Minerva Mink; beautiful, vain, and shallow; or so she seems. She is every male's fantasy and will be no man's acquisition Wilford B. Wolf; hopelessly smitten and hopelessly nerdy. Can each look beyond surface appearances to find what both truly yearn for? Can two mismatched lovers work their way past their differences?
I'm a typical shallow male. I like what is obliquely referred to as fanservice.
Having said that, there have been ample (pardon the pun) characters in the history of animation that project sensual appeal. Prominent among them are Tex Avery's Red Hot Riding Hood, Max Fleischer's Betty Boop, and Disney's Jessica Rabbit.
Which brings us to the character who has had what has been called the shortest run in animation history because of her overt sexual expression: Minerva Mink. She's a character on Warner Bros. Animaniacs. She guest-appeared in Hercule Yakko and the full-length feature, Wakko's Wish. She had only two of her own features, Meet Minerva and Moon Over Minerva. With her flowing blonde hair and buxom figure, she is patterned after actress Marilyn Monroe. The recurring trope is that males of every male who beholds her, of every mammalian, avian, reptilian, amphibian, and invertebrate species, goes berserk with desire. And she shines them on. Minerva, on the other hand is seeking to snare a rich and / or handsome husband / boyfriend; unluckily, her wishes are thwarted as often as those of her potential suitors.
This story is based off her second feature, Moon Over Minerva. In brief, poor geeky Wilford B. Wolf is crushing on her, and keeps asking her for a date…which she, of course, customarily rejects. The tables are turned when it develops that Wilford is a werewolf who turns into a hunk every full moon, and
Minerva goes crazy alternatively chasing the virile Wilford, and spurning the geeky Wilford.
Moi, however, in his overdramatic POV, perceives the kernel of a sweet love story under the comedy of errors. It is on that premise that our story proceeds. The story will go in some serious directions; I've tried, though, for some ironic humor. How good am I at the broad Animaniacs humor? Not very, I'm afraid.
Animaniacs is the brainchild of Steven Spielberg and the property of Warner Bros.; or visa versa. Virile
Wilford, by the way, is based on the hunky celeb and romance novel cover male model, Fabio.
Wilford
chpt 1
that full moon night; his POV
It was the morning after the full moon; or, as it was sometimes referred to, a Lycanthropic Episode.
The post-episode symptoms varied widely. Sometimes, he felt clearheaded and invigorated. Today, he felt like he had been on a bender. And for Wilford B. Wolf, who rarely drank anything stronger than something heavily caffeinated…to stay awake for long computer sessions…that was unheard-of. But his heart was buoyant on this glorious morning.
The evening before had begun terribly. He mourned his failure to successfully court the girl of his dreams, Minerva Mink. There he sat, dejected, at the edge of the valley, watching what should've been a glorious romantic sunset. He felt the Transformation coming on. He lifted up his head and bayed at the moon. He thought about casting himself off the top of the valley, but it wasn't a precipitous cliff; it was a gently rolling, grassy-covered hillside. He would've landed with a soft thud facedown on the sod…typically undignified…and probably lost his glasses in the bargain. That was one minute…
…The next minute, it was already dark; the moon momentarily obscured by the scudding clouds. He heard a soft voice behind him. And there , as he turned to see, was a vision of loveliness, his goddess, Minerva, clad like in a curvy-something, modeling for him.
"Sorry for the delay, lover boy. I wanted to slip into something more…comfy; you like?" she had purred seductively, twirling herself temptingly.
And he had no idea why the same high-maintenance girl who had earlier spurned him should now be vying for his attention, or what she meant by a delay. But it turned his head like a sudden screech of car brakes. So he responded with typical uncomplicated candor and admiration. "You look peachy, Minerva; simply peachy."
Like the flick of a switch, she had changed from sweet to sour. "You?! What are you doing here? And where did he go?" And she raced around in a mad rush, calling out "Yoo hoo! Lover Boy!"
There was a strange blackout moment…and he found himself standing in front of Minerva, under a big oak tree. She wore a very blissful expression on her face…and the sudden change in demeanor came again. She looked at him, shocked. Then her eyes turned up in her head, and she fainted dead away. He was too stunned to even catch her.
Then came another blurring of consciousness…and suddenly, he felt a viselike grip around his neck, and a pleasant tingling sensation on his lips…no, it was more like sizzling…waves of sizzles that radiated from like his lips like radar and suffused his whole self, from head to toe to tail tip.. Minerva's sweet eau de lilac fragrance (he knew them all by heart) filled his nostrils. And her lovely face was mashed up next to his. He saw every perfect feature under the bright full moon…her pert little nose, her delicate eyelashes, and the hair of spun gold that framed the perfect face. He further became aware that he was cradling her in his arms.
He couldn't help himself. In a fit of exhilaration, he broke off the kiss and broke out with an unrestrained howl of triumph that rang to the skies…
…And suddenly the spell was broken. Minerva's eyes flew open and again widened in shock. She flew out of his arms like the springing of a mousetrap.
She stared at her arms in disbelief, as though she had come to and found herself touching something ugly. Then she looked at him with the same expression.
And he noticed that what he had taken to be moonlight was really sunlight. Realization came flooding in. Under the Full Moon, his Other Self had come forth, and had been romancing Minerva.
Crossing her arms, she turned away from him in indignation, and, holding his hands behind his back, he turned away from her in shame. He could never forgive himself.
"Wilford," she said, in a resentful tone of voice, "Just what kind of crazy wolf are you anyway?"
"Were-," he muttered curtly, barely audible, eyes cast downward, and feet shuffling. He would've said more, but felt too morose to engage on a long explanation.
"Were-?" she said, sounding pleasantly surprised. "You're a werewolf?"
He shrugged resignedly. "Yup."
"Wilford?" There was a new note in her voice. He knew it well. It was the suggestive 'come-hither' tone of voice. She turned, peering provocatively over her shoulder, and batting her long eyelashes. "When is the next full moon gonna be?"
He started to explain. And, like an eager student, she took a seat on a rock and gave him her undivided attention.
He positively warmed to the occasion. Producing a sky chart and pointing stick, he thoroughly explained the moon's orbit, phases, and the differences between the lunar and solar calendars.
She sat attentively, with her hands folded primly on her knees, and her big expressive eyes seeming to take in every detail.
He was hard-pressed to keep his mind on his presentation. His eyes kept straying from the sky map to her face, and from her face to her bosom. Her evening gown neckline was low-cut and strapless, and what he saw from his perspective was more awe-inspiring than a newly-discovered supernova.
As he concluded, she demurely raised a hand. He thought for a moment how privileged any teacher would feel to have such a petite hand attired in such a lovely arm-length formal glove in response to a lecture.
"So, you're saying that the lunar month is shorter than the regular month on the calendar," she said.
"Yes," he answered. He was gratified. She had been paying attention. It wasn't often that the people he tutored seemed so conscientious. But then, it wasn't often that he tutored someone who so thoroughly engaged his attention.
"And the next full moon is in…"
"Twenty-eight days."
She smiled bewitchingly. "Good things are worth waiting for." With the grace of a ballerina, she got to her feet an d smoothed out her gown. The way she ran her hands from above her waist down her hips and the sides of her torso made his corpuscles circulate like race cars through his blood vessels. "Wilford?' she asked intimately, batting her eyes and pursing her lips.
"Yes, Minerva?" his throat suddenly turned dry.
She fussed with his bow tie. "Could we do this again? You and me? At the next full moon?"
Wilford B. Wolf had no idea what he said in response to Minerva's offer. He had no idea how he got home that morning. All he remembered was that she gave him a final peck on the lips, and a breathy departing promise.
…"I'll be waiting."
For all he knew, he flew home, flapping his arms. He had seen similar feats impossible to physical science and mathematics accomplished by love-stricken men who had had happened to glance in Minerva's direction. And she had favored him with much more than a glance.
to be continued