Bonds Chapter 6: Mean Streets, an animaniacs fanfic

NOTE: To stop the fire before it starts...

This chapter will reference young toons learning their abilities. I consider this to be canon; Tiny Toon Adventures was structured around the idea of young toons going to a school and learning their abilities from veteran toons. The idea of a "hammerspace" is also a preexisting concept.

I appreciate the feedback, I really do. But please, if you feel that I am liberally lifting ideas from other authors, I encourage you to send me a PM detailing my offenses. I will gladly provide you with examples of how the content of my story is either canon, implied by canon, or original. This section has several very talented authors and I would never do them the disservice of hijacking their ideas. While you have the right to accuse me of doing so, please be aware that I consider this an unfair judgment of my character and I reserve the right to defend it.

Thanks for understanding!

Chapter 5: Mean Streets

March 2nd, and it was still snowing.

Unbelievable.

Yakko stared at it from the window in his Manhattan apartment, his eyes narrowed, and blew on his tea. He was doing his best to mentally will the snow to stop falling. It wasn't even snow, really, it was more like heavy, wet, partially frozen mush that coated the city in a dirty blanket of slush. He was going to have to walk in it later…he could already feel the ice and rock salt wedging themselves between his toes. It was almost enough to make a toon wear shoes.

Sometimes it was hard to believe that just under three months ago they had been in Burbank for Slappy's funeral. With their friends. With Buster. Sitting in on a meeting with Bugs Bunny. Almost running over some demented weasel. After that night Yakko and his siblings had left for New York early the next morning; Wakko and Dot had pressed him for details from the meeting, to which he gave limited information. He told them that the authorities were looking into Slappy's death - did they really need to know all the mess that surrounded it? Neither sibling seemed to think this was adequate. Dot had tried her damnedest to pour paint down his pants in some kind of revenge effort.

Buster made Yakko promise to keep in touch, Yakko made Buster promise to tell him about anything suspicious. Aside from one more disappearance in Mexico, Buster routinely reported nothing new of interest. On his end, Yakko had remained constantly alert. He checked the papers for missing persons, read the crime section in search of chemical attacks. But nothing seemed strange – well, strange for New York, anyway. The case had gone cold.

That didn't mean it had stopped bothering him.

Yakko's birthday had come and gone. He was nineteen now, which felt no different from being eighteen. Apparently birthdays ceased to be interesting after eighteen. Well, maybe twenty-one would be kind of fun. Maybe. Yakko had never cared much for his own birthday anyway. In fact he cared much more about his making his siblings' birthdays special. They had celebrated Wakko's yesterday. Yakko smiled sadly – his little brother was sixteen. The age seemed to have snuck up on him…wasn't it last week that he was showing Wakko how to tie his shoes? Wasn't it last night that he was holding Wakko close, telling his little brother a bedtime story?

Yakko gave his head a quick little shake. He was having what Dot had dubbed a "sap-tacular" moment. It was just something he should be used to by now: Wakko and Dot were growing up. Progressing naturally through life like humans was the fate of toons who were born instead of drawn. Their lives had timelines. One day, they would die. When that thought gnawed at his mind, Yakko took comfort in the fact that he was not alone. It was rare for a toon to be drawn these days. In the early days, toons had been drawn with entertainment in mind. But now there were plenty of toons who could act and be funny without having been drawn. And with toons quite capable of repopulating on their own, it just wasn't necessary. Or practical; if toons were constantly drawn into immortal being, the world would start to run out of room.

Why did he always get so melancholy around their birthdays? Wakko was right – he was an old man trapped in a young toon's body. He'd better get a grip on himself: Dot would be turning fourteen in May. At this rate he'd be weeping in a fetal position on the floor while she was blowing out the candles on her cake.

Besides, he had more important things to focus on: Wakko turning sixteen meant Wakko taking his Class A Candidate test. It was a right of passage for any Class B teenager, as passing it meant that you were eligible to take the Class A test when you turned eighteen. Yakko remembered being so nervous on the morning of his test that he felt sick. He had tried to hide it by yammering endlessly to the proctors about the Lakers. And he hated basketball.

But if Wakko didn't get up soon, Yakko was going to have to drag him out of bed. The night before Wakko had requested that Yakko help him do some last minute cramming before class started. Yakko had been about to lecture Wakko on the pitfalls of cramming for a test, but after seeing the pleading look on Wakko's face he decided to just roll with it. Normally Yakko would never be up at such an obscenely early hour, especially not after an epic nocturnal argument with a woman he didn't even consider his girlfriend.

Rebecca was on the warpath. She had never quite gotten over his leaving for an entire weekend without telling her. Even though he knew for a fact that she had been very…occupied…with Lester, who played Javert in the show.

Cosette and Javert…what would Valjean think?

Yakko sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed his eyes. It took a moment for the words to come into focus as he gazed with bleary eyes at the newspaper. He flipped a few pages in; the toon section was in the middle, and in addition to their local writers, the The New York Times syndicated press from the Toon Gazette in Los Angeles. Every morning since December he examined the toon section, hoping for some bit of news that never came. This morning looked to be no different. A couple snippets of toon crime, a brief story on a toon who had managed to flip himself inside out but got stuck that way, a blurb about how Mickey Mouse was set to make an appearance at the Academy Awards, an even smaller blurb about Bosko opening a factory in Mexico –

Wait. Mexico? Yakko blinked, suddenly feeling very awake. The article was barely a paragraph long, hardly noticeable in the bottom corner amongst ads for fur softener and glove restorers. But there it was – 'Bosko acquires squirtgun manufacturer in Tijuana' –

"Yakko?"

Yakko jumped violently, scattering the newspaper all over the floor nearly spilling his tea.

"What?" he yelped, startled.

Wakko was standing in the doorway, fully dressed. He padded into the kitchen, muttering, "Jeez, calm down, it's just me." His voice was still heavy from sleep.

In that small amount of time Yakko had completely forgotten about Wakko and his test. He glanced at the clock. It was 6:30 in the morning – usually Wakko wasn't even partially functional until 7:30, let alone dressed. Wakko must be nervous.

"Sorry sib, you're too quiet sometimes. I think I'm going to tie a bell around your neck so I know when you're coming into the room," Yakko said.

"Someone has to be the quiet one in this family or no one would ever get a word in," Wakko pointed out.

"This is true," Yakko conceded as he picked up the newspaper. He started paging through it, searching for the toon section, when Wakko sat down at the table and pulled out a textbook from behind his back. Wakko then slid the book across the table until it was directly in front of him. Yakko looked at the cover. 'Practice Makes Perfect: The Young Toon's Guide to Passing the Class A Candidacy.'

Barely containing a sigh, Yakko slapped a hand on the book and opened it up. It figured that the first day there was actually a hint of interesting news it would be the same day as Wakko's test. But Yakko willed his annoyance down. It wasn't like it was Wakko's fault. And judging by the slightly green tinge on Wakko's cheeks, his poor brother was feeling just as bad as he had.

"Alright, we'll start off easy," Yakko said, flipping through the pages. "Enlighten me, what's another word for 'toon physics?'"

"Animation, which is any toonish act made by a classed toon," Wakko recited lazily.

"And what's the most basic class a toon can be?" Yakko asked.

"Class D," Wakko answered.

"What constitutes a Class D?"

"A Class D can prevent himself from minor injuries, if he knows it's coming."

"Good. Next class?"

"Class C. Can withdraw common objects from his hammerspace, and he can prevent himself from being hurt most times, if he knows it's coming, I mean. He can do a toon sprint at thirty miles-per-hour for at least a minute."

Yakko nodded. "Next?'

"Class B," Wakko sighed, reciting, "Wears gloves. Class B can take out anything from his hammerspace except for living things, he can wield a mallet or another weapon in a...in an...shoot, what's the word for doing it without really hurting someone?"

Yakko peered at him over the book. "Nonaggressive."

Wakko nodded, his tongue flopping out of his mouth. "Yeah, that one - he can use a mallet in a nonaggressive way, he can do a toon sprint at forty-five miles-per hour for at least three minutes. He can shapeshift whenver he wants. He can prevent himself from getting hurt at all if he knows it's coming and can prevent small surprise injuries."

"Which means…" Yakko prompted.

"He has toon instincts, which, you know, means his body will protect itself naturally sometimes," Wakko answered.

"Good. And finally?"

"Class A," Wakko said, sounding more determined as he ticked off the qualities on his fingers, "Wears gloves. A Class A can take out anything from his hammerspace, can use a mallet and other stuff nonagressively, he can run a toon sprint at sixty miles-per-hour for at least five minutes, he can shapeshift whenever, he can prevent himself from being hurt, he can manipulate stuff around him, and he can throw off toon energy."

Yakko nodded, scanning the book. "Very good. Tell me what toon energy is and how you can use it."

Wakko rested his head on the table as he recited, "Toon energy is the…shoot, what is it…oh yeah! It's the potential and used energy that exists whenever a toon bends reality. A Class A can channel this energy into controlled uh, controlled exertions. If a toon loses control, sometimes their toon energy can explode."

Yakko smirked. It was kind of funny hearing so many words come out of his quiet sibling at one time. "Excellent sib. Who was the first registered Class A toon?"

"Bugs Bunny."

"Why is it important to register toons by class?" Yakko asked, paging through the book.

"For safety and criminal records."

"Tell me more."

"Fine. If a toon commits a crime it makes it easier to find out who did it because the cops'll know what they're capable of. Only registered toons are allowed to interact with humans outside of Toontown."

"Didn't miss a single question, you've got this. How about we do some practical?" Yakko suggested.

Wakko nodded, albeit sluggishly, and got out of his chair.

"Okay bud," Yakko said, leaning back in his own chair, "show me a parrot."

Wakko smirked and reached a hand behind his back. When he pulled it back out, a live macaw was sitting on his wrist. It blinked at Yakko with one beady eye before squawking, "Show me a parrot! Show me a parrot!"

"Put it away!" Yakko yelled, laughing as he covered his ears. Once Wakko slid the screeching parrot back behind his back, Yakko continued, "Good, you can do live creatures in your sleep. But how about some shapeshifting, huh? Can you squash and stretch?"

Wakko nodded.

"I see," Yakko said, "How about you touch the front door without leaving that spot?"

Wakko looked at the front door, which was a good fifteen feet away. Keeping his feet firmly planted on the floor, Wakko pulled his arm back before heaving it forward as though he was throwing a baseball. His arm stretched out like black taffy, shooting past Yakko and through the living room, but stopped just a foot shy of the door. Wakko grunted in frustration, but Yakko encouraged him. "No worries sib," he said, "just try again. Focus. Do it slowly, carefully. Think about how much you want to touch the door. Try to convince yourself that the door's right next to you."

Wakko reeled his arm back in. He concentrated on the door, and his tongue peeked out of his mouth. Then he pulled his arm back and flung it forward again, but this time his gloved hand slapped the front door.

"Nicely done!" Yakko cheered as Wakko smiled. "Just remember to concentrate when you do it, you could really hurt yourself if you just start stretching without thinking. You need to focus during your test, they're going to try and distract you."

"Really? Like how?" Wakko asked.

"When I took the test they kept trying to talk to me while I was performing a task, like asking irrelevant questions and trying to get me to look the other way, etcetera etcetera."

Wakko fiddled with his glove nervously. "Why would they try to make you mess up?"

"They're not trying to make you mess up, they just want you to be able to prove that you can focus. Think about it – what if you were doing a move around a bunch of humans who can't defend themselves, and something went wrong because you got distracted?" Yakko pointed out.

Wakko nodded, but there was a definite hint of panic in his eyes. Yakko could practically hear his heart beating in his chest. Placing the book on the table, Yakko stood up and approached his brother. Leaning over so he and Wakko were eye level, Yakko said, "Listen to me, Wakko: you've got nothing to worry about. You're smart and you're talented. You've been doing Class A Candidate moves since you were twelve. How many other toons can say that? I know you're gonna make me proud, you always do. You've got more toon skills than you think…by the time you come back home tonight you're going to be wondering why you were worried about such an easy test. And c'mon – you're a Warner. We're practially born Class A's."

Wakko nodded, his face losing some of the anxious tension it had housed before. "Thanks," he muttered, grinning in a small, embarrassed way.

"Don't mention it," Yakko said, straightening up, "Now, I just want to go over one more thing."

"What's that?"

Yakko stepped back and hunkered down in crouch. "A Class A Candidate can prevent himself from an attack, but can he prevent himself from…me?"

Wakko laughed excitedly as Yakko sprung into a tackle. The two collided – Yakko felt Wakko's body go soft and rubbery – and they hit the floor in a roll. Wakko giggled and tried to wrestle his way on top, Yakko let his body go soft too, knowing full well that Wakko could hit hard if he wanted to. It was a good thing too: Wakko kneed him in the stomach as he tried to get the upper hand. Yakko let his body go solid again as he darted out of Wakko's grasp and emerged behind his younger brother in a short burst of a toon sprint. He reached forward, tickling Wakko in the ribs.

"Knock…it…off!" Wakko gasped between laughs. He kicked out behind him, making Yakko stumble. Yakko smirked – it had been a while since they play fought.

Just before he could lunge in another tackle, a morning-heavy voice grumbled, "Some of us are trying to get our beauty sleep, ya know!"

It was Dot - she marched into the kitchen, glaring at them both, before snatching a banana from the counter and retracing the path back to her room.

Rolling his eyes and smirking, Yakko muttered, "At her majesty's request I'm calling a ceasefire. Now, you know where the testing facility is, right? Do you want to go over it one more time – "

"Yakko, it's two blocks from JTAP, I could've figured that out even if you hadn't walked me past it eight times in the last two weeks," Wakko said with an eye roll as he readjusted his jacket.

Yakko nodded. "Okay. Remember what we talked about, just go straight there after class – "

" – and you'll pick me up after my test," Wakko finished, "I know."

"Okay, I'm just making sure – "

"I got it – "

"Don't be nervous – "

"Too late for that – "

"Aw buck up kiddo. Now grab your books, you're gonna be late."

"But – "

"C'mon, get a move on, you've got class in a couple minutes," Yakko said, ushering Wakko into the foyer. He quickly returned to his newspaper – it didn't matter that the article was small, even one word could point them down the right path to finding Slappy's murderer –

Dot burst dramatically back into the kitchen, looking as though she had just witnessed a car accident. "Yakko! I can't find my lavender boots!" she cried.

"Aren't those your boots?" Yakko asked, gesturing vaguely to the door without looking up from his paper.

"Those ones are magenta, I need my lavender boots," Dot said, exasperated.

"You need to go to school," Yakko insisted, "just put on the magneto or whatever color boots. I thought you liked those ones, don't they have hearts on the bottom or something?"

"Yeah but the magenta ones won't match my outfit!"

"I'm sure that won't affect your academic performance," Yakko drawled.

"But Yakko – "

Slapping the newspaper on the table, Yakko got to his feet. "Alright Dot, enough is enough. Look at the clock. If I see that you're late to class because of a pair of boots, I'm not gonna like it – and trust me, you'll know it. Now put on your shoes and get your butt out that door."

Giving him the filthiest look she could muster so early in the morning, Dot snapped, "Fine, have it your way, like always!" She then stomped out the door, snatching up the magenta boots as she left.

"Go with Wakko to his test, I don't want you walking home by yourself!" Yakko called after her. He sat down again and plucked up his paper. He'd gotten worse from Dot before, that little tantrum was harmless. He flipped through the pages until landing on the toon section. Both sibs were gone now, he could read in peace –

"Yakko?"

Yakko cried out in shock, this time knocking over his mug of tea with his elbow. It splashed all over the table, soaking the newspaper before Yakko could snatch the paper away.

"Damn it," he muttered, trying to wipe the tea off. The toon section was now a murky, muddled green and brown.

"Wow, you're jumpy," Wakko observed, "how much caffeine is in your grandma potion?"

Yakko glared at him. "The caffeine in my tea, thank you, is not the point. I thought you were on your way to JTAP, Wak. Get a move on, you're worse than Dot!"

"I just wanted to go over the arm thing one more time, I'm not that good at it," Wakko said, pulling his arm back.

Sighing, Yakko rubbed the bridge of his snout. "You see, this is exactly why I told you not to cram…"

"I'm not cramming, I just want to make sure I've got it all right at the last minute!" Wakko protested.

"Wakko that's…" Yakko began, but shook his head, "nevermind. Look, bud, you've got it down, you're just psyching yourself out."

"But it's easier when you're here helping me – "

"And I can't help you on your test. If you're so worried why don't you practice on your way to class? 'Class' is the keyword in that sentence," Yakko said.

Letting his arm fall to his side, Wakko frowned. "Fine, have it your way, like always," he muttered, then slung his backpack over his shoulder and marched out the door.

Yakko shook his head. If he didn't know any better he'd think Wakko and Dot were in cahoots. It was so frustrating to get them out the door on any other morning, and today was the worst in a while. God, what he wouldn't give for just one morning alone, just him.

Grumbling to himself, Yakko returned to the newspaper. Trying to smooth out the sodden paper without tearing it, he squinted at the words. The ink was runny, forming indecipherable black blotches where there was once an article that was of great interest to him. With sigh, Yakko balled it up and tossed it in the trash. Luckily there was more than one newspaper in New York, so he'd just go out and buy another one. He threw on his jacket and had barely placed his hand on the doorknob when the phone rang.

"If this isn't Dot telling me the school's on fire I'm hanging up," he growled to himself, stomping back to the kitchen. He seized the phone from the receiver and snapped, "Hello?"

"You!" shrieked a shrill and regrettably familiar voice.

"And good morning to you too, Rebecca," Yakko groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and massaging the base of his ear with one hand.

"If you think you can just walk out on me, leaving me in the cold, you've got another thing coming you dirty, lowdown pig!" Rebecca screamed.

"What's your definition of 'walking out?' The way I remember it, you left me on the corner, got a cab, and told me to never talk to you again," Yakko pointed out calmly.

"That's right, I told you never to speak to me again because whenever you talk it just reminds me of how much I can't stand you!" Yakko could hear her heavy breathing through the phone.

"And I'd be happy oblige your request," Yakko chirped, "Okay, hanging up now…"

"There's another girl, isn't there? Tell me the truth!" rang Rebecca's voice.

Yakko paused before pulling the phone back up to his ear. "Ex-squeeze me?" He only said that because he knew she hated it.

"Shut up – I know there's another girl! Who's the skank?"

"Rebecca, either you haven't taken your medication or you need to a get a prescription, stat, because you've completely lost your mind," Yakko said. What was she talking about? What was wrong with girls, anyway? Was this a universal affliction?

"I knew it, I knew it the whole time, why would you just suddenly disappear for a weekend and not tell me anything? Where did you take her? A little shithole motel? It's Desireé, isn't it, you always flirt with her in rehearsals!"

"Rebecca, I'm already insane enough to hook up with just you. The thought of multiple girls is too horrifying to consider," Yakko said. Funny. Before he would have never said there was such a thing as too many girls. Now he was seriously considering celibacy.

And then he realized, perhaps not even for the first time, that talking to Rebecca actually made him feel lonely.

"Don't bullshit me. You barely even touch me since you came back from that weekend. You act like I'm a disease when we're together. I'm not stupid, I know you're screwing around!"

Yakko rolled his eyes. She was wrong on almost all of her accounts. He wasn't screwing around and she was stupid, but, now that he thought about it, he had to admit that he had been a little cold with her. The whole thing was strange; ever since the weekend of Slappy's viewing, whenever he tried to make out with Rebecca Babs' voice would be nagging in the back of his mind…as if you haven't slept with half of Broadway by now…you guys are all the same – a bunch of spoiled pricks…it was extremely annoying. Not to mention weird. Why would be caring about what Babs' thought when she was three thousand miles and he had a gorgeous girl right there, tangible, in his arms? But that never seemed to matter. He couldn't concentrate when he could hear Babs' insults, and the next thing he knew he was telling Rebecca that he didn't feel good and was going home.

" – I gave you the best years – year – of my life, and the least you could do was be faithful – "

"Because you set such a good example of that," Yakko retorted.

In a voice that sounded like she was about to breath fire, Rebecca snarled, "What are you trying to say – "

"Rebecca, darling, dear…pardon my French but even the elevator in my apartment hasn't gone down as many times or with more people than you. Now, it's been lovely, but I think we should see other people – oh wait, you've already done that," Yakko drawled.

"You asshole!" Rebecca howled, "I'm telling everyone you're horrible in the sack – and by the way, I already have plans with Lester tonight – "

"You do that," Yakko replied, then hung up the phone and her piercing voice cut out abruptly.

Performing with her tonight was going to be a blast.

"So I told Razzy he should do a duet with Dot because I thought they would sound good together, which is not only totally true but then maybe he'd ask you to the semi-formal next Saturday during one of your rehearsals or something!" Patti exclaimed.

Dot smiled appreciatively at her friend, a curly-haired poodle toon, as they left their composition class. Patti was currently chatting to her and their friend Yvonne, a blonde human toon, about the goings-on of after school jazz club. The three of them clutched their books to their chests and walked in sync to their lockers. Dot liked being part of their group, it made her feel powerful and safe. Then again, groups of three seemed to be a trend with her. She was never on her own. She was always with her brothers. Or Randy and Skippy.

She twirled the combination lock, losing track of what Patti and Yvonne were giggling about as a guilty squirm tangled her insides. Skippy. She had never visited him before she left for New York like she said she would. And she had only called him once since then. While he had been able to talk to her without breaking down into tears, he still sounded miserable.

She was a horrible person.

Dot opened her locker and stacked her books inside, ignoring the unpleasant feeling in her stomach. Whenever she thought of Skippy she felt hollow inside, like a reminder of how she wasn't good, wasn't whole, that she had no heart. It didn't help that she had a picture of him and her together in her locker – his smiling face was taunting her.

But she couldn't explain it…there was something about Skippy's grief that made her want to run. She couldn't bear to see his anguish-twisted face, or the hear the voice that was once boyish and bright now empty and dark. Dot peeked at her friends from behind her locker. They were giggling, talking rapidly. Yvonne was twisting a lock of hair around her finger once, twice, three times…

It was so easy to disappear into their world, to forget about Skippy and busy herself with boys and clothes. You didn't have to feel guilt when you were popular. Being friends with Patti and the others was like living in a dream: family didn't die, you didn't have to deal with reality and its raw emotions. As she looked at the picture of Skippy, then at the girls, Dot suddenly felt incredibly empty.

"You okay Dot?"

Dot blinked. Patti and Yvonne were both staring at her, examining her like a science experiment.

"I – yeah, totally, just kinda spaced out for a second," Dot said, trying not to look too flustered.

"Like, yeah, we noticed," Yvonne said.

Patti slammed her locker shut. "C'mon girls, let's go to Webber's class. I want to get a seat next to Robbie. He's even hotter with the haircut."

Both Patti and Yvonne turned on their heels, chattering as they navigated their way through the busy hallway. Dot trudged behind them, thinking that she'd probably skip class right now if she was a little braver. They turned the corner into the hallway where the older kids' lockers were. Wakko must already be in class, as he wasn't at his, but Jeanie and her gang of older girls were huddled closely around Jeanie's locker, snickering and pointing. Darla, the bratty girl from Cats Don't Dance, was with them, laughing in such an obnoxious way it made Dot want to ralph. But instinctively, Patti, Yvonne and Dot kept their eyes focused on the ground. Even one stray glance was known to antagonize Jeanie into unnecessary ruthlessness. And Jeanie seemed to have a special spot in her heart for Dot and her brother.

But she must be in a good mood today – Jeanie was ignoring the three of them completely. Her yellow cat eyes were narrowed with malice, and the other girls were laughing shrilly, grabbing at something she was holding. It was probably something stupid, like an embarrassing picture of somebody else. That was the kind of thing that would put Jeanie in a good mood.

Dot kept moving, glad to get past the older girl without incident, when she heard Jeanie hiss, "I can't believe that loser was on a TV show."

Nearly stumbling, Dot stopped in the middle of the hallway. Not many kids had at JTAP had been on a TV show. Many were on their way to eventually landing one, but as far as Dot knew, she, Wakko, and the girl from Gummi Bears were the only ones currently enrolled who had starred on television. How many people could Jeanie possibly be talking about…

Jeanie continued, "I mean, seriously, he's just riding on his brother's coattails, and even he's not that good. And as if I wasn't completely convinced Warner was the biggest freak on the planet, I go in his locker and find this…"

As the older girls cackled, Dot jumped to the water fountain and pretended to get a drink. Bending down, Dot tried to see in between the designer-clad bodies of the teens, hoping to catch a glimpse of what Jeanie was holding. Even though her brother was a gigantic pain in her tail, there was no way she could let someone like Jeanie get away with stealing his stuff. But the girls were blocking her view, and it wasn't like she could just waltz up and ask what Jeanie what all the fuss was about…

The bell rang, signaling the beginning of the next class. Dot, who had been so engrossed in Jeanie and the girls, jumped in surprise and ended up squirting herself in the face with a stream of fountain water. Coughing and spluttering, she spit out a mouthful onto the floor. Crap, had Jeanie seen that? Dot looked up, but the girls were already gone, and the hallway had nearly emptied. Not only was she now late for class, she was going to have to find Wakko and warn him about what Jeanie was up to. That, and she probably looked like a drowned rat right now. And to think she had spent twenty minutes on her hair this morning.

"Geez kid, you're supposed to drink the water, not take a bath in it," said an upperclassman as he passed by.

"Thanks for the tip!" Dot snapped, glaring at him as water dripped from her chin.

What sadist decided that it was a good idea to end the school day with Musical History?

Wakko glanced around him. Mrs. Twinny was hunched over the blackboard, scribbling names and dates while warbling on in her monotone voice. But in the rows of desks behind her, one half of the class was passing notes while the other half was sound asleep. Looking at the clock for the third time in two minutes, Wakko groaned. Still fifteen minutes left to go. But then he remembered with an awful jolt in his stomach that the end of classes meant the beginning of his candidacy test, and he suddenly wished he could add another hour to the clock.

He'd spent most of his classes studying for the test to the point where he didn't think he could cram another scrap of information into his skull. His brain was a mess of toon history, numbers for stretching distance, the mechanics of performing a toon sprint, of theories on injury prevention…and that was just the written portion. He still had to complete the practical on top of that. With everyone watching him. How had Yakko managed to pass that stupid test?

Because Yakko was good at everything, Wakko thought bitterly. Yakko probably didn't even study. He seriously doubted that Yakko had felt nauseous like he did this morning. There was nothing that Wakko could outshine his brother at, be it performing on stage, or making friends, or –

Jeanie and her squad of groupies giggled in the back of the room.

- girls.

There were a couple cute girls in JTAP, but whenever Wakko found himself one on one with them his stomach would feel like it was flipping inside out and his palms would begin to sweat inside his gloves. All he usually managed was a few unintelligible grunts and squeaks in their direction, which typically ended with the girls adopting confused looks. Sometimes he didn't even stick around long enough to see their faces. He mostly just ran away. It was even worse when girls approached him. Once, after a piano recital, Wakko was on his way to the restroom when Berry, a young fox girl in his class, stopped him right in the middle of the hallway. She smiled and told him that he had "looked really handsome up on stage." Wakko's immediate instinct had been to pass out, but he managed to keep conscious. Instead, and maybe totally worse, he blurted, "I have to go to the bathroom!" and dashed past her, leaving Berry alone in the hallway. He then hid in a bathroom stall for twenty minutes before he was sure he wouldn't encounter Berry when he came out. Not that he didn't want to see her – she was pretty okay for a girl, when he thought about it – he just couldn't bear to look her in the eye after that episode.

But Yakko…he never had a problem with girls. He always knew what to say to get them giggling, to make them give him their number or watch him when he walked away. He barely even had to work at it – it had gotten to the point where girls came on to Yakko whether he was interested or not. Sometimes the three of them couldn't even walk down the street without some girl approaching Yakko. Dot hated it. Half the time she tried to sabotage the encounter, usually by inventing a false but disgusting and incurable disease that had just inflicted Yakko, or telling the girl he was married.

While he yearned for Yakko's confidence with girls, Wakko felt that his brother took that confidence to a bit of an extreme. Sometimes Wakko was embarrassed by Yakko's bold come ons. Other times he thought Yakko spent way too much time with girls considering that Yakko had claimed to not want a girlfriend.

Sometimes Yakko would toy around asking Wakko about his own interest in girls. There had been a few times now where Yakko had caught him off guard and nearly tricked him into admitting something. Wakko flat out refused to tell Yakko anything. Not that Yakko was a blabbermouth about that kind of stuff, but Wakko just wanted some privacy, that was all. It was hard to keep anything personal when you spent more than half your life with your brother and sister. Most of the time, Wakko just denied interest. He didn't care about girls…much. But that didn't explain what he was currently drawing.

Wakko looked down at his sketch. He'd been drawing in his notebook for nearly an hour now. Every page in his notebook was coated in doodles: goofy caricatures of his teachers, made up creatures, things he saw out the window, or even just random shapes. With the exception of Yakko, no one knew he liked to draw. Not even Dot. And Yakko barely counted – Yakko had seen Wakko doodling once and complimented him on it. For his next birthday, Yakko had given him a sketchbook which he had filled almost immediately. Wakko didn't think he was very good – his drawings were always wild and never looked like what he saw in his head. But in the insanity of lines and scribbles he found a calm center, a place where he could be him, and where the drawing could be whatever he wanted.

Like in this case: a sketch of a fox girl who looked suspiciously like Berry.

Not that he would ever admit that.

The loud wail of the bell marked the end of class. The other students leapt from their desks in excitement, while others jerked awake, looking disoriented, but Wakko's stomach did a monstrous flip flop as he realized it was time for his test. Stuffing the sketch of Berry - no, not Berry, just some random girl who looked like Berry - hastily into his pocket, Wakko slung his backpack over his shoulder and hurried out of the room. He had to grab a few books from his locker before he left, then he had to find Dot because God forbid she went anywhere by herself, and then maybe he'd stop by a trashcan to throw up before they went to the testing facility. Not that he was nervous or anything.

Spinning the last number on his lock into place, Wakko flung his locker door open. Threw a few books in, took a few books out, threw some more in, he had almost everything…

Wait. Where was it?

His heart beating a little faster than it already was, Wakko dropped his backpack to the floor and dug through his locker. Where was his comic book? He could have sworn it was sitting right here…he began throwing other books to the floor in a panic. It was his favorite – Mickey Outwits the Phantom Blot – and now it was gone. Where could it be? It was right here! Crap crap crap, why did he even bring it to school to begin with anyways, was he really that much of a dork that he couldn't go one day without reading it? God, why did he have to be so stupid –

"Wakko! Wakko, I have to tell you something!" came Dot's voice. She was running down the hallway, ducking nimbly through the crowd, and waving her arms as though she hadn't already called enough attention to herself.

"Wakko, I have to tell you – "

"Shut up Dot, I'm busy," Wakko growled.

Dot skidded to a stop beside him, looking outraged. "Don't tell me to shut up, butthead, I've got something important to tell you!"

"What, did Dolce and Cabana come out with a new t-shirt?" Wakko jeered as he stuffed his books back into his locker.

"Okay, one, it's Gabbana, and two, stop being a total dingbat so I can talk to you for five seconds!" Dot demanded.

"I don't have five seconds, I'm late!" Wakko roared. He tried to shut his locker but it was too full and cluttered. He threw his whole body into it, shoulder first, to slam it shut before he took off down the hallway. He could hear Dot behind him, shrieking at him, telling him to stop, but he didn't listen. There was no way he could miss this test, it was too important, and Yakko would probably kill him…but his book was missing...he navigated the dense hallway, dodging students, shoving others, and ignoring their angry shouts. He finally burst out the double doors and onto 65th, nearly falling flat on his behind because of the ice. His feet spun out on the slick sidewalk for a few moments before he was hurtling toward Amsterdam Avenue. Dot's cries were getting fainter – he'd always been faster than her, she wouldn't catch up with him until she made it to the testing facility, even if she toon sprinted –

"Hey Warner, looking for something?"

Wakko did his best to stop, but slid awkwardly on the ice, the rock salt grinding beneath his feet. He didn't realize until just now that he had completely neglected to put his boots back on. Forgetting about that for the moment, Wakko spun around to face Jeanie. She was flanked by two older boys who he knew to be Lars and TJ, a Rottweiler and a human toon, who were sneering at him. He had never liked them – they were lazy performers and routinely picked on the younger students. Like Jeanie, they were only in JTAP because their parents were stinking rich.

"I have something you don't have…" Jeanie sang, then pulled out his comic book from behind her back.

Wakko didn't know whether to be relieved that his comic book wasn't lost or horrified that it had wound up in Jeanie's paws.

"Let's see, what do we have here," Jeanie said, flipping through the comic before reading aloud in a nasty mimic of Mickey Mouse, "'Boy-oh-boy, a mystery! And the chief sounded pretty worried, too! Hot dog!'"

Lars and TJ filled in Jeanie's shrill cackle with their own guffaws. Jeanie was laughing so hard that she was squeezing the comic book, crinkling it. Her sharp claws pierced the cover, and Wakko could see a row of tiny tears now savaged his book.

"Give it back!" Wakko demanded. He nearly groaned. He'd meant to come up with something more clever than that.

"Give it back!" Lars taunted.

"Comic books, Warner? Are you kidding me?" Jeanie cried, waving the book around, "Seriously, are you trying to be the biggest freak on the planet? I mean comic books…Disney comic books…"

"I bet your mom still tucks you in at night," TJ sneered.

"Don't be stupid, you need a mom to do that," Jeanie retorted snidely, watching Wakko with yellow slits for eyes.

Before Wakko could respond, Dot came barreling around the corner, caught sight of Wakko and Jeanie, and slid to a stop next to him.

"Wakko – Jeanie!" Dot gasped, "Wakko, she's got your book, she took it out your locker!"

Wakko slapped a hand to his face as Jeanie and the boys burst out laughing. Jeanie gave Dot a demeaning look and drawled, "The little Warner runt is a regular Sherlock Holmes!"

"Dot, just go away, you're embarrassing me," Wakko whispered hoarsely.

Plunking her hands on her hips, Dot snapped, "Oh, I'm embarrassing? You're the one who still reads comic books!"

"Better listen to your mom, Warner," Jeanie teased, jerking her thumb at Dot, "That's how it works in your family right? You don't have real parents so you have to use your brothers and sisters instead?"

Dot whipped around with an appalled look on her face. Not remembering her ever having a direct encounter with Jeanie before, Wakko thought that Dot wasn't aware that someone could say something so mean. Well, welcome to the real world, sis.

But now Jeanie and the boys were laughing again…which meant that they were distracted. This was his only chance. There was no room for decision making now. Too upset to think, concentrating only on the book, Wakko jerked his arm back and flung it forward as hard and as fast as he could. Just like he had practiced in the morning, Wakko watched with satisfaction as his arm stretched out ten feet, fifteen feet – his hand was right on target, Jeanie was too shocked to react, he was going to grab the book, he was going to get it –

Wakko knew it was going to go wrong a second before it happened. Just as his fingers wrapped around the comic book, the rest of his arm snapped down like a whip. Even though he hadn't taken his test yet, Wakko knew that definitely was not supposed to happen. A wild pain shot up past his elbow, followed by a burning sensation. Unable to control his arm, it snapped back against his shoulder like a tape measure that had been pulled out too far and then released. The pain made Wakko gasp and grit his teeth, and his arm flopped loosely against his side, his hand still clutching the comic book.

"Oh dude!" Lars guffawed, "Look at his arm!"

Breathing heavily, Wakko looked down at his arm nervously. His stomach turning, he noticed that it was about two inches longer than his other arm…that had never happened before…oh shit, why wasn't it going back to normal? What had he done? His arm felt rubbery and weak, it was shaking, and every little movement made it hurt. But he had gotten the book, at least he had gotten the book…

"Idiot, he has the book!" Jeanie snapped.

"Not for long," TJ growled.

As TJ and Lars hunkered down, Wakko took a step back. He wanted nothing more than to sock it to the two thugs, but not only were they outnumbered, but Dot was useless in a fight and now his arm was busted. As embarrassing and as it was, he was going to have to run away from a fight. With his good arm, Wakko grabbed the comic book and flung it behind his back as he turned toward Dot.

"Move!" he shouted, giving her a shove.

"But – " she protested.

Lars and TJ were lunging toward him, with Jeanie bringing up the rear. Wakko's eyes widened in panic. This was so unmanly…

"Dot, move it!" Wakko said, pushing her as he ran down the sidewalk.

"But the testing center's the other way!" Dot cried.

"Yeah, the same direction as the two guys who want to punch a hole in my face!" Wakko snapped back.

Dot was at least running in step with him now, but she pressed on, "You're gonna be late for your test if you don't stick up to those goons!"

"Oh yeah, 'cause having a broken head too will really help me out on my test!" Wakko shot back.

They continued to argue as they sprinted down the sidewalk towards Central Park, with Jeanie and her gang close behind.

Bosko acquires squirtgun manufacturer in Tijuana

Former WB star Bosko is the majority stockholder and new CEO of Plásticas de Paula (PDP). PDP, which is located in Tijuana, Mexico, is primarily responsible for squirt gun manufacturing. Bosko, who is well known for his financial fumbles in recent decades, has not responded to requests for comments no matter how many times I ask. Bosko has appointed former Disney star Mortimer Mouse as COO.

Standing on the corner of 66th and West End, Yakko's brow furrowed as he read, and re-read, the short article in the newspaper. He shivered – how he hated this constant, damp cold – and brought the paper closer to his face. For something he was hoping would illuminate things, this article was proving to be the most confusing thing he'd ever read. And he had proofread Ralph's wedding vows.

He glanced up at the author: Shirley. Of course. That partially explained why not one bit of it made sense.

Why would Bosko, fame-hungry, money mis-managing Bosko, want to be the CEO of some random squirt gun factory in Mexico? How did he even pull that off? And the fact that Bosko declined comment – that was enough to make Yakko feel like he'd ventured into the Twilight Zone. Bosko was notorious in Toontown as a fame-hound; he encouraged the paparazzi to take controversial photos. He added credence to the ridiculous rumors. There was no such thing as bad publicity to Bosko.

It was too bad that Bosko had to work so hard to get publicity at all. From what Yakko had heard, Bosko had a bit of a chip on his shoulder ever since Bugs had taken his place at Warner Brothers. Bosko had barely found work – as far as Yakko knew, his only work in the last ten years had been a cameo on Tiny Toons. But Bosko had routinely made headlines for raucous Hollywood parties, multiple arrests for lewd behavior and disorderly conduct, and a lavish lifestyle that did not quite jive with his bankrupt status. There had also been quite a few headlines in the tabloids detailing Bosko's habit of spending a lot of very illegal time with women. It seemed that Bosko could not accept what he was: a has-been.

The last line of the article had really thrown Yakko for a loop. Mortimer Mouse? Another has-been. The last Yakko heard, Mortimer was actually in New York as well. He only knew this because Rebecca, in one of her many less reputable nights, had whispered to him that she had bought drugs from Mickey Mouse. Having long suspected Rebecca of being an idiot, Yakko had not been surprised at her admission of recreational use. What had surprised him, however, was that Mickey Mouse had been her supplier. When he pressed her, Rebecca finally came to the conclusion that Mortimer, not Mickey, was her dealer. Then she accused Yakko of always having to be right.

Well, it wasn't that hard to be the right one when you were with Rebecca.

Yakko had no idea that Mortimer and Bosko had formed any kind of relationship aside from a rivalry. A pointless rivalry intended to get media attention, but a rivalry nonetheless. Oh well, Bugs had said that La Caricatura was being swallowed up by drug trafficking – Mortimer should feel right at home.

Stuffing the newspaper behind his back, Yakko made his way down the street. Wakko's test should be starting any minute now. Poor kid, he had looked so nervous this morning...Yakko was nervous for him. Not that he doubted his little brother's abilities – Wakko was pretty wildly talented in his unbiased opinion – but Wakko was his own worst enemy. His nerves had a habit of getting the better of him.

Wakko wasn't so much an actor as he was wonderfully gifted at being himself. All of his performances were genuine, he put himself into whatever he did. Yakko just wished he could inject some of that on-camera confidence into Wakko's daily life.

Yakko turned the corner and marched up the cement stairs of the B.B. Toon Facility. Scowling, her remembered that the B.B. stood for Bugs Bunny – the rabbit had spent a good portion of his life in New York, it made sense that he would fund the facility.

Maybe Bugs did it because he thought the "children" needed help.

Stomping the slush off his feet with a little more force than necessary, Yakko walked inside. Having taken his own test in California, Yakko was new to this testing center. This one was smaller, a little less clean, but it was still the same generic, white-walled, bland testing center he was familiar with. A desk full of pamphlets was on his right ("I've Removed My Limb, Now What?") and another table full of testing applications on his left.

Beyond the lobby was a large, open room lined with rows of chairs. In the chairs were young toons who looked anxious, anticipating their test, as well as their bored-looking family members. Scanning the crowd, Yakko saw no sign of Wakko or Dot. Wakko must already be taking his test, but where was Dot? Frowning, Yakko continued to search until he noticed a few people looking at him, pointing and whispering. He barely suppressed an eye roll – he couldn't believe people still considered him a celebrity.

He approached the front desk where a beagle toon was behind a plate of glass and staring vacantly at a computer screen, not even glancing up.

"'Scuse me," Yakko said, clearing his throat, "I made an appointment for my brother, should be under Warner."

The beagle glanced up dully, blinked, then did an exaggerated double take.

"Yakko Warner?" he cried loudly.

Yakko sighed. Several heads had turned in his direction. "Yes, that would be me," he said with a false smile.

"Oh my – holy crap, it's you, I – you – it's such an honor – my name is Tug – big fan – you're amazing – did you really live in a tower?" the beagle named Tug gushed.

"Thank you, and no," Yakko said, "But anywho, my brother – "

"No tower? Oh man, that would have been so boss! You're on Broadway now, right? You're like that crazy Phantom guy, right?" Tug exclaimed.

" – he has an appoint – what?" Yakko sputtered, "No, I'm not the Phantom, I'm Marius in Miser-toons – "

Tug slapped his forehead. "Oh yeah, sorry, I always get them confused!"

"Really? I didn't think that was possible – "

"Dude, I bet you get the Animaniacs song stuck in your head all the time, right? I know I do! It's like my brain just won't stop playing it!"

"Eh, you might want to get that checked," Yakko said, frowning a little.

Tug breezed past him with, "Hey man, do you still sing that song with all the countries?"

Yakko rubbed the back of his neck and eyed the door. Maybe he'd just wait for Wakko and Dot outside. "Well, I still know it, you don't really forget that kind of thing – "

"No way!" Tug cried, "Sing it, dude, sing it! Sing the countries song!"

For a brief moment Yakko wondered if his public image could withstand the bad publicity that would be born of dropping an anvil on Tug's head. He quickly decided against it, reasoning that Tug probably didn't even pass his Class D test. But as Tug continued to demand a performance, Yakko noticed that most people in the lobby were staring at him now. Great. If Wakko had trouble with his test for some reason, he was going to have to come out to sixty pairs of eyes on him.

Determined not to become Tug's performance monkey, Yakko said, "You know what, I think I'll pass on this one, I need to know where my siblings – "

"Sing it, please! You know, United States, Canada, Mexican, Pakistan!" Tug encouraged.

Yakko raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, I don't know that version, but since you obviously sing it so much better than I can, I'll let you take the stage. Besides, I need to rest my voice for tonight's performance," he lied smoothly.

"Oh right, yeah, Mario – "

"Marius."

" – of the opera. That's so cool!" Tug exclaimed.

"Uh huh," Yakko said, deadpan, "So back to what they're paying you to do here…my brother should be testing right now, last name's Warner, I just wanted to check in to see where he and my sister are at."

"What? Oh," Tug said, as though he just remembered he was at his job, "Let's see here…oh yeah, they never checked in."

"What?" Yakko asked, startled.

"Wakko, right? Kid who looks like you?" Tug asked.

Yakko nodded quickly. "Yeah, that's him. You see him?"

"Nope, never checked in, looks like he missed his test," Tug said flippantly.

"The school – JTAP – they never called?"

"Nope."

"Water main bursts? Burglaries? Anything that would have detained them?"

"Nope, nope, and nope."

Resisting the urge to rip his own ears out, Yakko snapped, "My brother and sister never show up, why was that not the first thing you decided to tell me?"

"Well, you wouldn't stop talking!" Tug reasoned.

"I – nevermind!" Yakko barked. He whipped around and dashed out of the facility, aware of but ignoring the stares that followed him.

"Dot hurry up!"

"Why don't you slow down then?"

Growling in frustration, Wakko pounded across the snow covered hills of Central Park. While Dot was several paces behind him, they at least were both in better shape than Jeanie the two older boys seemed to be – they were trailing a good ways behind. But trailing nonetheless; they had been chasing him and Dot for what had to be twenty minutes now.

There was no way he was going to be on time for his test.

Ignoring the horrible lurch in his stomach at that thought, Wakko barked at Dot to hurry up again. If it wasn't for her, he would have easily lost Lars and TJ by now. Dot was fast for a girl, but she was still a girl. For the second time, Wakko considered just ditching her – Lars and TJ would probably go after him anyway – but knowing his luck she'd get lost or something stupid and he'd get blamed for it and Yakko would skin him alive. That is, if Yakko didn't already bury him for missing the test.

"Get back here, you little shits!" he heard TJ yell.

If he wasn't so exhausted Wakko would have rolled his eyes – as if he was going to turn around and march right back to them. Skipping over a small fence, Wakko dashed through the underbrush. If there were any Central Park officers on patrol they were going to have a fit, they had already yelled at him a month ago for playing in the creek. But he didn't care, right now he had to find somewhere to hide, and he wasn't going to find that where the public was allowed. His feet, which were used to the protection of boots, had long since gone numb. Most adult toons didn't wear boots in the winter – in Burbank you never had to wear them – and Wakko had tried several times to go bootless in the snow but Yakko wouldn't have it. But cold feet were the least of his worries now.

"Wakko, wait up!" Dot cried.

Wakko glanced over his shoulder. Behind him, Dot doing her best to keep up while avoiding getting her clothes caught in the scrub, carefully picking her way through the brush.

"Maybe if you weren't so worried about your outfit you could run faster!" Wakko yelled.

"Maybe if you weren't so worried about your stupid comic book we wouldn't be running in the first place!" Dot snarled back.

Wakko opened his mouth to reply, but slipped suddenly on an icy log. His feet shot out from under him and he was tumbling down. Before he hit the ground he let himself go rubbery to avoid getting hurt. But his arm was too damaged, while the rest of his body went soft his arm remained the same, and Wakko cried out in pain as he smacked against the rock hard ground. The next thing he knew he was rolling end over end, down a hill, branches cracking beneath him as he tumbled, before he splashed into something icy cold. Water surged up his nostrils and he coughed violently – he had landed right in the creek. Pushing himself up, he felt the freezing water soak his gloves through and chill his fingers. Then his bad arm gave out beneath him and he fell face first back into he creek.

"Nice one, slick," Dot commented as she edged her way down the small hill Wakko had just wiped out on.

"S-s-shut up," Wakko growled as he shivered. It was her stupid fault he'd fallen anyway. Pulling himself out of the mud and slush, Wakko dragged himself to the other bank. He couldn't stop shaking, his arm was killing him, he was breathing so hard he had a stitch in his side, he missed his test…

Watching him from the opposite bank, Dot cupped her hands around her mouth and called, "Now what, Einstein?"

Wakko's teeth were chattering so hard he couldn't answer her. Not that he could have even if they weren't.

TJ's hulking form suddenly crested the hill. He sneered down at Dot as he said, "Oh look, the little Warner runt is across shit creek without a paddle!"

"Get your adages right, pal!" Dot shouted. But her face was tense and nervous as she eyed TJ as well as Lars and Jeanie, who looked winded but had made their way to the top of the hill. Crouching down, TJ scooped up a ball of snow and chucked it at Dot, who shrieked and ducked out of the way. Lars and Jeanie doubled over with laughter as TJ began to gather up another snowball.

"Dot g-get out of the w-w-way!" Wakko shouted between shivers.

"Look, he s-s-s-stutters now too!" Lars chuckled.

"Bet I can make his sister stutter," TJ said maliciously. He grabbed a large, icy chunk of snow and balled it up, sneering as he eyed Dot.

Visibly gulping, Dot's eyes widened. She looked at the expanse of the creek, then at her boots, then up at TJ. Not once did she look at Wakko. Then, Dot did the last thing he expected her to do: she ran toward TJ.

"Dot, what are you – " Wakko shouted, but stopped as Dot turned around abruptly. Keeping her eyes on the creek, she sucked in a deep chest full of air, then sprinted toward the bank. At the very edge of the water, Dot jumped. Not just any jump, Dot did a toon jump. She launched herself unnaturally high and fast, her body stretched as she became airborne, and even Jeanie looked mildly impressed. Dot cleared the creek easily, and her body squashed as she landed on the other bank. It would have been great if the force of her momentum hadn't carried her forward, causing her to stumble awkwardly and fall on her knees.

Jeanie broke out into fresh, piercing laughter, while TJ looked slightly annoyed that his quarry had escaped. Wakko didn't know where Jeanie got off laughing, she probably couldn't jump over her own tail. Turning to Dot, he saw that she had gotten to her feet. She was gazing down at her purple and pink striped tights. They were torn at the knees and stained with grey, dirty slush.

Clenching her fists, Dot glared at him. "Now look what happened, these were my favorites, thanks a lot!"

Wakko, who had been on the verge of complimenting Dot on her jump, blinked in shock. "What are you blaming me for? You're the one who fell!"

"I wouldn't even be in this situation if you hadn't decided to be five-years-old – "

Dot was cut off as a snowball whizzed past Wakko's shoulder. They turned to see Jeanie, Lars and TJ armed with snowballs and hurling them as hard as they could at Wakko. They kept barely missing him on the left side, and Wakko was wondering why their aim was so off until one caught him directly in his bad arm. Those jerks – they were aiming for his injury. Gritting his teeth, Wakko snatched up some snow with his other hand and hurled it at TJ's face. Unfortunately he was a lefty, he couldn't throw with his right. The snowball soared wide, completely missing all three of them.

Jeanie watched it whizz past her nonchalantly. Turning her hateful gaze back onto Wakko, she jeered, "Reads comic books, stutters, and can't aim for shit…how you got famous I'll never know, Warner."

It happened very fast. One moment, Jeanie's scrunched, snotty face was sneering down at him. The next, a large, dirty slushball struck her directly in the face, splattering everywhere with a wet slap! Jeanie gasped and spit out little chunks of ice, too stunned to do anything at first. TJ and Lars said nothing. They just stared. Whipping around, Wakko looked at Dot. She wiping slush off of her gloves with a very satisfied look on her face.

Seconds later, TJ and Lars burst out in loud laughter. Jeanie, who wiped the slush off of her face with a sharp flick of her wrist, shot them both glares before her yellow eyes darted to Wakko and Dot.

"You're dead – both of you," she snarled.

"Don't know why you're upset," Wakko said, pointing to her face, "that slushball was an improvement!"

"If you think this is an improvement, wait til you see what I do to your face!" Jeanie shrieked, but then immediately turned to the boys, "Lars! TJ! Drag his ass up here!"

Even though they were still laughing, Lars and TJ were crouching down, preparing to jump the creek. Wakko swallowed – the plunge into the icy water had zapped what little energy he had left, and his arm was aching worse than ever…if they were going to give chase again, he didn't know if he could outrun them now, let alone Dot…

Hoping he sounded braver than he felt, Wakko shouted, "I'd like to see you try, you have no idea what I've got hanging around my hammerspace!"

To both Wakko's pride and utter astonishment, Lars and TJ stopped in their tracks. They blanched, suddenly looking worried, scared even. Atop the hill Jeanie was slowly backing up.

"Dude, run!" Lars yelped. He and TJ wheeled around, slipping in the ice and slush, and stumbled over each other in an effort to get back up the hill. Jeanie had already hightailed it out of there.

Wow. That was a lot easier than he was expecting. Puffing out his chest, Wakko smirked – his reputation as a potential Class A Candidate must have preceded him.

"Uh, Wakko…"

He turned to Dot, who looked neither proud nor impressed. Instead, she was staring into the woods behind them with a look of terror on her face. Wakko whipped around and followed her gaze. Emerging from the bushes were four weasel toons. And they didn't look friendly.