Post by Weasel Freak on Sept 21, 2008 17:03:17 GMT -5
The weasels, who had just seen the car that had been trailing behind them halt, quickly rushed inside. The building was big and spacey, no doubt at least as big as the Acme factory. In even further comparison, it also had crates and boxes everywhere.
Smart Guy stopped in front of a large crate. He snapped his fingers and Stupid, Greasy and Wheezy pushed it aside, revealing a small, Toon-sized door with a rather large sign on it that said, “Authorized Weasels Only.” Smart Guy walked closer to it, while reaching into his coat for a key. He unlocked the door. Inside was a steep, dark, narrow staircase with dim light at the bottom, which seemed to be a long, long way down. One by one, Smart Guy, Greasy, Psycho, Stupid and Wheezy entered, with Psycho dragging a spooked Roger down with him. Wheezy paused once inside, and then continued on to lock the door.
At the bottom stood four male weasels near the doorway of a small denlike room made out of dirt and rock; the first one had darkish fur, lighter than Greasy’s but darker than Smart Guy’s, and was dressed in an unbuttoned black leather jacket and cloth pants, a brown leather belt, a white dress-shirt, a blood red tie, a black fedora with a blood red band and half-rimmed black sunglasses. Stupid shifted his feet uncomfortably. Slinky’s expressionless face had always spooked him.
The second one, however, looked more like a southern weasel, for he wore a dull green jumpsuit with a patch on his right leg with a light green turtleneck shirt underneath, and a dull green Corduroy Fray floppy cap. He had a cigarette in his mouth and he was holding a sniper gun, which had “Sleazy” imprinted on it in fancy gold letters.
Weasel number three was shorter and thinner than the rest, even Smart Guy. He wore a black wool sweater, a black hat that looked like one of those French caps artists always wear, and a black raccoon-like facemask. Psycho glared at him; he hated Sneaky and knew he shouldn’t be trusted with this plan.
The fourth one was the only weasel smiling besides Psycho and, just barely, Sneaky. The grin was big and it showed his golden, razor-sharp teeth. He was wearing a green buttoned vest with a white dress-shirt underneath, a white orange-polka-dotted bowtie, and a green fedora with a red band, which half covered his eyes. He had a nametag attached to the right side of his vest. It read, “Zany”. His eyes glittered and he looked at the other weasels playfully (not ‘looking playfully’ as in a ‘suggestive look’, just normal, fun playfulness). He seemed to be worry free.
“Ya brung it?” Smart Guy asked, meaning the DIP Mobile.
“Yeah. Why in God’s name didja bring that rabbit?” Sleazy replied with irritation in his matter-of-factly-sounding scratchy voice. He blew a puff of smoke from his mouth.
“Never mind that, ya mug. Where is it?”
“In the back room.” Even Slinky’s voice was nearly emotionless.
“Hoo, boy! What’re we gonna do with it, big chump?” Zany said in a high, cheezy-sounding voice. He rested an arm on Smart Guy’s shoulder. Smart Guy shrugged it off and glared at him. Zany rose an eyebrow in response, smirking smugly. Smart Guy just growled.
“We needa use it to wipe out downtown,” Sneaky said in his own squeaky, mischievous voice, waving a hand slightly.
“Neatto. But uh, I have an apartment there, dolts. Where’m I gonna find a home after our little game, huh?” he asked, folding his arms.
“That’s your own problem.” Greasy said. Zany made a disgusted face, a face that showed he knew he’ll have to go along with the plan anyways, and shook his head, shrugging. There was a sudden loud “Bang!” upstairs, startling everyone. Roger looked up at the ceiling with the first glimmer of hope since he left L.A.
Smart Guy stopped in front of a large crate. He snapped his fingers and Stupid, Greasy and Wheezy pushed it aside, revealing a small, Toon-sized door with a rather large sign on it that said, “Authorized Weasels Only.” Smart Guy walked closer to it, while reaching into his coat for a key. He unlocked the door. Inside was a steep, dark, narrow staircase with dim light at the bottom, which seemed to be a long, long way down. One by one, Smart Guy, Greasy, Psycho, Stupid and Wheezy entered, with Psycho dragging a spooked Roger down with him. Wheezy paused once inside, and then continued on to lock the door.
At the bottom stood four male weasels near the doorway of a small denlike room made out of dirt and rock; the first one had darkish fur, lighter than Greasy’s but darker than Smart Guy’s, and was dressed in an unbuttoned black leather jacket and cloth pants, a brown leather belt, a white dress-shirt, a blood red tie, a black fedora with a blood red band and half-rimmed black sunglasses. Stupid shifted his feet uncomfortably. Slinky’s expressionless face had always spooked him.
The second one, however, looked more like a southern weasel, for he wore a dull green jumpsuit with a patch on his right leg with a light green turtleneck shirt underneath, and a dull green Corduroy Fray floppy cap. He had a cigarette in his mouth and he was holding a sniper gun, which had “Sleazy” imprinted on it in fancy gold letters.
Weasel number three was shorter and thinner than the rest, even Smart Guy. He wore a black wool sweater, a black hat that looked like one of those French caps artists always wear, and a black raccoon-like facemask. Psycho glared at him; he hated Sneaky and knew he shouldn’t be trusted with this plan.
The fourth one was the only weasel smiling besides Psycho and, just barely, Sneaky. The grin was big and it showed his golden, razor-sharp teeth. He was wearing a green buttoned vest with a white dress-shirt underneath, a white orange-polka-dotted bowtie, and a green fedora with a red band, which half covered his eyes. He had a nametag attached to the right side of his vest. It read, “Zany”. His eyes glittered and he looked at the other weasels playfully (not ‘looking playfully’ as in a ‘suggestive look’, just normal, fun playfulness). He seemed to be worry free.
“Ya brung it?” Smart Guy asked, meaning the DIP Mobile.
“Yeah. Why in God’s name didja bring that rabbit?” Sleazy replied with irritation in his matter-of-factly-sounding scratchy voice. He blew a puff of smoke from his mouth.
“Never mind that, ya mug. Where is it?”
“In the back room.” Even Slinky’s voice was nearly emotionless.
“Hoo, boy! What’re we gonna do with it, big chump?” Zany said in a high, cheezy-sounding voice. He rested an arm on Smart Guy’s shoulder. Smart Guy shrugged it off and glared at him. Zany rose an eyebrow in response, smirking smugly. Smart Guy just growled.
“We needa use it to wipe out downtown,” Sneaky said in his own squeaky, mischievous voice, waving a hand slightly.
“Neatto. But uh, I have an apartment there, dolts. Where’m I gonna find a home after our little game, huh?” he asked, folding his arms.
“That’s your own problem.” Greasy said. Zany made a disgusted face, a face that showed he knew he’ll have to go along with the plan anyways, and shook his head, shrugging. There was a sudden loud “Bang!” upstairs, startling everyone. Roger looked up at the ceiling with the first glimmer of hope since he left L.A.