Early Days

[Blooper]

I've been working on this for a loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong time.


INTRODUCTION


Well, well, well, look at what the cat dragged in. You probably picked up this book cold, or maybe because it looked interesting, right? With the exciting preveiw-thing on the back? Uh-huh, yeah, well, I hate to break this to you, but this book was typed out by a thirteen-year-old and improvised by me. Might not be that exciting if you’re over twenty. Those preveiw things are usually wrong, anyway.
So let me deform you with some useful facts.

Okay. My name is Smart Guy. I’m smart, cool, and pretty neat, not to sound too full of myself. And it’s mostly because I’m from a different division. But, to you, I’m nothing like you’ve ever seen before.

Er, I guess maybe on television.

Well, I bet you’re all confused now. Let me explain.

You’ve seen cartoons, right? Like Batman or SpongeBob SquarePants. Usually, those are drawn and painted.

I resemble that. I’m what you’d call a ‘cartoon,’ but what everybody else would call a Toon. We are very different, you and I.

I wasn’t born; I was illustrated and then animated. I am virtually immortal; Nothing can kill me (Or so I thought). I can do what you call ‘Air Walking’ (Unless I looked down; then you’d say I was ‘Air Thin’). I can do things that are totally impossible in reality.

I AM impossible. I mean, I’m a talking animal, for Pete’s sake! What was I thinking?

Ugh. I’m sure you want to know what species I am.
Weeeeeeeeeeell, this is a big risk here. What to do, what to do?
Eh, I’ll just hope you don’t like the song “Weasel Stomping Day”. If you guessed that I’m a weasel, you’ve guessed correctly!

That's me. Me and my buds, us, five misunderstood weasels, lost in a cold, dark world (I need a violin here, pronto!).

There’s my second-hand man, Greasy. That guy is always in and outta trouble. One second he’s behaving like an angel, the next he’s in jail for, eh, being himself, basically. With the patting girls’ asses ‘n’ reaching in their breasts.
He’s tough as a nail. Carries round a switchblade, though I’m sorry to tell you, it’s not for his protection.

And Psycho, well, not much to say ‘bout him. He’s nuts, of course, but he has common sense and is loyal and is worthy of kickin' President Bush’s butt. Very smart, I can’t deny it. Also capable of shredding you to bits with his straight-razor, if he wanted to.

Wheezy, my my, is he the role model for the strong and silent type. Not that he’s so quiet (Hence his name ). Sorta cynical, mellow kind of guy. The surprise is, he’s literally blue. Well, grey-ish blue. He favors his Tommy gun.

And last but not least, Stupid, the living muscle. Yup, a muscle with a stomach. He’s so naïve; he believes in everything. It usually gets him into a lot of trouble. Not that I care much, it’s not my problem. He has a bat with a large nail through the top.

This is our life: A story of greed, sex, and murder. And money and racism, of which actually started all of this.

Welcome to our nightmare.



NOTES:
INCORRECT PRONOUNCIATIONS:
Improvised/supervised
division/demmension
deform/inform

[netske]

Good start.

[Sodapop]

Wow. Boston, this is good! How'd you do that? [peers at chapter one]

[Blooper]

Gee, thanks, everybody!

And I'll keep it PG-13, I promise you all.

[Blooper]

May 25, 2008 9:36:34 GMT -5 Sodapop said:

Wow. Boston, this is good! How'd you do that? [peers at chapter one]

Well, first, you need a keyboard. Then you push the buttons with the squigly lines on them.

[Blooper]

Chap. 1


D’ya know how everything just snaps into perspective, when you’re facing imminent death? Like, say, right now, for instance.

RUN! You’re faster than they are! You can outrun them!

I was running for my life, through a heavily wooded area, aware that I was tired, hungry, and fairly sore all over. I was sore because I was running through practically everything standing in my way.
But that didn’t matter. Just as long as there’s a huge space between me and the humans, I’m just jolly good.

Being shredded to pieces by briars I’d run through? No biggie.

My bare feet hitting every sharp stone, rough root, pointed twig? I could handle.

Accidentally tripping over a branch, falling face first into the mud, and then sliding down into a shallow trench? Now there’s a problem.
As I tumbled down, uselessly back-peddling with my arms waving around and my hands trying to grab the air, I heard the baying of hounds not too close behind me.

Crap.

I could outrun humans, but I couldn’t escape from a big dog.
I finally reached the bottom of the trench, and then started climbing up the other side, which, thankfully, wasn’t as muddy. I frantically pulled myself up from the ditch and ran, ran, ran.
I ran, and then saw a big gap in the trees. Was this a clearing? Please, please, a clearing could save me. I burst through the gap, and…

I skidded to a halt.

In front of me wasn’t a clearing; it was a cliff.

I heard the dreaded dogs behind me bark and yip loudly; They had found their prey: Moi.
They jumped through the gap, too, with the angry mob of humans right behind them.

I faced the cliff.

There was no choice, really.

If you were me, you would’ve done the same thing.

I took a deep breath, and jumped.

The humans started yelling, and the dogs started barking at me. Then I saw a human pull out a rifle, and a red dot appeared on my torn pink suit.

He pulled the trigger.

I saw the bullet come for me, and…

[netske]

Wow, you have perspectives of splendip writer.

[Blooper]

Why, thank-you.

[Blooper]

Chap. 2


I bolted into a sitting position, hand over my heart, gasping. I couldn’t help checking my pink nightshirt. No red laser, no bullet holes.
I flopped back onto my bed, sighing with relief.
God, I just hated that dream. It was always the same: Me running away from some randomly angry people, hurting myself by falling (Or, more appropriately, tumbling) into a ditch, and then being cornered and then having to jump off a cliff, almost escaping, but then just barely being shot.
What time was it? I turned slightly, peering out the window. Sunshine was just beginning to pour in; It was about 7:00.
I decided I should get up. Right at that moment, my alarm clock decided to annoy me.

RIIING! RIIING!

I shifted to one side and whacked my alarm clock, which fell to the floor. I slid out of an ordinary bed; white pillow, red sheets, all stacked up on top of a cheap bed frame made out of chestnut-colored mystery wood.
I pulled out a white dress shirt and a hot pink tie from my dresser, which I put on. Amazingly, Wheezy put the laundry away.
I put on my light pink Zoot suit coat and picked up my hat and gun, which were sitting next to each other on my nightstand. I heard a Crash! in the kitchen, and I hurridly stuffed my gun into a hidden pocket on the inside of my coat.
I walked into the kitchen, and found Greasy crouching on the floor, cleaning up bits of plate and egg. He glanced up at me and gave me one of those grins that said, “Oops, eh heh.”

“Good morning, Boss.”

“Morning, Grease.”

“I was trying to make breakfast.”

“Yup, I can see that,” I said, watching him scoop the broken glass and destroyed egg.

“So, the others are still sleeping?”

I walked over to the cupboards and took out five glasses, which I set down on the kitchen table, and opened the fridge to get the orange juice. “Yup.”

"Really."

I put the put one cup by each of the five plates, which Greasy had set up. I took a sip out of mine. “Yeah. But their dreaming ain’t lasting.”
I walked out of the room and shut the door, but then I opened it back up a few inches and I stuck my head inside. “I’ll be bock,” I said, imitating Arnold Schwarzenegger from “The Terminator.”

Greasy just rolled his eyes and dumped the broken plate and egg into the trash. I grinned at him and closed the door.
Wheezy’s room was first. I opened the door and peeked inside, only to find that he wasn’t in there. I stepped further into his room, turning my head to see if he was by the closet. No Wheezy.
Then I heard a familiar raspy, wheezing voice close to my head, which made me jump, startled. “Why, hello. Fancy meeting you here.”

I whirled around. “Oh, ha, ha, ha. Very funny. Will you quit that?!” I said, irritated.

Wheezy just chuckled and started making his way toward the kitchen.
I sighed and ajusted my suit. Next destination, Psycho and Stupid’s living quarters.
The door creaked when I pushed it open. The room was dtill dark, for the curtains weren’t pulled open yet. Stupid wasn’t in his bed; He was already up, walking down the hall behind me.
I went over to Psycho, who was snuggled up under his blanket. I shook him a bit and said, “Up ‘n’ at ‘em.”

“Huh?” he asked drowsily in his normal high, squeaky voice.

“It’s a new day. Get up and face it.”

He groaned and rolled over. Right onto thin air. He hit the floor with a thud. Helplessly, I tried to stop or at least stifle my chuckles. Unsuccesfully, I might add. He glanced up at me, growling. Still chuckling, I left his room to go eat my breakfast.

[Eternity]

Pretty good, but I think you should have made the chapter longer.

[netske]

I agree with Spikey, you do your fic well.

[Larissa Gaines. (:]

woah. this is really, REALLY good!!!!! kudos to u!!!!!

[Blooper]

Chap. 3


“It’s sunny out. I think we should go to the beach.” Greasy stuffed more toast into his mouth.

Wheezy shrugged, not very interested.
We were sitting at the kitchen table, eating and arguing about what to do that day. So far, we hadn’t agreed on one thing.

“Let’s go visit those little mice, and scare them!” Psycho said happily.

“I vote da beach,” Stupid said.

They looked up at me expectedly. Since I was the one with the most brains, I got to be the leader and make these kinds of decisions. Give the permission. And do a million other things, too. Yay for me.
I wiped my mouth with my napkin. “The beach it is,” I said, not really wanting to go chase rodents around like a complete nutcase. Everybody but Psycho cheered silently.


An hour later, we were surfing the waves. Or at least Psycho was. Me and Wheezy were just lying on our towels, sunbathing, watching Psycho endlessly fall off his rented surfboard. Stupid was making a sand castle, and Greasy kept following this hot chick named Jessica Rabbit around. I've heard she works at the Ink & Paint club, and here’s the catch: She wasn’t a rabbit, she was a Toon human, which probably meant that she was married. Of course, that didn’t stop the Greasemeister.
She once again moved farther away from him, on the edge of the wooden bench, and Greasy once again scooted closer. Then this white rabbit wearing a lame red-and-white striped swimsuit marched over to him and started talking. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it was making Greasy mad, for sure. The rabbit said something and motioned toward the chick, and I got the feeling that she was his wife. He boldly poked Greasy in the chest, but immediately drew his hand back when Greasy started growling like a pitbull. At least, that’s what I thought he was doing, since he had pulled his lips up, showing his teeth, and sort of scowled. I glanced at Wheezy, who was also watching them with great interest.

“Hmm.. Something’s missing. An important puzzle peice.” I smacked my forehead. “Oh, I know, it’s me. Hang on, Wheeze.”

As I walked up, I could hear the rabbit telling Greasy off. I stopped behind him and, unaware that I so close, he continued his speech:
“You can’t just go and take other Toons’ wives! It’s not fair! I’ll call the Police! I’ll call the FBI! I’ll call the CTA! I’m not letting this slide like... like whatever water slides off of,” he finished lamely. I tapped him on his shoulder and he made sort of a sqeaking noise and then jumped and whirled around while still in the air.
“Excuse me, but maybe you could just let him go, and sort of just forget this ever happened-” I said, but the rabbit then interrupted.

“No way, I will stand up for truth and justice ‘til the very end!”

“- and then I wouldn’t have to rip you up into tiny little shredded pieces. Have we got a deal?” I looked at him expectantly. That’s one of the ups of being a Toon weasel; You can get people to leave you alone by just saying a simple sentence. Now, if I were a cute little bunny or puppy or almost anything else, then I’d have a problem with the world. But I don’t. So that’s it.

The rabbit pressed his lips together, deep in thought. After a few moments he made up his mind, looked up at me, and said, “Ok, you’ve got a deal. Put ‘er there, pal!” He grabbed my hand, and I suddenly felt a powerful burst of energy. I pulled my hand away, and he held up his own paw, showing me his hand buzzer, a big grin on his face. The grin faded when I snarled at him, showing my razor-sharp teeth.
“Why you little-!” I said, clenching my fists.
At that he quickly scurried away from me, grabbing the Toon woman and almost dragging her along with him. “Jeepers, you have no sense of humor!”

I sighed and glared at Greasy, who was giggling at me. I snarled and him, too, and he stopped and swallowed. I walked back to my spot beside Wheezy. I sat down on my towel and glanced at Wheezy, who grinned at me, as if saying, "Wow, that went well." I growled and flopped onto my side, suddenly exhausted.


Later that day, after we had returned home, I heard a knock on the front door. Hoping it wasn’t the Police, or the FBI, and that the rabbit wasn’t stupid enough to call the CTA (That moron), I opened the door a crack, just enough to peek outside. I saw a stiff old man wearing a fine black suit and tie. I groaned inwardly, realizing that I had forgotten to pay the last three months’ rent. Wishing I had never heard the knock, I opened the door fully, remembering the house deal and dreading it.
The man glared at me hardily and ripped up a slightly yellowed of peice paper, and I almost gagged. “You have broken your promise. You and your friends can no longer live here. Get your stuff and get OUT.” And with that, he slammed the door into my face, literally. I screeched and jumped back, rubbing my muzzle.

Perfect.

And I thought this day just could not get any better.

Crap.

[netske]

Great chapter.

[Sodapop]

LOL "I'll call the CTA!" xD CTA stands for Chicago Transit Authority, it's a bus system ;D ROFL