All Characters Except My Jaggi Di Speckle © Warner Brothers, Used Definitely Without Permission
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Spring Fever - a Tiny Toons Fanfic Simon Barber 1 All characters except my Jaggi Di Speckle © Warner Brothers, used definitely without permission. The wind ripped through the tattered sails as the pirate ship sailed on across storm-tossed, shark-infested waters. The only survivors of the raid stood at the end of the gangplank, precariously balanced over a swarming circle of Great White man-eating sharks and Great Pastel toon-eating barracudas. The Pirate Captain, a short and volatile human with bristling red hair crammed under his black tricorn hat, stood on the deck with a cutlass and flintlock pistol stuck in his belt and a forty-pounder iron cannon pointed down the gangplank. "Right, varmints - time to hop it," he leered, then swept off his hat and held it under his arm in a poetic pose. "Parting is such sweet sorrow." The blue bunny looked down the muzzle of the cannon critically. "You know, Captain Sam, you're going to look silly when you fire that and miss." "Miss? Captain Sam never misses! Ah could part your hare at a mile with this." He snatched up a burning taper. "Now say your prayers." The pink bunny pulled out a tape measure and a plumb-bob and lined them up against the cannon. "Hate to say it, Captain, but you are going to miss. And in front of all your crew. The angles are all wrong" she tsked, shaking her head. "Oh? And what do two helpings of hasenpfeffer know about it?" Captain Sam glared. "Ah'm Captain Sam the terror of the seven seas and ... any other seas ya gots!" "Trust us, Captain. You've got to get more range. For the proper elevation. Back ... back .. back ... That's it." The blue bunny watched as Sam grabbed the cannon's hauling rope and pulled it across the deck, grumbling. "Now hows about it?" Sam stood up, squinting along the barrel. "That's good. That's more like the Terror of the Oceans!" The pink bunny enthused. "But a toony little bit further and ... oh my, it'd be just terrible." She shook her head sorrowfully. "We wouldn't stand a chance." "All right, now you've riled me!" Sam yelled, giving the haul loop an extra hard tug. "No quarter offered nor given, varmints!" Unfortunately he was now standing on the gangplank on the other side of the ship - when the weight of the cannon bent it down and ran him over like a frog under a steamroller on its way down to the waves. A flat toon shape with red whiskers followed it, picked up in the sea breeze and fluttering down like an autumn leaf. There was a loud snapping sound as of dozens of hungry jaws. The bunnies slapped their paws together, standing in perfect symmetry for the camera. As one they chorused - "He’s all washed up. And that's a wrap." From around the ship, the enthusiastic clapping of a score of onlookers broke out. The backdrop was rolled up to reveal a very soaked Pirate half-way down the maw of a Great Pastel barracuda, which he was hammering with the cannonball held as if it was a bowling ball. "Back to props department, ya washed-up critter!" A tall, grey and white furred rabbit looked on with a clipboard, on which he had been taking copious notes. "Got to give them full marks. They ain't been playing hooky all this time. Together there ain't much that they can't do." Yosemite Sam snorted through his dripping red whiskers, as he kicked the fish loose and towelled off. “Them varmints is getting’ just too smart for their britches - them as wears any. Been trying all year to mark ‘em down. Try as I might, rabbit, I can’t.” Bugs grinned, munching an expensive rare-breed Cuban carrot. “Eeh, what did I tell ya, Doc? The more ya puts ‘em to the grindstone the sharper they gets.” The desperado cast Babs and Buster a sour look as the bunnies skipped down the gangplank paw in paw to the now dry studio floor. “Waal, that bunch will be out of our hair fer good come this July. And then … and then …” “And then you’ll miss ’em too?” Bugs queried, his ears cocked. Sam sniffed. “Miss ‘em nuthin’. And then - ah’m a-going out to paint the town red. Fer a week!” Babs and Buster Bunny (no relation) watched as the Pirate Galleon was wheeled away back to the props department. "So, Buster, that's Combined Gag Action 701all finished with. That's the last of that class." Babs gave a manic grin. "First year Action Gag class 101 - remember that?" "How could I forget?" Buster bowed elegantly. "Historical drama, knights and castles. It called for an elegant, refined leading lady ... and there you were." Babs' ears twitched. "Getting knocked into the moat whenever you turned round with your lance, Sir “Classic-spin-around-with-plank-gag”. Twice." "And the fair and gentle knight Sir Buster ... had the drawbridge let down thrice upon his noble head. Such a tender damsel and so very quick with that lever." Buster raised an eyebrow. “Damsel in distress? Distressing damsel … yes!” Spring Fever - a Tiny Toons Fanfic Simon Barber 2 "Well ... Ok, Blue-bruise, honours even. But if we get to do that scene again after we graduate - this time you wear the hooped dress and silly wimple!" "And my sweet and tender damsel shall wear the knight's chain mail pants of rusty iron links next to her sweet fur ... and sit astraddle a horse for six hours instead of me." Buster said. "Incidentally - have you ever ridden a bicycle with a carrot-grater for a saddle?" "Ouch." Babs shivered. "No wonder folk spent half the time at war. There was a lot of friction in the hare." They followed their class out to the break room, where everyone was looking with glee at the new empty slot in their timetables. Buster waved, spotting the green duck and white-feathered loon. "Hiya, Pluckster! Hiya Shirley! So, what are you going to do next week with your free time?" Plucky Duck seemed to swell visibly. "I," he declared "shall spend it devotedly with the most handsome fowl in the forest." Babs gave Buster a nudge in the ribs. "Grade D in Scriptwriting. It's, "beautiful" for girls, not "handsome."" The green duck looked annoyed. "My egg was stamped Grade A, Babs. I shall spend the time in contemplation ... of the sixth level of Astro Blaster." He pulled a games console out of one of his white vest's pockets. Shirley McLoon looked at him and sighed. "And this is my boyfriend, for want of a better word." "Fowlmouth had some better words, but they keep bleeping them out on film," Buster suggested. Plucky turned to the pale loon and bowed, though whether ironically or not was hard to tell. “Shirley,” he announced melodramatically “I know I’ve not always lived up to your expectations. But this is - a token of my esteem, from me, to you.” With a flourish he rummaged in another pocket and handed over a neatly wrapped present, a cube about six inches across. Shirley raised an eyebrow. “Not like you, Plucky. Are you like, three months late or nine early with the New Year resolutions?” “Oh, my heart bleeds. Cruelly wronged again,” Plucky struck a dramatic pose. “In all the long hours of the night - when I’m not there with you - this can keep you company. Use it and think of me.” Shirley’s aura crackled. “This had better not be something mondo disgusting.” “As if I would! Open it and see.” The green duck looked on in anticipation. Babs looked on in equal interest. Seeing Plucky giving gifts was slightly commoner than Montana Max doing so, but not much. “If it’s a booby-trap and it takes you out shall I pound him for you?” She asked brightly. “Why wait?” Shirley muttered. She tentatively pulled the tape off and unwrapped the package. There were a dozen DVDs in there. “If it’s like, whale song or wind chimes then, nice, Plucky.” Her expression fell as she looked at the first one - and darkened as she shuffled the deck of discs to the last one. “Yes.” The green drake beamed. “My finest series - all starring me as Hudson Duck, crime-fighter and private eye extraordinary! Twenty-six hours of classic drama including rare out-takes and blooper reels!” He entirely failed to notice the danger sign of Shirley’s mood ring rapidly changing colour. The sound made by a DVD case being crammed down Plucky’s bill was not quite “bloop” but it was close. “Plucky!” Shirley stood up, her aura crackling like a thunderstorm around a mountaintop “Of all the … conceited, ego-maniacal ducks you are the worst!” She stormed out, her white tail-feathers hiked up in disgust. “What did I do? What did I do?” Plucky spat out the plastic case, looking disconsolate. “I’d have brought her chocolates - but don’t you think she’s putting weight on already? I told her so just last week.” "Try it next time," Buster suggested. "Without the advice. Shirley only eats Fair Trade organic chocolate made from free-range cocoa pods." "Humanely picked by spiritually aware native farmers in touch with the plants' natural forces and feelings." Babs added. Plucky frowned, scratching his head. "Maybe the Hudson Duck wasn't the right approach. Yeah! I've spliced real footage and CG into that wrestling match so it looks like I beat Triangle Man and Universe Man that time.