“Shhh, I’m wabbit hunting”

You wake up one morning and find yourself inside a Looney Tunes cartoon with a burning desire to hunt down a certain Bugs Bunny, no matter the cost. What happens next?

Post your response (500 words or fewer) in the comments below.


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347 thoughts on ““Shhh, I’m wabbit hunting”

  1. NinjaKiara

    Kiara woke up with a start, her ears fluttering slightly. Where was she? This place looked nothing like the Pride Lands it was more….Looney.

    She decided to explore this strange place when her stomach growled. Kiara looked around and found something that could soothe her appetite: a rabbit leaned against a tree, snacking on a carrot.

    Remembering Kovu’s words she felt the earth under her paws so they didn’t shift or make noise, then she pounced. However, the rabbit ducked, causing her to fall on her back.

    “Eh, you need to be more quiet if you wanna catch me, doc.”

    Kiara looked bashful and got up. “I-I’m sorry I-I’m just really hungry.”

    Bugs thought for a moment. This lioness wasn’t a hunter like Elmer Fudd who hunted for sport, she was just hungry. There was no need to be hostile towards her.

    “Wanna bite?” Bugs offered his carrot. Kiara was surprised at his reaction and quickly ate the rest of the carrot. “That was not a bite.”

    “Sorry…again..I’m really hungry.”

    Bugs rolled his eyes a bit. “Come on, I’ll get you some more carrots.”

    Kiara excitedly followed, glad she’d get something in her stomach…and maybe some answers to where she was.

  2. jeff.beyer

    I wake up slowly. Groggy and blurried eyed. Unsure of where I am, or how I got here. When my head finally clears, the six birds flying around my head startle me. I flail my arms wildly to shoo them away and try to get to my feet.
    I am surprised to see that I am all alone in the middle of a desert. A painted desert. Not that the scenery is so colorful and vivid that it looks like a painting. It actually is a painting. As I shuffle my feet along the desert floor the sand smears and mixes with its surroundings, creating a palate of unimaginable colors. I leave colored footprints behind me as I head nowhere in particular.
    I have no idea where I am or where I’m going. The last thing I remember is getting directions from that ugly woman with big feet at the saloon in Albuquerque. The sun is blinding but I think I see a tree in the distance. If anything a little shade may clear my head. As I get nearer I notice a sign on the tree.
    The sign reads “Rabbit Season”.
    While I have never been much for hunting myself the sign excites me. I have the overwhelming urge to find a rabbit…….and kill the rabbit.
    Out of nowhere dark, ominous clouds roll in. Lightning crashes and thunder bellows. The flashes light my face making my maniacal laughter even more threatening. I chant methodically…”Kill the rabbit.”
    Then suddenly quiet.
    “What’s up doc?
    The question comes from behind me. I spin around to find a three foot tall rabbit, with long floppy ears, and big feet standing on two legs, chomping on an absurdly large carrot.
    Without thinking I lunge at the rodent, placing my hands firmly around its neck. It stays uncannily calm and continues to chew incessantly on that carrot. “Kill the rabbit” I repeat relentlessly.
    “What’s up, Doc?” it states unnervingly oblivious.
    Somewhere I swear I hear opera music, but it does not deter me from my mission at hand to “Kill the rabbit”.
    My grip gets tighter and tighter with every menacing “Kill the Rabbit” chorus. But the rabbit never flinches. Just looks directly at me and says. “Doc….its a dream.”
    “It’s NOT a dream!” I yell back.
    “It’s a dream” he says again.
    “It’s NOT a dream!” I return, tightening my grip.
    Removing the carrot from his mouth this time I can see a small grin appear on the corners of his mouth.
    “It’s NOT a dream”, he snaps.
    Not missing a beat I fire back, “its IS a dream”.
    “It’s NOT a dream”, he returns.
    With what seems like my last breath I scream into the rabbits face, “IT’S A DREAM!”
    I wake up immediately. My wife comes to my side and consoles me while I relay the dramatic events of my dream, not leaving out any detail.
    “It was only dream, sweetheart” she says soothingly. “Every body knows that it’s DUCK SEASON.”

  3. Dana Cariola

    The morning air felt differently today. The strong smell of a permanent marker, imbued my room, as I searched underneath of my flannel sheets, for my spectacles. As my clumsy hands, fumbled underneath of my comforter. A voice rang out from the ether. It seemed annoyed with me, each time I ran my hands across the fitted sheet beneath me. Certain, I was still in a dream-like state; I carried on with my search.

    “That tickles! Please don’t do that, again!” the voice demanded.
    Abruptly, I stopped in obedience to the unseen voice.
    “Who said that?” I asked nervously. Still trying to bring the room into focus without the aid of my glasses.
    “Ova here, Doc!” the voice sputtered out, as if it’s mouth was packed like a hamster’s jaw.
    “Whatcha lookin’ for?…Is it bigger than a bread box?”
    “That voice?…I know that voice?” I’d thought to myself. “But, where?”
    “I’ll give you a hint!” the voice replied. “I’m cute, cuddly and I don’t need your glasses. Because my favorite food is carrots!….Which by the way, I’m wearing!…So, you can stop lookin’, Geeze, Who are you?…Mr. Magoo?”
    “Your that rabbit from Warner Brothers?…Awh, Don’t tell me?…I know it starts with an insect?” I stuttered.
    “I beg your pardon?…Not, even close. But, your gettin’ warmer, Doc!”
    “Did you say you have my glasses?…Can I have them please?”
    “What’s the magic word?
    “What?…Oh, the magic word?….Pleeese, May I have my glasses. Mr. Rabbit?”
    “No” the rabbit replied sharply. “But, I’ll give you a Sharpie. So, you can draw yourself a pair.” the rabbit offered.
    “What the hell is going on?…Wait a minute…Your name is Bugs Bunny!”
    “BINGO!” the rabbit exclaimed, as he ran over towards me, and shoved a huge Cuban cigar in my mouth. Lite it, then ran away and hide behind the chest of drawers.
    BOOM! A loud explosion rang my ears, like a Sunday Church bell.
    Terrified by creature, whom I worshiped as a young lad. I leaped out of bed in horror.
    “Oh, No you don’t!” the maniacal bunny cried out.
    “Holy Crap!…Wake up!…Wake up!” I repeated. Over and over.
    “What’s a matta with you?…Snap out of it! The rabbit demanded, as it slapped me in my face. Again and again.
    “STOP THAT!” I snarled back at the fur ball.
    “Or What?…Whata do?..What can you do?” the fiendish rabbit snapped back.

    Suddenly, a shot rang out. “I GOT HIM!…I FINALLY GOT HIM!..GEEZE, THANKS MISTER!”
    “Elmer Fudd?….Oh, No!.. No!…Wake up!…Dam it..Wake up!”
    “How can I ever repay you?….That wrascally rabbit never saw it comin!” Elmer Fudd proudly boasted.
    “You missed!….Now, Gimme that!” demanded the rabbit. As he sprang back from his pseudo demise, and yanked the rifle away from his nemesis.
    “You wouldn’t hurt a man with glasses? Now, would you Mr. Wabbit?” Fudd asked.
    “I might!…I might” Bugs said, poking the business end of the rifle into my chest.
    “Hey, he’s the one who shot you!” nervously I stated.
    “I’m gonna count to three!…If your still here!…Im gonna shoot em’ dead!” the deranged bunny declared. One…two…three!” BANG! sounded the rifle, as a small sign bearing the letters B.A.N.G rolled out of it opening.

    “Wake up!…Wake up! A voice from outside of my head, penetrated this nightmare.
    “Brian!…Wake up!” a woman’s voice sliced through the maddening dream, bringing me back to the waking world.
    The sheets that I had slept in were now soaked through with sweat. As I dragged myself back into reality.

    1. Observer Tim

      Ah, early morning confusion. I can’t say I’ve been through this particular sequence, but I’m very familiar with the state of mind. I hope it didn’t come from sniffing markers or spending too much time at the whiteboard. You did a great job describing it. 🙂

      I’m glad that you telegraphed early on that it would be a dream.

  4. ShamelessHack

    “Eh, what’s up, Doc?”

    “You needn’t refer to my profession, though I do appreciate the reference.”

    “If you untie me, I’ll tell you where my secret stash of carrots is.”

    “No, that’s quite all right. Why don’t I just wheel you over here to the dining room table?

    “These ropes are pretty tight, Doc. Hey, nice candelabra. Who’s the broad?”

    “Mind your manners, Mr. Bunny. ‘Broad’ is crass. This is Agent Starling of the F.B.I. She has graciously agreed to join us for dinner.”

    “She looks kinda out of it, Doc. Is she on drugs or something?”

    “I’ve given her a light sedative, that’s all.”

    “She’s passed out in the fava beans, Doc.”

    “Hold still, Mr. Bunny while I just slice here. And make this radial incision. And now I just lift off the top of your…”

    “That tickles, Doc.”

    “Yes it might. Now I just lift out your brain…”

    “Hey, Doc, I…I…duhhhh….

    “There, Mr. Bunny. How do you feel, now, with no brain?”

    “Duhhhh…I…I…Well, if you must know, Dr. Lechter, I now feel completely competent and prepared to run in the 2016 elections, where I will most probably be swept into office by a landslide, as possessing an empty skull cavity renders me eminently qualified for the position, in point of fact far above those who are already…”

  5. Critique


    Reluctantly he rolled over in bed and opened his eyes. Then he bolted upright at what he saw plastered on every wall. Gigantic pictures of a rabbit in various modes of disguise.

    Bugs Bunny.

    An unfamiliar nasty feeling churned in the pit of his stomach, rising to constrict his breathing.

    Ooh that wascally wabbit. That wabbit cost him plenty of buck shot, hunger pangs, and sleepless nights.

    Wait. Did he just think that?

    Tumbling out of bed he planted his feet in front of the bureau mirror and leaned in. Elmer Fudd glared back, his face red with rage. Yup, this was some dream.

    His burning mission was to bring down that wabbit once and for all. There wasn’t a minute to lose. Urgency presided over his growling stomach. Clambering into his camo overalls, jacket, and cap he picked up the rifle lying under the bed. He checked. It was loaded.

    Outside he was in such a hurry he failed to notice the creature leaning nonchalantly against the gate munching on a carrot until he bumped into him.

    Elmer squinted angrily. “Could you pwease move. I’m hunting wabbits.”

    “Have you got a license to carry that thing.” The floppy eared creature gestured towards the gun Elmer carried.

    Elmer’s forehead crinkled with a puzzled frown. “It’s hunting season for wabbits. Wight?”

    “Well that depends” The creature took a bite of carrot. “What species of rabbit are you hunting?”

    There was something oddly familiar about those floppy ears Elmer thought.

    “Species? Well ah, a… a juicy one for the cooking pot.” Elmer stuttered. “Have you seen Bugs… I mean have you seen any?”

    “Nah you’re wasting your time.” The creature crossed his legs. “No rabbits in these parts.”

    “Out of my way. This gun will blow a hole wight through that bunny’s skinny chest and he’ll drop dead.” Elmer boasted.

    “Say, did you say a hole… drop dead….” One ear went up the other down as he pointed towards his own chest.

    Dropping his carrot Bugs Bunny bounded into the forest.

    “You bwasted wabbit.” Elmer fired wildly.

    Entering the dark forest Elmer stopped short. In front of him stood a damsel holding a platter laden with delectable delicacies.

    “Care for a snack handsome.” She batted her eyes.

    Elmer blushed, propped the rifle against a tree and said, “That looks dewicious. Thank you vewy much.”

    He began wolfing the food as fast as he could swallow.

    “Here, let me.” She dabbed his chin with a napkin then tucked it under the collar of his shirt. “What are you doing all alone in the woods?”

    “I’m hunting. Wabbits.” Elmer spoke between mouthfuls. “A wascally wabbit. Bugs Bunny.”

    One ear went up the other down and the platter hit the ground. Snatching up the rifle the damsel hopped away.

    “You bwasted wabbit.” Elmer choked out but then he noticed all the uneaten food.

    Hunting could wait for another day.

    1. Observer Tim

      This is clever and strange, Critique. Nobody said the MC had to get the rabbit, only that he wanted to. It’s an interesting look inside the head of Elmer Fudd. I guess now we know where the word ‘befuddled’ comes from (or is that the other way around in reverse). Very nicely done! 🙂 🙂

      1. Kerry Charlton

        I couldn’t agree more with Tim’s thoughts. A good lookind damsel holding a platter of goodies, not only would bring me to a dead stop but I dare say 93% of the male population and at least 60% of all women depending on the goodies. Throw in chocolate and Danish and we’d be up to 99.44% stoppage. Add creme brulee`, the world would stop .

      2. Critique

        Thank you for your – as usual – wonderful comments OT. The Looney Tunes drama between wascally wabbit and Elmer’s befuddlement was ongoing – no resolution. Such a fun series – even reruns keep us chuckling.

  6. HotepWriter

    One Way Ticket

    Before the train changed routes, over a thousand passengers were aboard.
    …………….666 passengers remain.

    The screaches from the locomotive racing down the rail doesn’t muffle the screaming bratt in the seat across the aisle “I want my lolly pop!”

    Jason clinches his fist….’I’d like to shove a lolly pop deep into her eye socket.’

    The girls mother ignores her daughter, staring into her compact mirror as she admires her own beauty.

    Jason smirks…. ‘Bitch…..I should crush your skull with my briefcase and squeeze your brains through my fingers like hamburger.’

    The same annoyiing old man paces the narrow aisle, bumping into the Jasons shoulder with each pass.

    Jason grits his teeth….. ‘Touch me again and I’ll rip off your leg and shove it up your ass!’

    The old man turns, staring at Jason with sunken black eyes, “kill the wabbit.”

    “What?” Jason jumps from his seat spinning the man around staring into his aged blue eyes. The old man jerks back his arm, “Do I know you son?”

    Jason shakes his head in disbelief and releases his grip.

    “Noo, No, Im sorry sir…. I thought you said something to me.”

    “Kill the wabbit, kill the wabbit!”

    Jason trembles as he stumbles towards his seat. ” Who said that? Where are you?”

    The annoying little bratt jumps into the aisle, twisting a lolly pop stick deep into her hollow eye. She grins as a stream of blood gushes down her forearm. “Kill the wabbit, Kill the wabbit!”

    The girls mother laughs, “Cynthia, I’ve told you a thousand and fifty times! Get back in your seat!”

    The mother faces Jason, blue veins protrude under her milky white flesh. Her skull explodes as she laughs and shouts, “Kill the Wabbit, Kill the Wabbit!”

    Jasons heart races, “NOOOOOO!”

    After transforming into departed souls, the passengers begin chanting.
    “Kill the Wabbit” “Kill the Wabbit”

    Jason runs down the aisle dodging the freakish arms clawing for him. If he can make it to the luggage car, he can retrieve his ‘murder for hire’ bag and kill all these fuckers. It has served him well, making him New Yorks top assassin.

    Desperately he struggles with the door handle as the devilish creatures charge.

    The chanting grows louder………”Kill the Wabbit Kill the Wabbit.”

    The door handle breaks free, Jasons body lundges forward as he stares at the cyclone of fire the train is traveling through.

    He holds on to the hand rail as the train twist and turns like a serpent through the endless depths of flame.
    Fiery light bounces agianst the window revealing his reflection.

    He is the rabbit…….. Not the hunter……….

    Jason screams “Go to hell” as the old man rips off his leg.

    The old man smiles, “This is gonna hurt.”
    Jason wakes as the annoying little bratt screams, “I want my lolly pop.”

    The mother shouts, “Cynthia, I’ve told you a thousand and fifty one times! Get back into your seat!”

    The train continues its path …….

    1. Observer Tim

      This is a well-written and intense take with the real feel of a nightmare. It’s quite an enjoyable read, Hotep; good job! 🙂

      You might want to avoid the “it was all a dream” ending, as it is way overused.

      1. Observer Tim

        The issue with a dream story is that readers feel cheated when the fact that it is a dream is only revealed at the end of the story. If you reveal it early and then do something with it, the device can produce some truly engaging fiction.

        1. HotepWriter

          Thank you, I threw out a few indicators that this is his hell. I didn’t mean for it to llook like a dream, but I can see how it appears like that. Thanks for the feedback.

  7. cosi van tutte

    Katia said that she didn’t think anyone would actually think of putting Harry Potter in the Looney Tunes. I decided to take that statement as a challenge just for the fun of it:

    I am no one. That’s what my aunt and uncle always say. I am no one of any importance. Just an orphan, a charity case. I should be grateful for the roof over my head and the clean clothes on my back.

    Thing is, I am grateful. True. I don’t always show it. But they never notice when I do show my gratitude. I so often feel like I’m playing a game with them and I can’t win. No matter how hard I try, I say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing. Or strange things happen because of me.

    Like that time I accidently turned their precious son into Frank Sinatra. I don’t even know how it happened, but my aunt blamed me. Then, there was that other time I accidently turned the family car into a hot air balloon and sent it sailing off into the distance. My uncle’s face turned a dangerous shade of red and he yelled at me for two whole hours.

    It’s the three of them against me. Every day. I can’t say anything right. I can’t do anything right. I’m always wrong.

    Today, however, I did something wrong on purpose. I released a snake at the zoo and locked their son inside the snake’s cage. The three of them were furious. I’ve never seen three people turn the same shade of red at the same time. It was funny then. Sigh. It’s not so funny now.

    I’m trying to fall asleep, but their precious little boy is blasting Bugs Bunny cartoons. It’s so loud the house is shaking. I can’t sleep with so much noise, but I close my eyes and somehow I do fall asleep.


    I wake to crunching and munching. It is a vastly unpleasant sound.

    “Neeeya, what’s up, doc?”

    That voice.

    “Hey, laughing boy. You tryin’ to turn into Rip Van Winkle or somethin’?”

    I don’t want to open my eyes. I know what I will see.

    “Come on, sleeping beauty. Open them peepers.” He resumes his crunching and munching.

    And I realize that I haven’t had anything to eat today. I need to eat something. So, I do it. I open my eyes and stand up.

    Bugs Bunny pulls out a top hat and a cane from who knows where and starts singing “The Good Morning” song while tap dancing.

    “Excuse me, but do you have any spare carrots?”

    “Carrots? Carrots?” He stops dancing and grins. “Oh, yes! I have carrots. Lots and lots of carrots.”

    “Can I have one?”

    “Sure ya can, buster.” He gives me a big, sloppy kiss on the lips. “If you can catch me.” And he speeds off into the distance with a cloud of dust trailing after him.

    This might be a dream or it might be reality. A messed up, terrifying reality. Either way, I need food. I race after him and smile as I think about the things I could accidently turn him into.

    1. Observer Tim

      I think Harry is going to be in for a bit of a surprise when he figures out just how hard it’s going to be to make “accidents” happen with bugs. After all, “Abraca-pocus.” (Transylvania 6-5000). Nice spot of crossover-fiction. 🙂

      1. Kerry Charlton

        Oh, I really like this Amy. The words just jump from the screen. My favorite line, ‘Oh yes! I have carrots. Lots and lots of carrots………… ” and also ‘If you can catch me’. I am surprised there aren’t 600 responses to this prompt. I could write a hald-dozen more if I only had the time.

      2. cosi van tutte

        Thanks, OT!

        Yeah, I’d say that Harry’s in for a rude surprise. Especially since this takes place before he ever goes to Hogwarts. He doesn’t know any actual spells yet and his magic ability is completely unfocused. So, just about anything could happen and/or go wrong. And, given that he’s chasing Bugs Bunny, it will go wrong. Poor Harry. 🙂

    2. Ken

      Cosi, I REALLY liked the way this was written! The flow actually, you know.. flowed. And I Didn’t think the Harry & Bugs combo would’ve turned out this well. Great writing!

  8. Ken

    I used to daydream about what life would be like inside of a cartoon but I never thought I’d actually become a character. I had been working with the Shadow Agency for about 11 years and they never ceased to amaze me with the missions they would have me carry out and; this being no different. Freeman, the director of the Shadow Agency, called me into an office of about 12 people who looked like kids but had the demeanor of militants. They all stood up and saluted as I walked in and didn’t sit down until I did.

    “What’s with the children?” I asked as I sat next to a serious seven year old.

    “These are your allies, Kevin.” Freeman said as he made his way to the front of the projector. “We need you to bring down a familiar being, shall we say.”

    Freeman pressed a button on the wall that lowered the projector screen and what was playing had me both confused and giddy.

    “Eh, what’s up Doc?” A familiar phrase blurted from the screen as Freeman paused the video on a four- foot tall, gray-haired rabbit. I couldn’t help but smile at the five-second clip, an opposite reaction to my teenage allies who simply stared at Freeman, waiting on the next bit of information.

    “Freeman, I don’t-“

    “I’m going to explain.” He interrupted. Jack “Bugs Bunny” Rabbit and every character transmitted through the cartoon platform are all products of a terroristic influence. Bright colors and animated entertainment keep the youth hypnotized while messages of war and racism subtlety creep into their subconscious minds.”

    I stared at Freeman for a moment, trying to grasp what he had just said. “So, you basically want me to catch a cartoon?”

    “Not just catch.”



    Three hours later, the allies and I were strapped in the Cosmic Portal where we would soon be transferred to Bugs’ location. “Remember, the place you will arrive in is nothing like this world.” Freeman said before initiating the transfer sequence. “The only way you will be able to complete this mission is by using your brain and your allies.”

    Before I could allow his words to sink in, my chair began vibrating furiously, matter started to deconstruct right in front of my face, and huge flashes of white light temporarily blinded me. A few seconds later, vibrant colors and a flood of sounds slowly crept back in as if I was experiencing a crescendo of reality or seeing and hearing for the first time. As the world came into focus I noticed the allies around me, waiting for me to adjust to the new world. The one I sat next to in the briefing room pushed a button on his watch and spoke into the receiver.

    “He’s here.” The kid said.

    “Ask Freeman if he has any Intel on Bugs’ last location before we make any moves.” I said.

    The seven year old just looked at me blankly and pointed behind me. Before I could turn around, the crunching sound and oblong shadow had tipped off who it was. A furry finger tapped me on the shoulder and took one last bite with a fierce crunch.

    “Eh, what’s up Doc?”

    1. cosi van tutte

      Hi, Ken!

      “I’m going to explain.” He interrupted. Jack “Bugs Bunny” Rabbit and every character transmitted through the cartoon platform are all products of a terroristic influence. Bright colors and animated entertainment keep the youth hypnotized while messages of war and racism subtlety creep into their subconscious minds.” <- Awesome conspiracy theory. Just so you know. 🙂

    2. Observer Tim

      I get the impression of a deeper story here, Ken, and one I’d really love to read. This is a great setting you’ve created, and a chilling story. I’m curious to see where it’s going. Great job! 🙂

      1. Kerry Charlton

        I agree wih Tim on this one. It’sa great set up for a dark tale, look at the charactrs, including Fudd to conspire with and then you’ll have to get rid of Fudd and someone else would appear and it would go on and on. More, Ken?

    3. Critique

      Oh no! Looney Tunes has subliminal messages about terrorism etc? A chilling story. This could be expanded into multiple stories/a novel – something I would definitely read.

  9. SheepCarrot

    The sound of loud obnoxious music wakes me, and right away I know something isn’t right. The world is bright with exaggerated colors but lacks fine details. I’m moving but unable to control my actions. I tell myself this isn’t real, even as I feel the hunter’s drive to shoot critters pulls me along. The duality is disturbing, to say the least.

    I clutch a double-barreled shotgun in my hands as I creep through the forest, my feet silent in my hunting boots. I turn slightly to the right, put a finger to my lips, and say to no one in particular, “Shhh, be vewy vewy quiet…I’m hunting wabbits!”

    I try to move, to say something, but I’m confined in the scripts of the cartoon I saw hundreds of times while growing up. A duck and a rabbit fight over who’s “in season” but no one gets hurt. Feathers fall and beaks are readjusted. I must be a bad shot.

    It goes dark; there’s a scene and wardrobe change. I’m singing “kill da wabbit!” over and over to Wagner, all while in a shiny breastplate and Viking helmet. There’s a trip to the barber, a very fat and disproportionate white horse with pink mane and tail. After much drama and a little death, the lights go down again. The rowdy music is back, signalling the end to my nightmare.

    Or so I thought.

    I’m taller, young. Broad shoulders, slim waist, short legs. Very short legs, in fact. I wear a snug black t-shirt and jeans. Sunglasses. I’m certain I’m cooler than the Fonz, though this new self of mine doesn’t know who that is.

    I kiss my momma on the cheek, walk down the hall and strike a pose in the mirror. I run a comb through my blond hair and flex my muscles.

    “Damn, I’m pretty!”

    1. Observer Tim

      I’m not sure whether this MC is in hell or not. TV-land is full of good-looking people with problems that can be solved in 30-60 minutes, but in a world of vapid plots and unthinking idiots. You did a great job twisting the plot, SheepCarrot. Imagination-stirring and fun! 🙂

      1. Kerry Charlton

        I need you to carry on with this. For a moment I thought you were describing Travolta in ‘Grease’ but not with blonde hair. You’re the only one who knows where this is going, so why not show us?

        1. SheepCarrot

          (I hadn’t intended on going further with the story, but here goes, Kerry!)

          I admire my physique in the mirror for a minute before leaving the house. As I had the urge to hunt rabbits when I first woke to this cartoon world, my hunt had now changed with my new identity—ladies.

          I see my neighbor approaching—a nerdy kid with thick glasses that speaks Klingon and completes calculus problems for their entertainment value. “Johnny!”

          I cringe internally as I brush past him. “Not now, Carl.” The sight of an animated beauty has caught my persona’s eye, and I’m a blur as I move to her side. She’s got legs twice as long as mine, a perfect figure, and flowing red hair. “Hey sexy mama. Has anyone ever told you I have beautiful eyes?”

          Even as I speak them I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. Watching the show always made me groan with his pathetic pick-up lines that forever revolved around him—now me—without any genuine interest or feeling toward the woman the words were directed to. I know what’s coming now, as it always happens, and moments later I’m picking myself up from the heap she beat me into.

          The show carries on, the script continues. As with my last “identity” one situation flows to the next. I’m a mute mouse being chased by an equally silent gray cat. A bear in a hat and tie out stealing campers’ lunches. A white horse wearing a black hat, cape, and mask and carrying a guitar. A flying squirrel with goggles.

          I pray my insanity will end, for that’s what this must be. The darkness returns between scenes, and I wonder what incarnation I’ll resurrect as this time. Something cold and wet touches my hand and I hear a whine. I know that whine. I force my eyes open, back in my own world, my pit bull nosing my hand as she demands to go out.

          I run a hand over my weary face and lift myself out of the recliner. “I’m coming, baby girl.” She cocks her head to the side as I shut off the TV. My head is pounding, as if all the mallets, anvils, and pianos were real, but I know it’s just the new medication. “Never again, girl. Ambien and Cartoon Network just don’t mix.”

          1. Kerry Charlton

            Boy you really hit a nerve with the second part. Loved it and when I saw the Ambien, Ideas exploded. I took it years ago under doctor’s advice. When I would get up in the middle of the night and use the bathroom, the wallpaper would float off the walls and started heading toward me.

            Would that make a good theme for ‘Lost Weekend 2’ ?

          2. Observer Tim

            Bravo, Sheepcarrot! I’m guessing your MC learned about the mystic life of cartoons to become a Yogi, though at the end he seemed a little Rocky. 🙂

            Nice continuation; I’m not so happy about the hallucination ending (it’s a twist on the ‘it was all a dream’ trope, which I’m not fond of), but a lovely walk down memory lane.

  10. Kerry Charlton

    Saturday Morning Chaos

    I sat in my living room watching three of my grandkids, eyes glued to TV Land, with a Bugs Bunny cartoon on the screen.

    “Elmer Fudd looks just like you Pop Pop,” one grandson said.

    “You think so, do you Chuck?”

    “Well maybe you’re taller.”

    “I want you to look at something,” I steered his face toward the screen.

    “See that hole in the middle?”

    “This one?” he put his finger on the portal.

    “That’s it, goodbye Chuck.” I pushed the little monster through it. He screamed
    his head off and grabbed my shirt at the last minute and we both went through.

    “Oh fine, now I’m in here with you.”

    “This is really neat Pop Pop, look at all the colors, thank you.”

    “Oh, of course you’re welcome.” My heart started to warm to the seven year old.

    “Where is that damn wabbit?” ‘Did I really say that?’

    “What Pop Pop?”

    “I meant to say, ‘where is that rab….wabbit?”

    “You’re funny Pop Pop.”

    “Never mind, you see that old geezer beside the tree?”

    “Is that Elmer Fudd?”

    “Yep, I want you to go over and talk to him?”

    “Why? He’s got a gun Pop Pop.”

    “He’s a cartoon, he won’t hurt you. I need to get behind him and take his gun”

    I slipped around the forest without Fudd noticing as Chuck walked up and said,


    “Don’t bother me kid, I’m looking for Bugs”

    “You’re mean mister, you’re just an old,… just an old …breezer, so there!

    I was prepared to spring when I heard,

    “I taut I say a puddy kat.”

    I looked up and bird shit splat in my right eye. I ran off to the small stream I had
    noticed earlier, pain was unbearable. Meanwhile Tweety Bird flew away dodging Fudd’s
    buck shot. Across the meadow, Bugs Bunny sat in his wabbit hole laughing his ass off.
    Chuck rolled in the grass and split his sides with giggles.

    Elmer Fudd took one look at Bugs and started to weep,

    “I’ve been doing this for so many years and haven’t shot him yet. The hell with my
    contract with Warner Bros., I quit.”

    The last thing I could hear from Fudd as he walked off,

    “Damn that wabbit, damn his two-bit hide.”

    Bugs Buddy hopped over to me and stared me eye to eye. I swear he was at least
    as tall as Harvey,

    “What’s up doc? Are you lost?”

    “I need to kill a wabbit.”

    “Catch me if you can.” and he shoved me into a thicket and hopped away. I could
    feel a small animal under me.

    Chuck ran over holding his nose,

    “Pop Pop?”

    “What do you want?”

    “You fell on Pepe Le Pew, you stink awful.”

    ‘What’s left I thought?’ I gathered myself and looked at the dust on the horizon.
    Twenty seconds later, I was run over by The Road Runner, followed closely by Wile E.
    Coyote. I lay in a shredded heap as Chuck stared at me,

    “Have you had enough fun, Pop Pop?

    We managed to hop through the portal. My other grandkids screamed bloody
    murder and ran out the door. I noticed Chuck didn’t waiver with his hand clamped on his nose.

    “Pop Pop?”

    “What is it now.?”

    “Can we do this again next Saturday?”

    \ I looked into his face and saw myself at his age,

    “You better know it, just the two of us.

    1. Observer Tim

      This is wonderfully Looney, Kerry. Is it autobiographical? 😉

      All kidding aside, I love how you projected the grandfather/grandson bond into the form of a shared adventure in cartoonland. The other grandkids just don’t understand, especially if they’re older. Very nice story! 🙂

      1. Kerry Charlton

        Thanks for the kind wordsTim. You might say this leans somewhat toward autobiograpical. But in the case of my Father. He changed persona with his thirteen grandchildren, to the point he was hard to recognize. Took then ruby hunting in Frankin, North Carolina, taught some how to play golf, build houses. It was remarkable for me to witness. Way to go Dad!

      1. Kerry Charlton

        Thank you for your warm-hearted comments, Susan. I must admit, I did get a little misty-eyed while writing, not only for my younger days but also for all the characters in Looney Tunes. We were good friends together on Saturday mornings.

    2. cosi van tutte

      Hi, Kerry!

      This was such a enjoyable story with a lot of great lines. I especially liked “You’re mean mister, you’re just an old,… just an old …breezer, so there!” and “Damn that wabbit, damn his two-bit hide.” 😀

      1. Kerry Charlton

        Thank you Amy. I could just imagine my bones being run over by the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote. With fourtenn grand children, most of them grown by now, I have a seven year’s old, comversation in the groove by now. Oh, how I wish I had been there. I grew up with these guys.

      1. Kerry Charlton

        Thank you Jay, that’s a wonderul comment from you. I know the characters well, especially the grandfather. I have eleven granddaughters, a lot of women now, running around and stirring the boys up. Four in collage, one going to med school next year. Two married, Four in highschool and the youngest in midle school. The story is based on Jake, my youngest grandson, a sophomore in highschool. I’m in need of a clone to continue going to all these graduations on the horizon .

          1. Kerry Charlton

            Thank you Reatha, I have plenty of ammo. available in grand children. Only the twins are alike, the other twelve have distinct and different personalities. Thanks for the read. This week’s prompt hurdled your’s truly to the middle forties and dumped me there for the week, what fun.

    3. Critique

      This was wonderful Kerry. Saturday morning Looney Tunes (they are timeless) were a favorite with my own children and now my grandchildren. I liked how you incorporated a number of characters from the Looney Tunes 🙂

      1. Kerry Charlton

        Thank you Critique for your wonderful thoughts. Looney Tunes are timeless and may be around for 1000 years. I’m not so sure I’d have a good time reaching back to the eleventh century and get dumped there for a week, but this is far different. I would love to hear from the other writers on this idea. Kerry

      1. Kerry Charlton

        Thank you for your kind words regis, when I’m enjoying myself, I seem to write better. This was a fun prompt and I’m be sorry when it’s over, like a sip of fine wine.

  11. Jay "The Doc" Wilson

    How to Kill a Mocking Wabbit

    This story is in response to Observer Tim’s suggestion to write this story, and perhaps at the same time explain what I meant by human vs. cartoon thinking. 🙂

    I wake up, and realize I must still be a little drunk from the night before. That’s my best explanation, anyway, because I had opened my eyes to a strange new world. I look up at the sky and see the man on the moon staring down at me. This isn’t pareidolia. It’s an actual face staring down with an alarmingly creepy smile. It’s even stranger that I have an inexplicable desire to kill Bugs Bunny.

    I suppose I should be afraid of the moon or the fact that the world around me isn’t the reality I’ve always known. I mean, the night is blue, and everything has a cartoon quality to it. It still looks real enough, but light diffuses the surfaces unlike anything I’d ever seen. Add to that the fact the trees and grass in the meadow seem to dance without wind, and it all seems completely surreal.

    Back to my desire to kill Bugs. It’s a desire I can’t suppress. Imagine an alcoholic surrounded by booze and everyone in the room encourages him to take a drink. That’s how I feel. I’m scared, alone, and in a strange place, and the only thing I have to cling to is this murderous craving. So what do I do? I pick up the double-ought shotgun that magically appears next to me, and set off to hunt a rabbit.

    Unlike your typical reality, I don’t have to search very hard. In this new hybrid cartoon world, I start thinking about Bugs, and suddenly, I hear the earth quaking and deep roots cracking. A continuous mound passes through the field, and stops right in front of me. I know from experience as a kid what that meant. So, I point the gun, and out pops a giant grey rabbit.

    His ears flop comically as he stares into the two barrels. He gives me a judgmental eye, and then reaches into the hole and pulls out a map. He opens it and says, “I knew I should’a taken that left turn at Albuquerque.”

    “Yep,” I say, and pull the trigger.

    The blast tears a hole through the paper, and a cloud of black soot obscures my view of the dead rabbit. When it disperses, there’s no body. Just a rabbit hole and a dead map. That’s when I feel someone tap my shoulder.

    I turn, and Bugs leans on my shoulder as if we’ve been pals for years. He chomps down on a carrot and says, “Nya… what’s up, doc?”

    “I’m hunting wabbit.”

    What the hell did I just say?

    He says, “But it’s duck season…”

    “No, it’s wabbit season.”

    “Duck season.”

    “Wabbit season.”

    “Duck season.”

    “It’s—” I begin to say, but he plants a long distracting kiss on me. For some reason, I worry less about the giant rabbit raping my face, and more about why he smells like the latex mask of a Halloween costume.

    Anyway, when he stopps kissing me, sit there in a daze. I finally come around a short time later, and the damn bunny is gone.

    “Ooooooh!” I say in frustration as I squeeze the shotgun.

    I cross the meadow and enter edge of the forest. I step carefully through that ticket, keeping a keen eye out for that rascally rabbit. After a short time, I come to a tiki bar with a suspicious looking man serving drinks.

    “You see a giant bunny pass by?” I ask, specifically avoiding any words that use an ‘r’ because apparently I can no longer pronounce them correctly.

    “No, sir!” says the man with a terribly dubious southern accent. “I ain’t seen no rabbit come through here. Care for a drink?”

    “Okay,” I say as I ease onto the barstool. Picking my next words carefully to avoid my newfound speech impediment, I continue, “This is kind of an odd place to set up shop.”

    “Nya, it’s a living,” he says, and that’s when I know it’s Bugs. “Thirsty?”

    “Sure, surprise me.”

    He sets two glasses on the counter and turns to grab a bottle of alcohol. He spends an absurd amount of time picking a beverage, but that gives me time to use the poison that magically appears in my pocket. After quickly draining the bottle with the skull and crossbones stamped on it, I toss it behind me just as he turns back around.

    While he pours the drinks, I prop the shotgun against the counter. The drinks have an incredible amount of froth spilling from the top and an oddly animated sparkle.

    He smiles a big buck-toothed grin at me, and I point at the trees behind a tiki torch. “What’s that!”

    Bugs turns, and I wait. He turns around, and narrows his eyes at me. The trees rustle, still no wind. The napkins on the bar begin to fly away. He manages to grab the stack, but not before two squares float away. I turn to grab them, and hear a very faint clink of glass against wood. I smirk for a split second before turning back around.

    I immediately claim my drink, and he grabs his. “Bottoms up!”

    We guzzle the booze, and it tastes amazing. There’s no words in any language I know that could describe the flavor. It was a menagerie that reminded me of an orange and purple sunset over a blue field of grass where pink clouds hung in the sky while a soft melodic tune plays from no discernible source. It. Is. Heaven.

    We stare at each other for a short time, and suddenly, he begins to choke. His eyes bulge large, and he makes a series of jerks. Then, he becomes stiff as a board, props a white lily on his chest, and falls to the ground dead.

    I enjoy my victory, but I know it’s short lived. Growing up, I spent a lot of time watching cartoons. I know how their minds work, and to beat Bugs, I had to play by different rules. I had to use my humanity to kill him, and in doing so, I also had to kill myself. It was a small price to pay, but in the end as the world around me went black, I was happy knowing I also managed to rid myself of that desire to kill a rabbit after all.

    Note: I switched from past to present after the fact, so I hope I got all the tenses shifted correctly… if not, sorry for wasting all your red ink!

    1. Observer Tim

      And very good explanation it is, Doc. I wasn’t sure about the difference between child and adult thinking, but when cast as human vs. cartoon it makes a great deal of sense. Your MC went to a great deal of effort to put an end to Bugs. And in the end he realizes that it is precisely his desire that is being killed, since he has only reasonable certainty about the rabbit.

      This is very deep and thought-provoking. I quite like it. 🙂 🙂

      1. Kerry Charlton

        Let’s see if I got this right. The reason Bugs ended up with the poison was the MC put poison in both drinks. to be sure Bugs drank it. I do understand that Bugs switched the glasses but am wondering why the MC didn’t put the poison in just his own glass, knowng that Bugs would probably switch the glasses. I really enjoy your gift of writing and consider this as a fine examplre

        1. Jay "The Doc" Wilson

          That’s a really great question! Did he really switch them or did he just pretend to switch them? Who knows! 🙂 Bugs had no idea which glass the MC spiked, and had to decide based on the MC’s personality) how he would be poisoned. After years of dealing with purposefully underachieving opponents in the cartoon world, Bugs now suffers from Dunning-Kruger effect, and his superiority complex pretty much got him killed because while he might be clever, he underestimated (underpercieved?) his opponent. As the writer, I don’t even know which glass he shifted (if he even did).

          Ultimately, the only way for the MC to be sure he killed that rabbit was to poison both glasses. When the probability is 50% of getting the poison and you’re leaving your fate up to an opponent you know has a high chance of getting you killed, you do what you gotta do. This is something Bugs could never expect. Thanks for reading, Kerry!

    2. Critique

      Excellent writing to describe being in the ‘hybrid’ cartoon world. This was a fun interesting read – had to wonder if Bugsy was really dead or just pretending – waiting until the MC dies.

  12. snuzcook


    Kew da Wabbit, kew da Wabbit.

    I woke up with the song stuck in my head! Not the majestic full orchestra version of “The Ride of the Valkyries”–no, the Elmer Fudd under-the-breath theme song. Kew da Wabbit, Kew da Wabbit! Funny thing was, it made me snicker. But the snicker that came out of me was unlike any snicker I had ever snickered before. ‘Heh heh heh heh heh.’

    What was this shit? I was seriously channeling a Looney Toon! And not a clever one—no! A short, fat, balding, vindictive schlub with a sense of self so lacking that he had to carry around his shotgun to convince people he had a third dimension.

    Kew da Wabbit, kew da Wabbit… I stumbled out of bed. I had to put on some music, anything to drown out the inane dreamtime song.

    I knew where it was coming from. I had been dreaming about settling scores, about getting even with some elusive dark figure. I kicked out my roommate, Eric, but I still resented him. He was one of those guys who seemed to get away with laying claim to anything and anyone who crossed their path, and were slow to return what they borrowed. He was constantly eating my food from the fridge rather than go shopping for himself. He’d borrow my things, and even borrow things from my family not return them. And that wasn’t all he got his hands on.

    Three days after I kicked him out, his girlfriend—my former girlfriend, Lisa–broke up with him rather than let him move in with her, and he was still looking for a place. At least that seemed like justice.

    My dreams had gone Looney Tunes before. After all, in my profession there were boundaries I refused to cross even in my dream life. As a pediatric oncologist, I could not deal with children and their families and the real fears and challenges they faced every day if I allowed myself to dwell on petty bitterness and personal disappointment. My office icons were the heroes of Disney movies that children idolized, and for the adults the nostalgic images we’d all grown up with that poked fun at the serious side of life—Daffy Duck, Sylvester and Tweetie, Foghorn Leghorn…

    Someone was moving around in the next room. It couldn’t be Eric. He picked up the last of his things over the weekend and handed me his key. I looked around the bedroom for my phone. Damn, I must have left it on the kitchen table.

    I needed a weapon, a golf club, anything. I rummaged in the closet and my hand closed around the twin barrels of my uncle’s shotgun. Eric had borrowed it for a hunting trip, and returned it when he dropped off his key. I’d had mixed feelings about having a gun around at all, even temporarily. Now I cradled the weapon in my arms, and the irony was not lost on me. This was the source of my Elmer Fudd alter-ego surfacing.

    I stood by the door, ready to open it. “Whoever’s out there, you better clear out now. I’ve got a gun!”

    I waited and listened. I didn’t hear anything, certainly not frightened footsteps retreating out the front door. “I’ve already called the police! You better leave!”

    I opened the door. The apartment was quiet. Familiar silhouettes of my furniture against the glow of streetlights outside were reassuring. I tiptoed out of the bedroom, the shotgun at the ready. Kew da Wabbit, kew da Wabbit.

    I walked through dim the apartment and stumbled into a chair at the kitchen table. Suddenly the room was flooded with light. Somebody had opened the refrigerator door. “Hey, what’s up, Doc?”

    The shotgun bucked against my ribs with a deafening roar, as if of its own volition. The power of the recoil sent me crashing backwards into the wall and I slid to the floor. “The Ride of the Valkyries” pounded through my head as everything went black.

    1. Observer Tim

      Hopefully this ends with buckshot in the fridge door where he shot the picture of Bugs put there to remind him to eat his veggies! Stupid roommate; what kind of dumbass returns a loaded shotgun? Duh, the kind that gets kicked out.

      I was surprised to see you didn’t sneak in a reference to “What’s Opera, Doc?”

      Great story, Snuz! 🙂 🙂

    2. Dennis

      I like the direction you took this, although the ending is bit unsettling. Whew! That particular Bugs cartoon is one of my favorites. I till think it is amazing that we grew up with such violent cartoons. And guys like Eric, he may not deserve the shotgun by not much else. Great writing.

    3. snuzcook

      There is a way in this story that the MC is not fully in control of what is happening. He openly acknowledges at the beginning that he is channeling Fudd. The shotgun has its own agenda. Eric is not the Wabbit, but he is acting the part.

      So I invite you to interpret what happens as a bloodless, cartoon encounter acted out by people in the human dimension who found themselves in cross-over roles. Maybe this is what happens when Toons dream–except that such a story would deserve much more elegant treatment than this.

      1. Kerry Charlton

        I had a near riot reading this. I’m on Tim’s side. Even if Fudd did shoot at someone he would have missed. I love the phrase, ‘key da Wabbit,’

    4. Critique

      Wonderful writing Snuzcook.
      Methinks the MC Doc needs a sabbatical from his stressful job.
      Crossing reality with a Looney Tunes character like Elmer Fudd makes for a fun interesting read 🙂

  13. Craig the Editor

    This story will make a little more sense if you have read my story in the preceding prompt. If not, it should still make a reasonable amount of sense.
    And yes, I plead guilty to exceeding the 500 word limit, so you have been warned.

    Rabbit Hunting

    Kevin meekly followed the security robot back to his assigned cell, but internally he was seething with rage of his current predictment. Or at least he was highly miffed. He had come so close to achieving his goal, but that stupid rabbit screwed up his plans.

    He originally believed by adding the rabbit to the spell it would accelerate the growth of the wedding turtle. And it did. But instead of stopping at the size of a large dog, it ended up being the size of a small house which in turn wound up destroying half the village and devouring his bride.

    He hadn’t heard from her, which didn’t surprise him. (She had survived being devoured.) Their’s had been a marriage of politics, not love. His father had seen it as a way to gain favor among the dwarves. But even warrior dwarf princesses have their limits. She was probably off somewhere sharpening her favortie axe. Maybe being in prison wasn’t such a bad idea.

    His cell had all the charm of a glass box, mainly because that’s what it was, a glass box. It was standard procedure for all advanced magic users. By placing him in a glass box it eliminated the chance to carve runes, demonic circles, etc.and escape. Secretly he was flattered that they considered him that dangerous. But the truth was they ran out of regular cells.

    Along one wall a cot protruded directly from the wall. Next to it was steel wash basin and commode. The room was brightly lit much to Kevin’s dismay. Given a choice he preferred a dark and gloomy room.

    On Kevin’s planet one could either become a scientist or a magic user, but not both. It had something to do with union rules. Kevin decided to go with magic because it seemed much simpler. With science there were all those nitpicking laws of physics, not to mention all the mathematics. No, magic was much simpler. Memorize a few key phrases and you were on your way to becoming a force to be reckoned with. Unless you got the wrong rabbit. Maybe that was the problem.

    Despite the advancement of science and the discovery of magic time passed and the prison computer dimmed off the lights to indicate the ending of the day. Kevin laid down on the cot which set a new standard for being uncomfortable. But that didn’t deter Kevin who had the innate ability to fall asleep pretty much anywhere, any time. So he quickly drifted off hoping to catch that damned rabbit.

    Like many dreams it began with the sensation of falling down a long, dark tunnel. Past dirt, rocks and roots he fell and it eventually ended with a soft thud. His fall had been broken by a giant red and white mushroom. He was in a deep and dark forest.

    THe next thing he noticed was that his prison garb had been replaced with a brown hunting jacket and a ridiculous matching hat with ear flaps and baggy brown trousers. In one hand he clutched some sort of weapon. It consisted of two metal tubes that were closed at one end and open at the other. There were two small levers on the underside of it. He was unsure of their purpose. So naturally he felt compelled to pull them. The resulting explosion knocked him on his rear and spun his hat around so one ear flap covered his face.

    “Thay! Whath the big idea, buddy? Ith not duck hunting treason!” fumed a an angry black duck.

    “Oh, I beg your pawdon! I was hunting wabbits. I’m hunting a pawticulawly waskally wabbit, so be verwee, verwee quiet. He weally bugs me!” declared Kevin. Along with the odd clothes it seemed he had developed a severe speech impediment. On the plus side he had developed the ability to converse with water fowl. The fact that the duck was actually taller than him went unnoticed by both parties.

    The duck, a decidely excitable sort, quickly pointed him to a nearby sign which stated “Rabbit Hole” and pointed downwards. Slightly above it was a hastily scribbled sign which stated, “Rabbit Hunting Begins Today”. The duck, showing a modicrim of common sense left Kevin on his own.

    Up until this moment Kevin had never been hunting but he was fairly sure that rabbits would not have large signs pointing to their homes. On the other hand nothing in this place seemed to be quite right.

    Just then a gray and white rabbit popped out of the hole, chomping on a arge carrot. “What’s uo, Doc?” it inquired.

    Scarcely believing his luck Kevin blurted out, “It’s wabbit hunting season and your the main couwarse! Heh! Heh! Heh!”

    Meanwhie the rabbit had noticed the sign announcing the arrival of rabbit hunting season. His eyes bugged out of his head. He dove down into his hole and quickly returned to do some editing to the sign.

    “Are you sure, Doc? You might want to check out that sign again.”

    Feeling strangely compelled, Kevin looked at the sign. The word, ‘Rabbit” had been crossed out and above it was the word, “Duck” had been written.

    “Oh, sorrwee, my mistake. I ‘ll be on my way.” Kevin turned and took about two steps and stopped short. It suddenly dawned on him that he wanted to be hunting rabbits, regardless of the season.

    “But I had my heart on rabbit!” he lamented.

    “Well, then thir, your in luck!” enthused the duck who had returned. He pointed to a much larger sign proclaiming it was rabbit hunting season. Then an even larger one in neon appeared declaring the arrival of duck hunting season.

    And so it went, back and forth with no end in sight. One moment it was duck season, the next it was rabbit. Poor Kevin was totally befuddled.

    That’s All Folks!

  14. HotepWriter

    The Champion

    The driver is taking me to my mother…..he says. Even though she is dead. He thinks I’m too stupid to know.
    I watched them bury her………..I saw them cry. I heard them chant her name. This same driver took my brother away, long ago. No one asked any questions…not even my mother.
    We drive for hours ……….park near a large a building. The scent of death is overwhelming. My hair stands on end as the driver grins.
    Men rush the car………….
    Hands reach in….grab me……. Latex gloves……muffle my screams. Sharp piercing sensation in my neck…..warm fluid enters my veins.
    The room spins…………I hear cries. I try to stand………………..It has to me morning but the light is so brilliant.
    The deck grating below my feet shocks my body………..time to run.
    Lights suspened above illuminate a labytinth of paths…..
    I run….
    I can hear the shrills of another infront of me………….they made a wrong turn……….coming face to face with the dead end. The walls of the maze is painted in blood.
    Laughs from above frighten me, they yearn for me to make a mistake.
    I know where the dead zone is … I know how to get there….
    I make five turns, Left………….left………..left……….left……right……………..
    The door closes behind me….
    I am handed a plate of fruit….I live another day.
    For days the torment continues…………
    I make five turns, Left………..left………….left……..left ……right…………….
    How long has it been………..How long must I do this……can I escape?
    Once again I am given fruit……..I feel the needle pierce my throat. This time I welcome it……….bring me to my mother.
    My body feels heavy……..stiff.
    SLowly I stand…….. I am wearing a leather garmet………..armor.
    Razor sharp blades are sewn into the thick leather around my hands and feet……..
    a long cilindrical spike extends from my head piece……….
    the buzzer sounds…..electrical shock races through my body. I am ready……………..
    voices from above applaude as I make the first turn…………….
    “Ladies and gentlemen, The two finalist today are highly talented young fighters”
    “Today I proudly present………… ‘Rags’ ”
    “He is new to this, but his mother was the Champion for six years!”
    “And for our long standing arena champion, I present you”
    “Bugs! he has almost broken his mothers kill record!
    Let the battle begin!”
    Left………The wall is no longer closed…. Bugs stands ready….

    No more cheers………..no more fruit…….
    He welcomes my spike, I welcome his deadly kicks….
    I see her…………….he sees her…………..
    we call to her………..

    ……we are coming…….

    1. Observer Tim

      This is a surreal take, Hotep. Even after reading it through twice I’m only sort of sure what’s going on. The maze reference brings to mind rats, but the perspective is more like humans being treated like rats. Or it could be rabbits, which can be vicious fighters. All in all it is both confusing and fascinating; an excellent combination! 🙂

  15. Jay "The Doc" Wilson

    We got any IP law guys on here? There’s a lot of contention surrounding fiction derived from original copyrighted works, so I’m wondering how many of these stories fall under transformative work for fair use or fall into the grey area of the copyright law? Just curious. As a writer, I’m always wary of using other people’s original work in my own original work… that’s partly the reason my story didn’t contain anything but a reference to Elmer and Bugs… hmm, or rather, a hunter and a “bunny” in it. I did some research, and Nolo had some pretty good info.


      1. Jay "The Doc" Wilson

        Well, I don’t think it’s illegal to mention it in the story depending on how you use it… but it’s a grey area for sure to use the copyrighted work as the central piece to the story. For instance, your character can walk into a bar and see a thin, young man that looked no older than a young harry Potter, and I’m guess that’s fine. However, if your main character IS Harry Potter, well, that’s where things get (puts on sunglasses) hairy. YYYyeeeeaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

        *ahem* Pardon my CSI moment.

        1. Katia.Snow

          You are pardoned! I understand, though. I read a couple of books that mention other books, if that makes sense. But I don’t think anyone would actually think of putting Harry Potter in the Looney Tunes.

          1. Jay "The Doc" Wilson

            Who, knows… there are some pretty hardcore fans out there that’ll do whatever they want with their story. One of the most famous examples is the EL James’s Twilight fan fiction 50 Shades series. People do weird things. lol

    1. Observer Tim

      Sorry, I’m not an IP guy, so take this with a grain of salt.

      The issue of copyrights and trademarks is kind of complicated (and the Atlantic Ocean is a bit damp). However, the big point is that it is an issue of civil law more than criminal. That means the police aren’t going to hunt you down for this sort of thing, the injured party have to do that job. That costs them money, so most will strike a balance regarding what is worth the effort. One of the most stringent and famous litigators about use of their characters is Disney.

      What we are doing here is in the nature of fanfiction, where the law gets so muddy everything needs to be resolved on a case-by-case basis and most people and companies simply don’t bother. We are obviously not doing this for commercial purposes, but if we were the process would have to begin with contacting the copyright/trademark holder and asking for permission.

      Also, if something went viral it would most definitely come to the attention of the IP holder and prompt a reaction based on the personality of the organization.

    2. regisundertow

      I’m under the impression all stories here fall under the fair practice umbrella, given the nature of these prompts have a distinct educational angle. We’re not setting out to write the next best-seller here, we’re flexing our creative muscles. Some ideas might be used for our own material, but the intention (crucial word) is to self-educate by helping each other as artists.

      I’m sure a lawyer with an agenda might be able to argue the opposite. I’m also sure no lawyer will bother.

    3. Jay "The Doc" Wilson

      That’s a really good point, Regis!

      However, I wonder what the angle actually is in regard to education. The prompt might be good practice, but is practice a good enough (and reasonable enough) example of education that it can be considered Fair Use?

      1. regisundertow

        I’d say so, based on similar examples from music – note sheets and how-to-play youtube videos specifically, or reinterpretations of the songs of others without the intention to profit from them.

        This is murky territory at best and I’m obviously biased, but as long as a) money is not made, b) it’s established and declared that we as writers do not hold the copyright to the characters mentioned, and c) it’s declared that there is no copyright infringement intended (again that vague but all-important word) due to our explicit purpose to use copyright-material for educational/practice purposes…(deep breath) there isn’t much legal ground to object on. Or, we can call every story here a parody and be done with it, as parody is untouchable by law anyway. Not my point, but it shows that, unless you intentionally set out to infringe copyright in order to make a buck based on someone else’s specific execution of an idea (ideas themselves are not subject to copyright), there isn’t a reason for the copyright holder to bother you.

        Not a lawyer, so my opinion is just that, but I don’t think I’m wrong.

  16. ShamelessHack

    Tweety Bird seemed right at home in the ultra-modern conference room with the big windows. She wore a tiny white lab coat, and her big eyes shone from beneath a perfectly coiffed, red, page-boy wig
    Standing to her left was a rugged, handsome figure. He seemed perturbed.

    “You did what?” Daffy asked, a bandolier of bullets strapped across his safari shirt. He stared down at Tweety from under his Indiana Jones hat.

    “I taught you heard me,” said the canary impatiently. “We cweated the world’s first geneticawy-modified hybwid wabbit.”

    The duck paced back and forth behind the floor-to-ceiling bullet-proof glass. He put his wings on his hips. “Thufferin’ Thuccotash. Probably not a good idea.”

    Outside the glass, the thick jungle foliage shook. Daffy hiked up his cargo pants and said to the bird, “I’m going to need some help thweetheart. Get me my motorthycle, Elmer Fudd, and my four vicious and barely-domethicated Tasmanian devils: Alpha, Purple, Rihanna and Irving.”

    Tweety looked at Daffy from under the red wig and said, “If the wabbit comes for me, will you save me, Daffy?”

    The brave duck looked back over his shoulder as he left the secure room. “Thertainly.”

    Out on the plains of WarnerWorld, the escaped hybrid monster, Indomitus Rabbitus, had been systematically devouring all the giant prehistoric carrots on the island. Elmer and Daffy were rolling around inside their fragile plastic ball when the monster struck. Elmer’s shotgun accidently blew a ragged hole in the clear bubble and they took off to escape the giant rabbit’s wrath.

    Meanwhile, back at the park, a coyote was suspended thirty feet above a giant arena containing desert sand and cactus. He looked down at the sound of a loud “beep-beep”. A river of sweat ran down his body and he saw a moving trail of dust approaching beneath him. He gulped audibly. A moment later an enormous Beepasaurus Supersonicus zoomed up into the air and swallowed him whole.

    The crowd went wild as it was pelted with coyote fur and feathers.

    While Elmer and Daffy worked their way through the jungle, the fabulously wealthy owner of the Park, Porky Koothrapiggi, crashed his heliporker into a glass dome, which allowed an entire flock of vicious Leghornadons to ravage the screaming tourists.

    Thinking he’d cornered the giant rabbit in the forest, Daffy was dismayed when his four Tasmanian devils communicated with the monster bunny and then zoomed away en masse for Los Angeles, where they were promised better-paying jobs at Disney.

    Finally, Indomitus Rabbitus (Big Ol’ Bugs, to his friends) chewed up most of Speilberg’s expensive sets, and viciously wounded the Park’s last hope, the fearsome monster, Sylvestesaurus Rex.

    The 60-foot tall rabbit stood before Daffy and Tweety and roared, “HERE’S what’s up Doc!” He bent over to sweep them up and devour them whole, but suddenly paused when he heard an odd, approaching sound.

    He turned to look behind him, but it was too late. He heard the sound again:


    1. Early Blogger

      Excellent! LOL “Daffy hiked up his cargo pants…” I’m still giggling. And let’s not forget the image of tweety in her perfectly coiffed page-boy wig.

    2. cosi van tutte

      Hi, Hack!

      Just so you know, I loved this part -> “Daffy was dismayed when his four Tasmanian devils communicated with the monster bunny and then zoomed away en masse for Los Angeles, where they were promised better paying jobs at Disney.” 😀

    3. Observer Tim

      This is a lovely mash-up, Hack. I love the whole ‘Jurassic Toon’ thing. This is both surreal and silly in equal measure. Excellent job! 🙂

      One thing caught me – Daffy used Sylvester’s tag line near the beginning (Thufferin’ Thuccotash). Not major, but a cartoon nerd like me would catch it…

        1. Kerry Charlton

          What a hoot! You managed to use almost all the Warner Bros. farm. My favorite part is Tweety bird and her outfit. Me thinks the Beep Beep! might be a covy of 18 wheelers being led by the Roadrunner.

  17. Early Blogger

    Alice in Looney Land

    Alice woke to find herself on the outskirts of the dense forest for the second time this week
    “Oh man! Not again!” This was becoming a habit she didn’t care for. Every time she fell asleep, she ended up in this hole. Why didn’t this hole ever lead to places like Paris, or Rome…She’d even settle for a deserted beach somewhere. Oh…maybe Bora Bora.

    She sat up and looked in the briefcase for her instruction.

    “Kill Bugs Bunny.”

    This guy again. Won’t they ever give up? How many times have they sent someone to do their dirty work? Too many, she wagered. She sighed and grabbed the bag containing their weapon of choice this week. Inside were a few bunches of carrots, latex gloves, a cage, and white powder Alice assumed was some kind of poison.

    “Let’s see…carrots. Check. Latex gloves, check. Cage…where the hay is the cage?” Alice spun around and located the camouflaged steel cage sitting under the willow tree. On top of the cage sat the hookah smoking caterpillar.

    “Um…excuse me. That’s not a mushroom you know.” The hookah turned to find Alice standing there placing the latex gloves on.

    “Ebbascuzzzzameee?” he puffed from his little magic pipe and blew the orange smoke in Alice’s direction.

    Alice continued with her inventory. Reading from the instructions…


    “Good to know.”

    Lay carrots under cage and wait.

    “Seriously? They didn’t happen to drop me here with a good book.” She thought. “This could take a while.”

    Alice walked over to the cage with the supplies and shewed the crazy caterpillar away.

    “OK Hookah. Looks like you’re going to have to find another place to squat.”

    The Hookah crept off in a sulk as Alice set the cage up and scaled the willow to a wooden platform. No doubt from some prior attempt. Yep! E.F caved into the smooth surface of the maple. Awesome! I’m sitting in a seat that Elmer Fudd sat in.

    Within moments, Alice watched as the White Rabbit skipped by…”I’m late, I’m late…Off with my head!” without so much as looking at the large bunch of carrots. “Hmmph! I guess he can’t be tempted.” Alice mumbled.

    Soon afterward, Peter Rabbit hopped by in a flash with Mr. McGregor not far behind. ”Damn, these rabbits have a propensity for finding trouble!”

    Alice sat there as next Brer Rabbit, Trix, and Roger Rabbit swaggered by; each falling into the other in a drunken stupor. Cheshire cat must have left the catnip out again.

    The view from the willow allowed Alice to scan the surrounding fields. She noticed Rabbit Rabbit pulling the honey jar from Pooh’s head again. “Mmmm…silly bear should really lay off the honey for a while and get some exercise…”Up, down, touch the ground…” She couldn’t help but sing.

    Alice looked directly below her now. At the base of the willow she saw remnants of half-eaten carrots.

    “What the? How did those get there?”

    “Ehhhhh…What’s up Doc?”

    Turning in the seat in the willow, Alice came face to face with the target. Pressed against her head was the unmistakable rifle belonging to the man she’d been sent out to replace.

    “Any last words?” bugs drooled.

    Alice shook her head slowly…

    “Ok Then!”


    “Dang, I’m a wascally wabbit! Hee he he he he.”

    1. Observer Tim

      Very nice, Early. I noticed that she saw quite a few rabbits before bugs got her. I can see why Bugs is being hunted. Hopefully she’s in a more cartoony place and will just wake up with a soot-blackened head, or maybe a self-sealing hole (Terminator 2 style). Great job! 🙂

  18. jhowe

    Two of the tie bars of my Smith Corona, the F and the D, stuck together again leaving an inky blob at the bottom of the page. Damn, a whole page of work wasted. I made a mental note to get the machine cleaned and serviced right away. Someday, I hoped, someday someone would come up with a better way.

    Another road kill story, great. You’d think the damn things would know better by now, but a death is a death and death sells newspapers according to my editor. And speaking of my editor, as we were, kind of, he was coming my way. “Jenkins!” he shouted.

    “Yes sir, right away sir.”

    “Calm down Jenkins, I have a hot one for you.”

    “A hot one sir?”

    “Yes Jenkins. I want you to go to the forest right away. An outsider is there trying to hunt and kill Bugs Bunny.”

    “But sir, he gets hunted all the time.”

    “This is different Jenkins. This outsider has some kind of weapon that actually works.”

    I stood there silent. A weapon that actually works? This was big, really big. “I’m on it sir.”

    “Don’t disappoint me Jenkins,” I heard as I headed out the door.

    With pad in hand I approached a dejected looking Elmer Fudd sitting on a stump. “Can I ask you a few questions Mr. Fudd?”

    “Oh the terror, the terror.” By some twist of logic, he talked normal when he wasn’t on the set.

    “What’s wrong Mr. Fudd?”

    “It’s that darndable Writer’s Digest group.” He wrung his tweed hat between his fingers. “They have people from the outside here.”

    “Outsiders, here?”

    “I’m afraid so.”

    “What are they doing here?” I said.

    “It’s terrible, just terrible. There are some sick mother of pearl writers in that group let me tell you.”

    “How bad is it?”

    “Sewn on bunny ears, crucifixions on prison walls, seductive female bunnies, solicitous drug use, over exaggerated Bugs Bunny references and some character named Cherokee Pete. And that’s just the beginning.”

    My hand flies over the pages of my notebook. “Did you see all this?”

    “No, it can’t be seen for some reason.”

    “Then how do you know it’s real?”

    “I can just tell. These outsiders seem to from the future or something and they’re very clever.”

    “Mr. Fudd, are you sure?”

    “As sure as the nose on your… wait where’s your nose?”

    I search my face. Damn it, not again. “Mr. Hanna sir? Mr. Barbera sir?”

    1. cosi van tutte

      I really enjoyed this story, j. I loved the phrase “sick mother of pearl”. And this whole part cracked me up -> “How bad is it?”

      “Sewn on bunny ears, crucifixions on prison walls, seductive female bunnies, solicitous drug use, over exaggerated Bugs references and some character named Cherokee Pete. And that’s just the beginning.”


    2. Observer Tim

      Poor Elmer. How do you describe an invasion from another dimension (most likely the Third Dimension, though possibly also the Twilight Zone). I’m not sure why he’s worried about the sexy bunny, considering how many times he’s fallen for it… The last exchange totally cracked me up. Brilliant, JHowe; you are definetly the master of the self-referential prompt. 🙂

  19. Lord_Aura

    “The Problem Solver”

    “It won’t hit you for another few hours.” said the Problem Solver, as he took a long drag from his cigarette. “I’m going to be fine, right?” I nervously ask. “This will help you find the answers you seek. I’m not going to lie to you my friend. The come down is quite rough.” the Problem Solver says, as he exhales a storm cloud of smoke. “How rough are we talking here?” I say, pacing back and forth in the abandoned grocery store parking lot. The Problem Solver flicks his cigarette butt in the air like a mini flare signal. From his overcoat pocket, he pulls out a blank piece of paper and a black sharpie. “Turn around my friend.” he orders, as he uses my flabby back to write his note. “Afterward you’ll want to throw yourself off a building.” he says, without any emotion or expression. “Do not lose this paper. It will serve as a reminder. Let it be your guide back to reality.” the Problem Solver explains.

    The palms of my hands are sweating profusely. Any passerby can clearly see that we are engaging in something illegal. Neither one of us put much thought into our meeting place. We are foolish prey sitting in the open waiting to be eaten. “One last thing.” says the Problem Solver, as he starts his BMW coupe. “If you can’t handle it, call 911. Do not try to contact me. I do not exist” he says firmly. “I understand.” I say anxiously wanting to get to a safe place as quickly as possible. “The white rabbit represents good luck.” he says as he drives off into the cold night.

    “Eh, what up, doc?” says Bugs Bunny, who’s gigantic head his staring down at me. “What the hell!” I scream jumping out of bed. In my apartment bedroom, stands a six foot seven cartoon bunny rabbit. His long pointy ears almost reach the ceiling. “This is not happening!” I yell, collapsing to the floor filled with fear. “You’re right, this isn’t happening.” says Bugs, as he makes his way to the bedroom door. “I knew I should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque!” he says, shaking his gigantic head. The objects in my bedroom appear cartoonish. Everything is vibrating with such vivid color and radiance. The world around me seems to be moving back and forth. Back and forth like a slow persistent wave.

    “Wait a minute Bugs!” I say standing back up. As I rose to my feet, I was smashed by intense feelings of happiness and joy. My skin tingled with such pleasure that I had to take a seat on the foot of the bed. “The Problem Solver sent you?” I enquire, as my eyes begin rolling to the back of my head. The feelings of complete bliss and euphoria have rendered me a silly. The apartment now looks like a fully animated Looney Tunes cartoon. I’m quickly reminded of the 1988 film “Who Framed Roger Rabbit”, which was definitely a childhood favorite.

    Everything that I’m used to has taken on a new colorful identity. “You’re right. He did send me, you stinker.” says Bugs, now stepping into my living room. “Get back here Bugs!” I scream, overcome with a desire to give the massive cartoon rabbit a big hug. “I’m not the hugging type!” Bugs screams back at me. I begin to chase Bugs around the dingy apartment, but he is too quick and elusive. I’m quickly out of breath, but the incredible sensations rushing through my body give me the energy to keep chasing.

    I remember my youth. I remember watching Bugs Bunny on Looney Tunes. I remember that he never lost. I remember that he can’t be caught or outsmarted. “You’ve won Bugs.” I say panting for air on the sofa. The bunny takes a seat on the sofa beside me. “You have so many people in your life who genuinely love you.” Bugs calmly says to me. Although he is a cartoon rabbit, I know this moment has turned serious. My problems were about to be solved. “Nobody is out to get you. Nobody is plotting to betray you.” the rabbit continues on his speech. “You need to stop hating yourself. You need to let those feelings go.” says Bugs, as he stands up from the sofa. As Bugs Bunny’s words repeat in my head, I begin to feel deep sorrow. The sorrow that comes from realizing your perspective on life has been wrong up to this crucial point. “Bugs, I wish to always be this happy” I whisper.

    Bugs Bunny is gone. The apartment is transforming back to its uninteresting form. I’m alone again. Weeping on the cold bathroom tile, I can feel nothing but loneliness and despair. Just as the Problem Solver warned, the come down has drained me of all positive thought. I grab the Problem Solver’s note he had written me. The message simply says “You are on drugs. This sadness will come to pass. Just hang in there my friend.”

    1. Observer Tim

      This is very interesting, Lord Aura. You did a good job describing the hallucination, and I like that you were honest about telling the reader that it would be a hallucination up front. It’s a moving story about dealing with emotional trauma (with chemical assistance). Very good! 🙂

      In the last line, you probably mean ‘This sadness will pass.’ The extra words change the meaning.

    2. regisundertow

      Definitely my favorite entry for this prompt. It answers a crucial question; why Bugs? Why not any of the myriad other classics? Kudos on the emphasis to the personal story, keeping it small scale and allowing us to empathize.

  20. HalcyonTale

    Year 4032, 6th May.
    By the time I was born the world was already on fire. The war was still going on. And as I was born in this era I was forced to become a soldier. All this could have been avoided if that stupid experiment hadn’t taken place 500 years ago. Everyone knew that the experiment was going to fail but what nobody knew was that how that failed experiment would affect our world. When the experiment really did fail something unexplainable happened. Two different worlds had collided. A world which we never knew about. The Animated world.
    When the collision happened these two world ended up into forming one separate world. A world where animated characters (which we have only seen in televisions) and humans along with other animal species co-existed. At first it was not a big deal (after the discovery of Earth 9.0, in Year 3058 where identical humans such as us existed nothing was a big deal for us) but later some fraction of human society started abusing these animated beings.
    This is when we came across what could be described as the starting point for the war. In an incident one of the animated character had ended up hurting one of the human with his animated rocket launcher. Although the man was not dead, the news of this incident spread like wildfire. It was later found out that these animated characters had two specialties first was immortality(they could not be killed with any weapon known to man ) and second was creating anything out of thin air, this power was later termed as ‘Anysteria’.
    Now the humans scared started avoiding these animated beings. Slowly and slowly this emotion turned into hatred and this led to another hostile incident. In the year 3994, something happened, something which shook the entire foundation of Human-Animation relationship, a man named Jack Tharipper killed an animated being called Tweety.
    This incident led to two things, first and foremost the creation of the weapon by humans which could erase the existence of any animated being (the technology was used from that of Jack’s) and ironically it was given the name ‘Eraser’ and second was coming into power of King Bugs Bunny, the leader of the Looney Tunes clan, now the leader of the Animateds.
    These, followed by other series of events finally led to the Great War.
    Now coming to the present, I and other nine soldiers were called to the headquarters in Venice. We all were given one simple task, to kill Bugs Bunny. We had received a news from our spies that the king will be meeting some of his associates in the Dexter’s Laboratory headed by the great scientist Dee Dee.
    Our mission started very smoothly with us slowly and without any noise taking out their agents one after another. Then it came. We were surrounded by forty to fifty of their agents, it was a trap. Taz (our spy) has deceived us. But still they had underestimated us, very skillfully we fought them and killed every last one of them, but at a great loss, eight of our soldiers were dead. I slowly signaled Satan (codename given to the only other alive soldier) to check the basement. Where I slowly went to the main hall.
    And there he was our target, Bugs Bunny.
    He looked at me and said, “Eh, what’s up doc?

    1. Lord_Aura


      Very creative with a large scope/backstory. While giving a detailed backstory as you’ve done, can I recommend some action or dialogue between characters mixed in during the opening of the story?

      1. HalcyonTale

        @Lord_Aura thank you. Well what you recommended was also something which some of my friends said.. so ya i think i should do that..and they are even asking me to complete the story…should i do that .. do you guys think that this will work…. thanx again for your replies 🙂

    2. Observer Tim

      This is very clever and inventive, Halcyon. I love the setting you’ve created and the reasoning behind the war. My only regret is that you stopped just when the action was about to start. Good job! 🙂

      Now a bit of grammar, since I promised last week. These three phrases are equivalent in English:
      • “one of the humans”
      • “one human”
      • “a human”
      The first one uses the plural ‘humans’ because ‘one of the’ means you’re singling out a member of the group. The second one is normally only used as the subject of a sentence (One human got really upset). The third one can be used anywhere you refer to someone whose identity doesn’t really matter (The dog bit a human). If it does matter who the person is, it is better to use their name instead unless you have a reason not to.

  21. ShamelessHack

    I open one bloodshot eye.

    My head feels like a boulder, my mouth—like the bottom of a birdcage. I have zero memory of what I was doing last night before I passed out on the grass, but as usual, it involved weed, Wild Turkey, and maybe LSD.

    I look over to my left. The wife is snoring away, and I’m tempted to go back to sleep myself, but I have work to do. Today’s payback day.

    A payback day that’s been long, long overdue, Rabbit.

    I make sure my .45 caliber Glock has a full clip, ram it into the waistband of my red shorts with the two big polka dots on the front, slip on a pair of fat, white, mitten-gloves, and head out across the grassy hill.

    I pass by a henhouse and quickly backpedal as a salvo of eggs bombards me. That Foghorn Leghorn jackass has orchestrated a concerted attack against me by his hens. I fire off a couple of rounds, but it only serves to scramble his troops. I slink away with egg on my face.

    I follow a faint trail of carrot shavings down the country lane. I approach a large boulder blocking my way. There are few feathers on top of it. Sticking out from under the rock are the lower parts of a coyote’s legs. I shrug and continue on.

    Suddenly I stop. On the crest of the next hill is that bastard bunny. He’s leaning against a tree munching on one of his goddam carrots. I take up a shooting stance, legs apart, Glock held steady in two hands. My red shorts are giving me a wedgie, but I ignore it.

    I’m about to squeeze off the coup de grace, when some rabid Tazmanian vermin zooms up from behind and bites a chunk out of my ass. I scream, drop the gun and hit the dirt, gritting my teeth in agony. When I finally lift my head, I’m staring down two round barrels of a shotgun.

    “Get up vewy swowy,” the pasty-faced hunter lisps.

    ‘Swowy’? Who says those kinds of things? Damn it, who actually LIKES any of these bozos?

    The redneck continues. “That wabbit is mine. And you’re twespassing.”

    A black duck walks up behind the ridiculous hunter, looks at me and says, “Excuthe me, thtranger. Did you know that’s a rubber shotgun he’th holding on you?”

    I look at the hunter, jam two fingers into the gun’s barrel, and the moron fires. The shotgun expands like a bubble and explodes, blackening his flabby face. The imbecile grabs the duck by the neck, who starts wailing something about succotash. While the hunter and the duck are enveloped in a whirlwind of punches and throat-grabs, I slink off in search of my real target.

    “Yoo, hoo, handsome!”

    I stop and turn. Standing behind me is a hot little number with big, batting eyes and even bigger eye-makeup and fat red lipstick. She’s wearing a skin-tight, red-and-white checked pinafore, and its deep cleavage shows off her buxom grey-and-white furry body.

    A fluffy white tail sticks out the back of the outfit. She twitches it seductively and I’m totally turned on.

    “Wanna get high?” I ask as suavely as I can.

    She puckers her giant lips and bats her long lashes. “Is the rest of you as big as those ears?” she purrs.

    I reach for the bong I had shoved into one of my rounded yellow shoes before I left the house, but she says, “I brought my own.” A second later she shoves a foot-long joint that looks like the Hindenburg into my mouth.

    She lights the end, plants a kiss on my black nose, and quickly disappears down the road leaving a white vapor trail.

    I look down my nose at the pot cigar with crossed eyes, and the stupid thing explodes.

    I regain consciousness to find I’m tied to a set of railroad tracks. An advancing locomotive is getting closer.

    Bugs Bunny stands over me, no longer dressed as a femme fatale. He’s wearing a three-piece Brooks Brothers suit and a pair of Ferragamo wingtips. He bends over me and says, “End of the line, Mickey Mouse. What made you think you were smarter than me?”

    Crap. It looks like my efforts were in vain. I struggle against the ropes, stare up at the rabbit, and say, “Who are you really?”

    Bugs Bunny pulls his head off by the ears. In a moment, a kindly-looking Asian man with salt-and-pepper hair is gazing down at me.

    I gasp. “Kevin Tsujihara, CEO of Warner Brothers. You’re Bugs Bunny?”

    Kevin reaches down and pulls off my fake head. I push my real head out of the hole it left between my shoulders.

    “You’re really desperate, aren’t you?” Kevin says, recognizing me immediately. “Don’t you know that this is my turf? You can’t control the whole world, you know.”

    “I’m Walt Disney!” I shout. “And YES! I can control the whole world!” The train’s getting closer. “Only you and that f*cking bunny were standing in the path of Total Disney World Domination!”

    Tsujihara straightens his tie and looks at me with pity. He waits, saying nothing.

    “Well, untie me, damn it!” I finally yell at him, over the sound of the approaching train.

    He looks towards the hurtling locomotive one more time, takes three steps back from the tracks, and says the last thing I want to hear:

    “Th-th-th-that’s all, Folks!”

    1. jhowe

      That was great Hack. Do you mind if I call you Hack? Lots of action and the battle between Disney and Looney Tunes was a great idea. A really fun read for me this morning.

    2. ReathaThomasOakley

      So very much to enjoy here. Wonderfully imagined storyline, plus countless amazing ‘toon references. Favorite words, faint trail of carrot shavings.

    3. regisundertow

      “Scrambled his troops”, that was one sick pun. Very meta story, it makes me wonder what other cartoon universes are aware of each other. I didn’t think much of this prompt, but stories like yours are making me reconsider.

    4. Reaper

      This was well written and a lot of fun to read. I have an amazing love of uncle Walt so the voice read more Asner like to me but the story was well done in spite of that knee jerk reaction. The fact that you caused one actually says some wonderful things about your writing ability.

  22. Observer Tim


    Bluebirds circle around me twittering; I shake my head a few times and they fly away. Where am I?

    For that matter, what am I? I look down and see tan fur, a white tummy and brown paws. I have a fox tail like the one on my costume, only this one’s part of me. I’m a fox; I can only imagine what my face looks like. And I’m a line drawing: a cartoon. Can this get any weirder?

    A heavyset cartoon woman with green skin and a wart on her nose appears in a puff of smoke. She’s wearing a blue dress and a black pointy hat. It’s Miss Tyree; I’d laugh if she wasn’t so dangerous.

    “Hello, Dearie.”

    “What’s going on?”

    “You’re in a trap, Vixen. To escape you have to get the bunny. You know which one.”

    She leaps in the air, kicks her heels together, and zips away with a cackle and a cloud of hairpins.

    I sigh. Get the bunny: this is not going to be easy.

    When I spot him he’s skipping through the woods with a basket of carrots. He stops on seeing me.
    “What’s up, Fox?”

    “Sorry about this, Bugs, but I have to catch you.”

    I grab him but end up with a carrot. The fuse is lit.

    “What the..?”


    My fur is singed black; I give chase anyway.

    He jumps into a hole and I follow. It’s dark but big enough to run in. Suddenly I see oncoming lights. Headlights.


    As I lie face-down on the pavement, a line-painter cart runs over me.

    I stagger out of the tunnel into Paris. Bloody cartoon geography! I wonder where Bugs has…


    I’m wrapped in furry arms and kisses.

    “Ello, ma petite chere. Where ‘ave I been all your life? Mw-w-mw-mw…”

    Huh? Wait, I have black fur and a white stripe down my back. Of course he’s here. I wriggle out of Pepe’s extremely tight grip and bolt. He comes hopping after me on all fours. This is going to be a long day.

    Half an hour later I’ve been shot, blown up, had anvils dropped on my head, and been distracted by nearly the entire WB cartoon universe. Bugs is looking at me from a safe distance.

    “Had enough, kid?”

    This is not working. I need a way out of this: a cartoon way. I think back to all my wasted hours as a child… did anyone ever catch Bugs?


    I pull off my head and let my new long ears uncurl. My skin peels away like a leotard, leaving a soft furry bunny body underneath. A very female bunny body.

    Claxons blare and Bugs’s heart jumps out of his chest. His eyes go big and his jaw drops. In a second he’s beside me, slicking his ears back.

    “So, gorgeous, are you busy after the show?”

    I lean in as he puts an arm around my waist. There’s more than one way to catch a wabbit.

        1. Dennis

          Didn’t he get defeated in some way in their version of the tortoise and the hare story. And the tortoise/turtle with my favorite voice to imitate.

          1. Observer Tim

            The tortoise beat him twice – once in an old-style (Tex Avery) cartoon and once in a more modern form. I don’t precisely remember the details, but both times it was by trickery.

    1. Jay "The Doc" Wilson

      Nice job, OT. Your story inspired me to want to write another story, one in which the only way to catch a cartoon is to think like an adult human. Cartoons, although unlimited by ability and physics, have a limited scope because they are (generally) written for children. I figure all that’s needed to get at a sly toon is to think in a way that a children’s cartoon character isn’t programmed to think. I feel like, however, you mostly did that in this story by going tranny (I guess that’s both transgender and transspecies). Whatever, lol

      Nice story, OT. I enjoyed it.

      1. Observer Tim

        I have to differ with you on one point here, Doc, though only in nuance. A cartoon character’s thought process is not totally childlike, only their worldview. To a cartoon character it is not unusual to break the laws of physics, especially in a good cause. It was best expressed in the Roger Rabbit movie, by an exchange between Eddie and Roger.

        EDDIE: You mean you could’ve taken your hand out of that cuff at any time?
        ROGER: No, not at any time, only when it was funny.

        But that said, I’d encourage you to write that story. How does a psychopath react when their targets can’t be killed? What happens when a “normal” person has to try and outwit someone who can bend reality almost at will. In order to circumvent the law (or at least do it well), you have to know the law. That’s why lawyers are scary.

      2. Observer Tim

        Thanks, Doc; I’m glad you enjoyed.

        It was more transspecies than transgender, since Vixen is the heroine of my superhero serial stories. Like most old-style WB nonhumans, she is treated as gender neutral until it becomes salient to the plot.

    2. regisundertow

      Vixen just keeps getting more and more interesting, Tim. In a way, this prompt was perfect for your universe, with its very knowing nature.

      1. Observer Tim

        Thanks, Dennis. I’m a cartoon afficionado going back nearly 50 years, with a special love of the Warner Brothers all the way back to the Termite Terrace days.

        I only wish I could have found a way to include… Stupor Duck!

        1. jhowe

          I’m in the unique mode of responding to Regis and Tim at the same time; what an appropriate prompt for such a thing. Thank you Regis for the kind words. And thank you OT for the brilliant words. This had me laughing internally and smiling on the outside. This was Looney Tunes all over again, plus some.

          1. Kerry Charlton

            The master slides in again and mycompetitive mind kicks in “How in the world am I ever going to catch Tim?”

  23. Reaper

    Installment 19. I will try to actually do some commenting this week, if time allows. I did read last week and found a lot of amazing stories.

    In the Beginning – The Fourth Sign

    Even in his new surroundings Peter could not resist a drink. When the unimportant cellmate offered him a sip, Peter took a guzzle. When he awoke in a nightmare land of cartoons he knew the shine was on the jug. Feeling an urge to hunt a rabbit, he also knew it must be Easter. Wasn’t he supposed to do something on Easter this year?

    Peter could not remember what his task was. The urge to hunt down the rabbit, the one that taunted while munching carrots and sometimes turned invisible, was all consuming. Though… his mind might be combining fantasy bunnies. That wasn’t important. He needed to kill the varmint. Something important depended on it.

    Peter did not have a gun, but he found a hammer and some spikes. Not ideal, but better than nothing. He set out on the hunt, determined to take the rascal by hand. That would feel pretty good actually. It would feel… biblical.

    He traipsed through the woods, whistling a jaunty tune. He almost skipped and felt like he was going in circles. Some small, rational part of his mind knew he was, around his sell. That part of his mind was lost behind the veil of inebriation though.

    Finally, Peter saw the critter. He crouched, a sick smile sliding over his lips. He crept forward but knew the creature saw him. It did not chew his carrot and give some smart aleck response though. Instead, it threw Peter a look. It looked, terrified. That was new, Peter thought. Perhaps word of his association with the divine was spreading. It might explain the change. No time to wonder about that though.

    It was much simpler than Peter anticipated. He pounced on the rabbit, pinning it to the wall. Mighty strikes of the mallet drove the spikes home. It squealed and begged for its life. It promised to convert and spread the word. Peter was beyond reason though. The task was more important than any one thing.

    After nine months in prison most of the inmates found themselves swayed by Peter’s words. There were so many converts to the men’s army that the repercussions of Peter making his unimportant cellmate into an important figure were of greater benefit than keeping him in the cell.

    Peter did not feel bad about crucifying the man on the wall of the cell they shared. Sacrifice was necessary. Besides, with that loss of one human, Peter’s ten to twenty stretch became a life sentence. Due to the manner of it and the fact that he really thought he killed a rabbit, for a long time anyway, he was transferred to a high security mental facility. There were more men to convert at the hospital and they were easier to sway. Their minds were already open to things that most could not comprehend. Besides…

    With the change in venue, sometimes Nicole could come and visit him. She was proud of him. She told him so often.

    1. jhowe

      What a cryptic hunt that turned out to be. Must have been some mean libations in that jug. The crucifixion will be a useful tool for Peter to continue with his quest to convert.

    2. HalcyonTale

      to tell you the truth I never read all the stories but now after readings your and some others I just want to keep on reading and never stopping. I will be reading your earlier installments. Great job. 🙂

    3. Observer Tim

      Very nicely done, Reaper. I think hallucination is the only way to mix something like this prompt into your larger story, and you did a great job putting it there so matter-of-factly while maintaing the dramatic style. I also like the oblique references to the prompt, which will come in handy at the end of the exercise when it gets ready for publication (hint, hint). 🙂

      1. Reaper

        Thanks, Tim, I keep hinting at that myself. Or should I say to myself? I always wonder how careful to be with that stuff. In this case it is trademark, rather than copyright, which tends to be a bit more black and white.

    4. regisundertow

      Holy. Crap. And so it begins. This is the part of the story I’ve been waiting for since I started reading your saga. Sometimes, a bunch of different elements in a story seem to be running in parallel, then all of a sudden they collide with a most audible crunch. This is what it felt reading this one.

    5. Dennis

      Well done Reaper. I haven’t had a chance to comment as much lately but have been reading. I think soon I want to go back and reread to weave all the parts together.

    6. Critique

      Reaper, I confess I don’t know who Nicole is as I haven’t read all of your installments but I intend to do so.
      This was a frightening story about a dark unstable character that has the charisma to brain wash many and, he has created a captive audience.

  24. Jay "The Doc" Wilson

    Follow the White Rabbit

    When Jessi woke in that dark forest that night, she felt exposed. It wasn’t because there were zero places to hide or that the moonlight exposed everything. The man chasing her had stripped off her clothes, so she had no protection against that frigid environment. That wasn’t the worst part, though. He was hunting her. He had a shotgun and a thirst for blood in his eyes that terrified Jessi. And when he gave her to option to run or die, she ran as hard as she could.

    She fought the urge to look back as she pushed her way through the forest. If he was right behind her, she didn’t want to know. She’d rather he blow her head off than deal with the fear of seeing that murderous bastard. She couldn’t control much of anything that night, though, so she had to be sure he wasn’t closing in on her. Besides, she needed to stop and get some rest. If she didn’t, she’d definitely exhaust to the point of failure. At that point, he’d find and kill her with no problem. She refused to let that happen.

    The leaves licked her skin as if tasting her in anticipation of her eventual decomposition into the earth, and she looked back. She fully expected to see his flashlight scanning the forest as he stepped expertly through the terrain, but there was nothing. She stopped, sidestepped behind a thin tree, and surveyed any areas not blocked by other trees. There wasn’t much more going on than the soft ticking sound of dew and the occasional suicidal leaf dancing to its grave.

    Had he stopped? Can I truly be free?

    There was a short moment of relief, but it came too soon.

    “Where are you little bunny!” he screamed, his voice echoed, but sounded oddly flat, too.

    He wasn’t close enough for her to hear his footsteps, but he was still too close. She wanted to continue running, but she couldn’t. She had to wait for the pain in her head to go away. She’d always been the victim of headaches, and this was one of the worst times to get one.

    Jessi reached up with her trembling hand to rub the side of her scalp. She’d learned a long time ago that rubbing the muscle typically soothed her enough to be able to handle the pain, and just then, she expected to feel her soft hair. Instead, she felt something hard wrapped in furry leather. She moved her hand up, and it continued into large bunny ears.

    “What the hell,” she whispered as she grabbed the left ear pulled. Instead of it coming off her scalp, it clung tight, and she nearly screamed in pain. She bit her lip to keep from alerting him, and she felt the base of the ears again. Her wet, matted hair gave way to thick sutures that wrapped around the base and pierced through her skin. He’d affixed them to her.

    A cold feeling pinched her skin with gooseflesh, which caused the wounds around the sutures to ache. Hot tears ran down her face toward her lips that now felt numbed from the shock. She was afraid she might pass out, so she leaned against the tree. A sharp pain emanated from her tailbone, and when she reached back there, she found that he’d affixed a tuft of cotton to her as well.

    As she fought the urge to pass out, she scrambled to figure out why someone would do this to her. She hadn’t done anything wrong in her life, but here she was seemingly paying for a sin that must have committed. That was the only reasonable explanation for her to experience this kind of hell. There was no man evil enough to…


    A twig cracked too close. He was near. She held her breath. Fear and shock quaked through her body, but she heard nothing. Just the silence steeped in the slowly thickening forest fog.

    Maybe he moved on, she thought.

    She tasted blood as she ground her bottom lip between her teeth. She didn’t stop, though, because the pain made her alert. She wanted to hear every bit of noise going on in that forest. If she didn’t, then it surely meant her life.


    This went a little longer than I thought it would, so if you want to finish the story, click here! Sorry for the jump. 🙁 I hope you enjoy it!

    1. Observer Tim

      On its own this is a disturbing and atmospheric piece; the entire story is downright chilling, and disturbing in the good way. I love the way you forced the story into the real world, so that no explanation was needed for world-mixing. Your hunter character is in dire need of a reality check, but is an excellently-portrayed lunatic. Overall, a great story. 🙂

  25. TGray

    500 words

    “And so,” my pwoducer said, “we’ve come to a…decision.” The pause was just wong enough to tell me I wasn’t going to wike the decision, but not wong enough for me to start guessing what it was. “We’re going to re-brand the show. I’m afraid we won’t be calling it the Elmer Fudd Show any more.”

    “We-bwand the show? Not calling it the Elmer Fudd Show?” I qweried. “What will we call it then?”

    My pwoducer’s face took on that stone wook, wike his expwession was cawved fwom mawble. “We’ll be calling it the Bugs Bunny Show from now on.”

    “The Bugs…” I spwuttered, “The what? The Bugs what? The Bugs Bunny what?” My bwain was wacing while my vision turned dark, dark wed. “Wait one minute, bub. I ain’t pwaying second fiddwe to no widucuwous wodent. If you go thwough with this, I wesign.”

    But the signature my pwoducer showed me was mine, on a contwact that said I couldn’t quit. “We think Bugs has talent, and the ratings say the kids like him. He’s the new star of the show, so you’ll have to get used to it and play nice.”

    Pway nice. Fat chance, I thought as I swammed the door behind me in a wage. “Bugs,” I muttered thwough gwitted teeth, “I’m gonna pay you back for this, you side-winding, cwingeing powecat. You can wun, but you can’t secwude youwself.” And I went to fetch my twusty Wemington.

    I found him on set showing off as usual in some cwazy dwag costume with smeawy bwight wed wipstick and a wudicwous bonnet with birds and fwuit stitched onto it. And, as usual, on the phone to his MD. “What’s up, doc?”

    “Outta my way,” I yelled, “I’m iwate, and I’m hunting wabbit!”

    Bugs wooked surpwised. “What’s all the hubbub?” So much for tawent; he’d just used up both of his wines, and the camewas weren’t even wolling yet. As my fwiend Daffy would say, jutht dethpicable.

    I confwonted Bugs wight thewe and then. I couldn’t supwess my outwage. “You think you can get away with wobbing me of my wightful top biwwing? You’ve got another think coming.” And I waised my twusty Wemington. “Pwepare to meet your Maker.”

    Of course I should have known what would twanspire next. That wascally wabbit calmly put his finger in the bawwel of my gun. I watched him do it, but I couldn’t wesist. I had to puww the twigger, and as I did, a cwoud of smoke and cindews and ash thwew itself back toward me. My overawws were burnt to wags, and my white eyes bwinked out of my bwackened face. My twusty old gun was a smoking wuin.

    “Awwight, wabbit, you win this wound. But I’ll be back.” And I turned on my heel, and weft with what dignity and wespect I could muster. Which wasn’t much, which I now bewieve is what my pwoducer had in mind. Fine, I thought, next time no more “Poor wittle bunny.”

    1. Jay "The Doc" Wilson

      I liked the story, although the ‘w’ replacements kind of threw me off. It’s hard to do, but if you will it off well enough, you can usually write a piece in such a way that you can keep all the ‘r’ and ‘l’ letters and the reader will automatically switch them out. 🙂 Practice makes perfect! (Hmm, maybe I should practice more, then, I’m far from perfect!)

      Anyway, I still liked the story. Thanks for sharing!

    2. Observer Tim

      Very nice, TGray. I can see this story as a mix of live-action and animation (e.g. Looney Toons: Back in Action) or as pure cartoon. You pretty-much nailed Elmer’s personality. Great job! 🙂

      There were a few places where you slipped on Elmer’s speech impediment, but not many. That stuff is hard to write!

    3. regisundertow

      Bit hard to read indeed, due to the letter replacement, but it was interesting in presenting the background behind the show. So many things make sense when you put it that way.

  26. regisundertow

    So many murders already, I feel redundant. Ah, well, once more with feeling.


    There’s a certain collection of phrases that boils my blood and brings a red mist down upon the world. “I don’t care” is one of them. “Not my problem” and “you deal with it” are its ugly misshapen siblings. There are more turns of phases in the English language I happen to despise, but I’d say them three just about take the cake. Under normal circumstances, that is. When lives and livelihoods are at stake, though…well, I reckon I should be thankful I got a cooler head than mine looking after me.

    We drove in silence down the empty road, cedars and pines raising a dark green wall on either side of the black Ford. I tried to spy through the branches into the forest, spotting the occasional bone-white ash standing alone like a sentinel in a sea of black, but otherwise my view was blocked. While my partner never really talked much, the few golden case-breaking words that did come out his mouth more than made up for his aloof demeanor. Still, I could see his gloved hands gripping the wheel in a vice, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him, his back hunched over. I made an attempt at an apology, but he dismissed me with a shake of his head. My words, fueled by overflowing frustration, came pouring out. I say, wait a minute there. I’m trying to thank you, see, for saving my bacon back there. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be fired, me and my big beak.

    He signed, as if he was reaching down inside, trying to find the energy to lecture me, and I knew he was about to make me feel stupid again. What was the captain’s profession before things changed, he asked as if he were my kindergarten teacher. I grinned and I knew I had him this time. Why, that’s simple, see. He was a hunter. And, given the 419 is the duck, you’d think he’d be involved, ain’t that right? But that’s too simplistic, I said before he had the chance to cut me off. Duck’s found dead with half his head scattered on the forest floor. Ain’t nothing like that happened before, not to us. Yet, since things changed, folk can never be too sure, not these days. There are limits now. Folk can no longer walk off a cliff willy-nilly s’long as their eyes keep staring at the clouds. So, I say, the captain thinks escalation. It’s a new world where a duck won’t stand up after getting kissed by a shotgun.

    I waited for a few beats, trying to gauge his reaction. His eyes never moved away from the road, but his hands relaxed just a tiny bit, stopped trembling with tension. Go on, he nodded. So I did. I say, surely this incident here will get folk scared shitless. It will confirm their fears. Hence, media blackout. Hence, riding our asses to call it a suicide sans details and be done with it. The captain ain’t involved, the captain just can’t handle the implications.

    I reckoned I saw his eyes narrow inside his green helmet. Not bad, he said in his monotone voice. Interesting narrative. Not simple, but reasonable. You’re getting better. We’re here, he said as he turned into a dirt path, taking us into the woods. Up ahead in the distance, I could see the clearing and the police tape hanging limply from the trees. We pulled over and approached the crime scene.

    The pine needles were disturbed and the ground had a darker hue where the duck’s body had been found, but, otherwise, it was empty. Marv knelled with his electronic notepad, his fingers dancing over its keyboard. I walked the tiny clearing’s perimeter, trying to pinpoint the owls amongst the branches, when I came across the tree with the suicide note. “Duck Season” it read simply. I stared at it for several minutes. It was hand-drawn in a crude fashion on a brown shopping bag and hammered to the tree. I focused on the words, wondering of their meaning, until my eyes blurred. Taking a step back, I regarded the note, then the tree, then the darkness behind it and the sudden realization turned my stomach into a knot.

    I walked to Marv, still crouched over his gadget, and whispered. There is a but, isn’t there? He nodded, of course there is a but. He stopped typing and looked beyond my shoulder at the suicide note. He got up, walked up to it, and tore it off. As the note floated to the ground, his eyes remained transfixed to the nail still buried into the tree bark. As I approached him, I echoed his thoughts out loud. If the duck hammered the note to the tree, where was…

    The hammer flew out of nowhere, past Marv’s head, and hit me on the shoulder. Marv pulled his gun out and swung it in wide arcs, looking for a target. His voice remained low, but the monotone was broken by fear. You ok? I pulled my own gun out and covered his back. I replied louder than I wanted. It wasn’t the attention the captain was scared of, was it? This wasn’t a suicide.

    Marv retreated, never taking his eyes from his sights. We’re outmatched here, he said grabbing me by the arm. Get into the car. Now.

    A deep, hollow voice like a glacier came as if from all around us and my blood turned to ice.

    What’s up, Doc?

      1. regisundertow

        Thanks Shameless. Bugs already struck me as a proper psychopath who wouldn’t let go of his habits if Toons started dying by his actions.

      1. regisundertow

        Indeed, Jhowe! Watching some of those shows now, I can’t believe the level of violence they got away with. Thank you for reading, I’m glad you enjoyed it.

    1. Observer Tim

      This reads like a hard-boiled detective story on acid; it would be a good companion piece to Roger Rabbit. I like the fact that you explained, if briefly, how a major cartoon character could become a homicide victim for more than a few seconds. It clearly forces the characters out of their universe and into ours. Also, the introspective descriptions were perfect for the setting and the character, as was the quiet reveal of Marvin (the Martian). Great story! 🙂

      1. regisundertow

        Many thanks Tim! Have you ever noticed how many shootings, beatings, and mutilations the Toons suffered in every episode? All with impunity. Take the cartoon logic away and you end up with a bunch of psychopaths. I remember catching an episode while channel-hopping where two main characters shot themselves, pistols to the temple and boom, all in a kids show.

    2. Dennis

      I really enjoyed this. I loved the grittiness of it, the complete opposite of what a cartoon would feel like. And the sudden downfall of the Loonies. Great idea. As for all the violence, I’m wondering if that flowed from the silent comedies and vaudeville, where there was a lot of physical comedy. But looking back, I’m wondering, What were they thinking?

      1. regisundertow

        That thought hadn’t occurred to me, it does make sense. Pushing vaudeville to its limits, and then keep going, because cartoons, because new medium, because they could.
        Many thanks for reading, I’m glad you enjoyed it.

    3. Reaper

      This one was a little confusing with the speech staying in the same area. Normally you avoid that easily but I found this one just a bit more jumbled. Beyond that I really liked it, the tone was amazing and I really liked the change of world you were describing.

      1. Kerry Charlton

        While reading this, my skin crawled slightly, it was that powerful. One way the violence was turned down on Looney tunes was having the perpetrator run into more physical abuse than the victim. AKA the Road Runner vs. the Coyote. In cartoon world, no one got away with anything.

        1. regisundertow

          Cheers, Kerry. You’re right, of course, but I always found Bugs specifically to be the exception. He was almost untouchable, whereas the Coyote, Foghorn, et al all suffered for the things they tried to pull off. The idea of a force like that continuing its ways in a world where shooting someone in the face has repercussions…That’s a scary thought.

      2. regisundertow

        Thanks Reaper. I think Foghorn’s “I say” messed up the separation of dialogue and description. I’ve gone over the dialogue a few times and it tends to get smoothed out once that phrase and slight restructuring take place.

        Do you have a particular example in mind of where it doesn’t work?

  27. Katia.Snow

    I creep through the woods, my gun in hand. What gun, you may ask? Don’t ask me. It isn’t even mine. I borrowed it from Yosemite Sam. Suddenly, I hear twigs snapping. I whip my head around and see the shadow of a very familiar bunny. I chuckle as I aim my gun, ready to deliver the fatal shot. ‘C’mon…almost there,’ I think as the infamous Bugs Bunny comes into view, holding a sign that read: “Rabbit Season.” He nails it to a tree and stands back to admire his work. I mentally face palm myself. Is this bunny trying to get himself killed? I aim my gun again and shoot. Bam! I quickly run towards Bugs only to find nothing there. The bullet hit the sign. I curse angrily. I need to kill this rabbit! Why, you may ask? Don’t ask me. Ever since I ate an apple that tasted like a peach I had a strong urge to kill Bugs Bunny. I look around for fresh rabbit tracks and follow them, my gun loaded. As I walked, a patch of berries caught my eye. I knelt down, and picked some only to realize that they looked suspiciously like nightlock. What is nightlock? Don’t ask me. I read it in The Hunger Games. I suddenly have an idea.
    “Bugs!,” I scream at the top of my lungs. “I give up! You win!”
    A minute later Bugs appears out of the bushes with his usual smug expression.
    “You win,” I repeat, holding out the nightlock. “Take this as a gift.”
    Bugs Bunny takes one berry and pops it into his mouth. I start laughing hysterically and jumping up and down. Bugs looks at me like I am insane. I am.
    “You ate the nightlock!,” I say between giggles. “I am the winner of the seventy-seventh Hunger Games!”
    Bugs Bunny crosses his arms impatiently and taps his foot.
    “You done yet?,” he asks. I stop laughing and frown.
    “Why aren’t you dead yet?,” I demand, clenching my fists in anger. I really want this bunny dead, and I am beginning to get impatient at all my futile attempts.
    “Meh,” Bugs yawns. I glance down at my gun, which I dropped when I started laughing, and I know that it’s now or never. Before I can swiftly grab the weapon and shoot the damned bunny through the heart, I get a really weird feeling in my stomach. It quickly becomes painful and I stumble back, unsure of what is happening. Slowly, the pain subsides and I sigh in relief. ‘Wait, what happened?,’ I ask myself. Any memory I had before eating the apple that tasted like a peach was gone. I look around, wondering what Bugs and I are doing in the woods.
    “Bugs, what are we doing in the woods?,” I ask.
    “Well…you were just about to kill me,” Bugs said. I scratch the back of my head in confusion.
    “Why in the name of Looney Tunes would I kill you?,” I laugh. “C’mon, let’s go over to Speedy’s. I feel like I haven’t had his pizza in forever.”
    What just happened, you may ask? Don’t ask me. I couldn’t care less.

    1. regisundertow

      I got no idea what happened, but somehow it makes sense. Taking drugs in the woods? Hallucinations? Having the munchies afterwards? Any chance your version of Bugs is related to the White Rabbit?

      1. Katia.Snow

        I wanted to leave the reader wondering what happened. I don’t usually do that, but I decided to give it a try this time.

        In answer to your many questions: no drugs, probably hallucinations, what exactly do you mean by munchies, it’s very likely they’re related.

    2. Observer Tim

      You ever wake up stoned and find you’re in the wrong hallucination? This clash of two fictitious worlds was very nicely done, Katia. I love the use of the classic turnabout trope, which is common in both cartoons and “real world” novels, and the fact that nobody is seriously hurt in the end. Great job! 🙂

    3. Dennis

      I like how the MC is hallucinating as if in the cartoon. You create a definitely feeling of looniness in the thoughts the MC has. It was crazy yet funny at the same time. Great job.

  28. Trevor

    Other Laine Reed installments:
    Night At The Museum
    What Did You Do?
    The Tortoise And The Hare

    Word Count: 730

    Laine Reed: The Looney Murder

    “Deary…are you alright?” A familiar voice whispered into my ear. I opened my eyes and instantly, I knew something was different. Everything around me was vibrantly colored. The bright hues almost gave me a headache. As my eyes adjusted to my heavily tinted surroundings, I looked up and saw I was not alone in this unfamiliar territory.

    “Oh, thank goodness you’re alright, Dear. We were worried you’d be hurt during your teleportation.” An elderly woman said as she stared down at me with empathetic eyes. When I heard her soft, gentle voice, I instantly knew who the woman was.

    She was Granny from Looney Tunes-and she wasn’t the only one. Surrounding me were several other Looney Tunes characters. Thanks to years of obsessing over Looney Tunes as a child, I recognized everyone. Daffy Duck. Sylvester. Tweety Bird. Porky Pig. Even Marvin the Martian was there, his spaceship parked in the distance.

    “You brought me here?” I asked, still groggy from having just been awoken. “Why?”

    “W-w-w-w we need your help!” Porky Pig stuttered as he nervously pushed his way through the crowd. “There’s been a m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m….a murder!!!”

    As soon as that word hit my ear, my confusion was replaced with intrigue. I had been transported to the world of the world’s most iconic cartoon to solve a crime. My reputation as an amateur detective had really spread.

    “Who was murdered?” I asked as Granny helped me to my feet. Granny’s face turned solemn as she explained the tragic situation to me.

    “Elmer Spud.” Her jovial voice had suddenly become choked with sadness. “Daffy found him in the forest. It was so horrible! And I can’t believe…..” Granny couldn’t finish her statement before she collapsed in tears. Tweety and Daffy stepped forward to comfort the poor woman.

    “The worst part is, one of our own did it.” Daffy said as Granny buried her face into his feathery stomach. I asked who it was, and the answer was enough to shock me.

    “Bugs. When I found Elmer, he had his rifle in his hands. Bugs shot him in the face!” Daffy shouted, obviously enraged.

    “He couldn’t have! Please tell me it’s not true!” Granny cried out in misery. The news had obviously destroyed her.

    “If you know he’s guilty, why haven’t you turned him in?” I asked. Everyone’s faces were solemn, as if I had just said something upsetting. Daffy was the first to speak up.

    “Lola’s gone. We think he might be holding her hostage.” That’s when I realized I wasn’t dealing with a typical mystery. I was dealing with a cold-blooded killer who had someone held captive. This may have been a cartoon, but the situation I was in was all too real.

    “You have to go after him.” Daffy said as he stepped up to me. “You’ll need this.” I still remember the cold steel of the gun he handed me. I had never held a gun before. It was scary at first, but as I held it up and examined it, it gave me a weird feeling of strength and protection.

    “There’s a cave in the woods. I think that’s where he took Lola.” Those were Daffy’s final instructions before I started my trek through the forest. It didn’t take long for me to find the cave. I stepped inside, my gun at the ready. And what I saw put the situation into a new light.

    Lola and Bugs were lying on the ground, their hands tied together with rope and tape over their mouths. Putting the gun down, I hurried to Lola and gingerly removed the strip of tape silencing her. Lola coughed and took a few deep breaths.

    “Bugs didn’t kill Elmer!” She screamed. Bugs nodded his head rigorously, his shouts muffled. “What do you mean?” I asked.

    “Bugs didn’t kill Elmer! It was him!” Lola shouted as she looked over my shoulder. I turned around and saw Daffy standing in the entrance to the cave-with a rifle in his hands. He aimed the gun at me, pulled the trigger……

    And I woke up with a jolt. My latest “mystery” had been nothing but a strange dream brought on by spending an afternoon watching Looney Tunes while babysitting for the next door neighbors. It was a short-lived mystery, but I still enjoyed it.

    Little did I know that my next REAL mystery wouldn’t be so fun.

    1. Observer Tim

      This is a good take, Trevor. You created a gritty scenario within the cartoon world without breaking it, which can be a difficult feat to pull off. I like it! 🙂

      The only weak point for me was putting the reveal that it was all a dream at the end, which has always seemed a bit of a cop-out for me. It would read better in my loony opinion if Laine (the smart one) caught on fairly early to the fact that it was a dream, but went along anyway.

    2. Reaper

      So, I am one of those people who has a cringe to it is all a dream stories. This is well done for that kind of story but I would suggest using it to evolve your character. Show the MC evolving into the true detective. Use the dream as a way of his subconcious mind finding a clue missed in a current mistery so the resolution is something that is tangible. That is just my take, and again, take it with a grain of salt because of my own preferences but it would take a wonderful story and give it a more powerful ending, for me.

  29. Carlitos

    My eyes bulged, my skin crawled, my tongue drooled and my feet shook. My reality had dematerialized- transported into a cartoon heaven (where the knee high crowd cheered at the antics of a furry, long-eared rodent that had dropped a heavy ACME block on the head of a pudgy doofus with a shotgun in hand). Or was it instead a facade hiding a hellish Serling episode where everything goes astray at the end? My head was a hurricane. I was in an unreal world! An OZ where Alice fell down the rabbit hole only to reappear holding a half eaten carrot between its fingers like Groucho Marks. Bugs? That sly wabbit with a trickster’s smirk and a cagey twinkle in its eye. No matter how fast it would run, I had to snatch it because my gut was now screaming for meat, rabbit chow. But that stinky vermin read my head and knew, somehow, that I was aiming to catch it and eat it barbecue style. I reached left and it flashed right. I took a step forward and it swirl behind and flicked my ear. I hid behind a tree only to watch it walked up to me (bolt) and give me two slaps per cheek before diving into his hole. I even shoved a handful of TNT sticks down its escape hatch, sparked each one, turned around and covered my ears. Bang! To my painful surprise the smarty pants had dropped the explosive down the back of my floppy pants and left me a smoldering pile of coals. I turned tomato red and steam blew out both my ears. I tried everything but nothing worked. In the end I chased bugs up and down the grassy slops to the horizon and it was all for not. Oh, humdrum…

    1. Katia.Snow

      Good job, Carlitos! This was an excellent story, and you described your character’s thoughts and emotions really well. Keep up the good work!

    2. Observer Tim

      This is very clever, Carlitos. It reads with the flow of a Tex Avery cartoon, not giving the reader (me) a chance to stop and think. I like it! 🙂

      My red pencil says it was all for naught; the other spelling gives a different meaning.

      I think the ending could be strengthened by using something like “Just another day…” instead of “Oh, humdrum…”

  30. cosi van tutte

    Today was my wedding day. Was is the important word here. I WAS going to get married and honeymoon in Wahoo, Nebraska. Me and Cherokee Pete were going to go the Wahoopalooza and buy fabulous neck scarves and a whole two pounds of Ostracized Goat’s jerky. It was going to be the best day of my life.

    But then, things went wrong.

    I couldn’t find my lucky turtle bouquet.

    My dog ate my $1500 Christian Louboutin lace wedge heels and then threw them up on my wedding veil. I had no choice but to wear my tennis shoes.

    The flower girl beat up the ring bearer.

    The minister developed sudden onset laryngitis. He couldn’t even whisper.

    Oh, and Cherokee Pete had poison ivy all over his face.

    But I was determined to marry him. No matter what. I would just save our first kiss and first night for later. Much later.

    Then, that rabbit came in. That darn, blasted, carrot munching rabbit! He ran into the church with a crazed duck and some weirdo hunter chasing him.

    Cherokee Pete let out a war whoop and tried to chase the noisy, meddling trio away. He did his best. He really did.

    Until the rabbit dropped an anvil onto my darling Pete’s head and knocked him out cold.

    Only then did the three idiots stop and realize where they were.

    “Hmm. I knew I missed the left turn at Albuquerque.”

    The duck slapped the back of the rabbits head. “This is what happens when I let you do the driving. Sheesh!” Spit flew every which way with every pronounced “s”.

    “Sowwy, folks.” said the hunter. “Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh! We’wl be goin’ now. Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!” He pulled out a remote control and pressed an over-sized red button.

    A large red bull’s-eye with a navy blue center appeared in the middle of the aisle. The rabbit beat the hunter and the duck to it. He jumped through the center and disappeared. The hunter went next.

    The duck posed dramatically and said, “That’s all folks!”, spraying more spit everywhere. It was horrible. He followed his companions’ example and jumped into the center.

    My wedding was ruined.

    I screamed, “Bloody murder!” and ran towards the bull’s-eye. It started to shimmer and fade. I ran as fast and as hard as I could.

    That’s when Cherokee Pete returned to consciousness. “Janey, hon? Where you going?”

    “I’m gonna kill me a rabbit!” I jumped into the center right before it disappeared.

    1. Observer Tim

      THANK YOU! This is the first take that didn’t try to impose real-world physics onto what are obviously cartoon characters. It read like a cartoon I’d love to watch, or a skit that would have fitted perfectly into Animaniacs. I love the way you interpreted the characters and the features of the genre. Absolutely perfect! 🙂 🙂 🙂

    2. Dennis

      It started out great with last week’s reference of the turtle bouquet at the wedding. They’re definitely not good luck in any way. Fun story and liked how they came into her world and then she jumped into theirs.

    3. Reaper

      I was laughing all the way through this. Your voices were wonderfully done and gave me flashbacks to my younger days. I also really enjoyed your combination of the last two prompts.

  31. turtles88

    «It’s me, Brother of Turtles. I wish you all good health and happy smiles»

    Silvery white flakes twirled downward from the open heavens and collected on the shoulders of Elmer J. Fudd.

    Elmer, carrying a long gun, couched low behind a bush. With his gun poked through the foliage, Elmer slowly aimed at the tall grey rabbit and whispered, “There you are, my friend.”

    Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. Thick smoke engulfed the surrounding air, soon drifting away, revealing a dead rabbit with blood pouring from its neck.

    As he was bending down to collect his old friend, Elmer heard a soft click from behind and felt the cool touch of metal on the back of his neck.Before he could react, he was forced onto his hands and knees.

    The person pressed the gun deep into Elmer’s neck and said , “And we all. Fall. Down.”

    Silvery white flakes twirled downward from the open heavens and covered the body of Elmer J. Fudd and the body of Bugs Bunny.

    1. Observer Tim

      I love the imagery in this piece, Turtle Brother. This feels like cartoons meet the Iron Age of comics. I wonder what Bugs and Elmer are going to do in the next scene when they come back from the dead (as cartoon characters always do)…

  32. ReathaThomasOakley

    Honey Bunny’s Diary

    Write it out, the therapist says, write it all out. Okay, nearly two decades of holding it inside, the anger, the shame, the humiliation, nineteen years and I’m writing. I’m writing, but I still want to kill him, hunt him down like the rodent he really is.

    If you’re reading this, that means you know me and who I want to kill. That’s right, that two-timing playboy, Bugs “wascally wabbit” Bunny. Okay, calming breaths, start from the beginning, that’s the therapist’s advice.

    I first met Bugs in 1953, sort of a passing in the hall thing, but I was smitten. He was better looking in person than in the movies. I was the novice, not certain where my career was headed, but it wasn’t long until I was cast as his girlfriend. I still remember that first, “What’s up, Doc,” off camera.

    Through the 60s and 70s we were everywhere, sharing carrots for the camera, sharing hopes and dreams in private. How could I have known the hopes and dreams were only mine. Oh, I’d been warned, he’d played the field for decades, but I thought I was different. Ha!

    Then, in the 80s, when I’d been reduced to just a face and body for Loony Tunes merchandise, there were rumblings of something big coming, something not ever done before. Gene Kelly’s dance with Jerry Mouse was mentioned, as was Bug’s name, but no details. I begged him, but I don’t think he knew much until Who Framed Roger Rabbit opened, THE movie event of 1988.

    What I wouldn’t have given to be Jessica, the role of a lifetime, that one line, “I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way,” was star making, that Mae West vibe, always thought she’d make a great ‘toon…but, I digress.

    In the 90s I started hearing rumors again about a major movie starring Bugs. We’d been on and off since the 70s, but, I wanted in. My agent, another male I’d like to kill, got me the screen test for Space Jam. I was ready for full length. But, then, then, I read, yes, no one called, I had to read in People, not even Variety, that some low life named Lola got the female lead. Who, I ask, did she shake her cotton tail at for that! Calming breaths, calming breaths. At least she hasn’t been heard from since.

    My therapist says I should focus on the positive aspects of our relationship and let the negative baggage go. She says she envies me because every morning I look in the mirror and there are no gray hairs, no wrinkles. But, that’s only because no one is taking the time to redraw me. No one cares about an old bunny, living her life in this ghastly place, sharing meals with the likes of Claude Cat and The Crusher, bit players as are all the others here. But, ME? I could have made a comeback, been a lead again. I’m only here because of him, he could have gotten me that role in 1996, but he didn’t. If I could just get a gun, I’d show everybody what That’s All Folks! really means.

      1. ReathaThomasOakley

        Thanks, at first I didn’t think I’d be writing this week, but for some reason I thought of Grizabella from Cats and it all sort of came together.

    1. regisundertow

      This week’s prompt was a bit challenging, but I’m positively surprised by your entry. Loved the introspective and retrospective mood of the piece.

    2. Observer Tim

      This is a very deep and thoughtful take, Reatha. It puts me to mind of Who Framed [Censored] Roger Rabbit with the idea of cartoon characters existing as real world actors. I remember Honey, and you did a great job explaining her treatment at the hands of WB. Female characters often got the short end of the stick in their films. I’m sure therapy would be needed. Beautiiful! 🙂

    3. Dennis

      Loved this. It was so spot on for what could happen in reality, but you did it with Looney Tunes characters. Such seamless writing. Wasn’t sure I would do this prompt, but I might have to rethink it.

      1. ReathaThomasOakley

        Thank you, Dennis. I also thought I’d sit out this week, but images kept bombarding my brain, so I encourage you to go for it. There are lots of great stories this week with all sorts of approaches to the prompt.

    4. Reaper

      I like this a lot. Well written and sympathetic. This is darkly beautiful. I hear Kermit is a free man again, perhaps your MC should look into Frog Season? This has a subtle intensity that I quite enjoyed.

  33. jhowe

    The first annual Loonie Tunes Convention, affectionately dubbed LoonieCon, was in high gear on a Saturday afternoon and was a roaring success. The grand ballroom at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas was packed with cartoon enthusiasts from all walks of life, including several A-list Hollywood stars, business tycoons and one ex-president of the United States. And then there was me. Just a regular guy, one Howard Evink from Scranton Ohio wearing a Sylvester outfit that was custom made. It cost me six and a half grand; and it was exquisite. It was made of real cat hair I’d been collecting almost all of my adult life.

    The star attraction at LoonieCon was the Wabbit Simulator. For two hundred dollars a person could attend a virtual hunt with Elmer Fudd and spend ten minutes searching for the most famous rabbit the world has ever known. I had reserved my spot the day the announcement for the convention was posted six months ago and I was ready.

    With much fanfare the Wabbit Simulator was opened and the crowd went bonkers. To my complete surprise the host called my name as the first person to go in. I shed my floppy hat and the Tweety Bird robe I had on over my outfit and with wobbly legs walked to the entrance and waved to the crowd. There was stunned silence and several gasps. The cat fur had been woven into small patches and fused to my skin with a special reverse electrolysis method. The black and white fur had been painstakingly placed in all the right places. The announcer seemed unsure of what he should do so I handed him my ticket and strode into the machine. Not knowing what to do next I shouted, “Hit it!”

    The doors closed and the machine hummed as the lights dimmed. A forest scene appeared and I entered. Elmer Fudd carried his double barrel shotgun and told me to be quiet in his special way. There was a sign that said ‘Duck Season’ on a wooden post.

    “Duck Season?” he said. “I’m hunting wabbits.”

    Daffy Duck showed up and switched the sign just as Elmer blasted him. Elmer was accused of being despicable and the duck straightened his bill as Bugs Bunny showed up. I was in complete awe wondering if this was perhaps heaven.

    There was a lengthy exchange of beliefs as to what season it actually was when Bugs said, “it’s cat season.” Elmer quickly aimed the shotgun and pulled the trigger. I flew backwards and wondered how I must look with a charred face and maybe some missing fur. I saw myself gathering the fur in my arms and letting fly a choice insult Elmer’s way but my vision began to blur and I had difficulty moving. I felt wetness in the fur on my chest but my hands wouldn’t function to see what it was.

    “Do you think we might have gone a little too far?” Daffy said.

    Bugs looked down at me. “Nyaaa, could be.”

        1. lionetravail

          Thanks so much, Reatha 🙂 Occasional successes bring such joy, don’t they?

          Hope all are doing well- I’ve been busy, as usual: successes are reported on my FB page if anyone wants to look for me there. Will try to get through posts this week and read and comment where I can.

    1. Observer Tim

      Nice one, JHowe; your MC is definitely having serious reality issues. You painted a great picture of a rather fanatical furry. On the other hand, the company should probably have tested their equipment before turning it loose on the fan community. Great job! 🙂

    2. Dennis

      Oh man, loved this. First, if there isn’t actually a LoonieCon, there should be. I think people would go nuts for it just like you described. And of course the Wabbit Simulator was awesome. Quite hilarious bit.


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