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Wile E. Coyote grinned with a full set of razor-sharp teeth. The comically large ACME brand fly swatter he was holding above his head was just large enough for the Road Runner, currently a little blue plume on the horizon, rapidly approaching, leaving a trail of dust behind him. Wile’s heart was pounding, and his mouth was watering, but he hardly noticed either of these reactions anymore.
As Roadie passed through the distortions of the desert mirages, his image growing larger and clearer, Wile’s eyes darted between him and the pile of bird seed located at the center of a giant red target. Roadie was so close now that he could see his legs moving. Not too much longer now. Wile’s paws were sweating as he tightened his grip on the fly swatter. Just a little closer.
“Beep beep!”
Wile’s eyes widened. Before he had a chance to react, Roadie blasted right through his trap, a shower of dust and bird seed left in his wake. Wile coughed, and when the dust cleared, he noticed a sign on the ground, which read: “No thanks, I already ate!”
Wile gritted his teeth and growled. He let go of the fly swatter and shook his fists in frustration, unable to let out a howl before the fly swatter came down upon him. With a slam, he was flattened.
Wile sighed and mopped his brow with the back of his hand, unknowingly leaving a smear of yellow paint on his forehead. There was no way this one wouldn’t work. He’d made it as simple as possible, painted the empty distance off the end of a cliff to look like a continuation of the road. All it required from Roadie was for him to do what he always did best: run.
Wile was even cognizant to tie himself to a post at the end of the cliff, so that while he was standing on the road he was painting, he wouldn’t fall into empty space. It was an act of simple genius: so reduced, that surely the Road Runner wouldn’t anticipate it.
And here he came now; from the distance, Wile could hear Roadie’s feet slamming into the ground, cracking the asphalt beneath him. Wile quickly ran back onto solid ground, untied himself, and dashed behind a rock. He watched with glee as Roadie approached, right on trajectory. Wile didn’t know what would be waiting for him at the bottom of the cliff, but hopefully nothing that would hurt him too bad.
”Beep beep!” Here he came. Wile had no time to think of anything else right now, not when his eye was on the prize. He braced himself for impact: being near the Road Runner when he ran past was like standing next to a jet when it broke the sound barrier. Which Wile had done once, in the past. It made his ears hurt.
Road Runner zoomed through, sending up another cloud of dust, too fast for Wile to discern what had happened. However, the trail of dust had seemed to go in the right direction. Wile leapt happily out from behind the rock, trying to catch his feet beneath him as he dashed over to the end of the painted road and looked down. His smile dropped. He didn’t see Roadie at the bottom. What he did see was a large cactus patch, and a stream of acid water runoff from a nearby power plant. His spirits dampened. Roadie could have been seriously hurt, and then what would he do? He would have caught the Road Runner, but at what cost?
”Beep beep!”
Wile’s eyes widened with relief as he turned and looked behind him, to the little blue bird still standing on the cliff. He grinned, and the Road Runner tilted his head to the side with his signature earnest smile. Before Wile could walk back with open arms, Roadie pointed at the coyote’s feet with another “beep-beep”.
Wile’s stomach dropped. He looked down, the paint still wet on the bottom of his paws. That’s right, he was standing on empty space. He barely had time to break the fourth wall before plummeting hundreds of feet into the cactus-ridden ravine.
Wile squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the first impact of a thousand cactus spines into his back. Then, he was rolling through the patch, down the hill, and into the acid runoff. All of his freshly opened wounds stung like never before. Every inch of Wile’s skin was pounding from the pain. He laid there, in the stream, just hoping that wherever it took him would be less painful.
The stream carried him down the side of a craggy waterfall, Wile hitting every razor-sharp rock on the way down. Finally, he hit a slope-shaped rock that sent him flying into the air. For a moment, he simply relished the lack of any more impact on his body. Then, he was sent flying back down to Earth. He didn’t even look, just maneuvered his body into the proper face-plant position. He smashed into the ground below, leaving a crater in the perfect shape of his body.
Wile didn’t move. He was trying to catch his breath, but the immense pain he was in was making this impossible.
From the top of the cliff, Roadie had watched Wile’s entire descent, and was now waiting, too, to see if he’d move. That fall looked painful. He wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Beep beep?” Roadie asked to himself, fear starting to set in with every second that passed. Wile still wasn’t moving. He usually got up by now, no matter what. He’d been flattened by a bulldozer plenty of times, and every time he’d pick himself up, blow on his own thumb, and re-inflate himself within five seconds. So why, now, why wasn’t he getting up?
Roadie’s stomach dropped. Was he…?
Before he could finish that thought, Roadie dashed at full speed down the road, finding a much less painful route to Wile’s location. With a sound one might hear on the sidelines of the Indy 500, Roadie zoomed to a stop beside the cutout of Wile’s body in the earth. He looked into the hole, relieved to see the rise and fall of the coyote’s chest.
Wile looked terrible. He was covered in cactus spines from head to toe, and patches of fur had been burned off by the acid stream. The skin underneath was an angry red, and covered with scratches.
“Beep beep?” Roadie asked, gently pecking at Wile’s right paw. There was no response. Roadie nudged his beak against Wile’s neck, imploring him to move his head.
Wile did, turning his head to the side to face Roadie. He opened his eyes, and Roadie was crestfallen at the look in them: like he’d finally given up. Like he didn’t want to keep going, not anymore.
Roadie dug into Wile’s pocket with his beak until he found his time card. He took it, darted over to the nearby punch clock, and clocked him out. He went ahead and clocked himself out too. He went back to Wile.
”Beep beep?” He asked again, this time hoping that if Wile saw they were no longer on the clock, he’d cut the act. But still he laid there, pitiful and emaciated.
Road Runner took Wile’s paw in his beak, dragged him out of the hole and into a nearby cave. He hoped that the cool air would alleviate the burning pain. He laid Wile on a pillar of stone shaped like a cot, making quick work of plucking out the cactus spines, one by one. Wile’s groans of pain heightened in severity, but he did not protest. Roadie pulled the last spine from Wile’s ear, spitting it out into a large pile he’d made in the corner. He then reached into Wile’s pocket again, first pulling out a pair of scissors, then an active stick of dynamite, (Roadie quickly snuffed it out) then a roll of gauze and ACME brand petroleum jelly.
Knowing ACME, the jelly was probably flammable. Roadie discarded it and pulled out his own petroleum jelly, generic brand, which he kept for the occasional road rash. He slathered it over the acid burns on Wile’s skin, then wrapped them in gauze.
After finishing, Road Runner stood over Wile, whose body was lying limp on the stone cot.
”Beep beep?” He asked again.
Wile sighed through his snout, finally opening his eyes. He studied Roadie, and smiled. With a shaky arm, he pulled out a sign that read, “thank you.”
Roadie smiled back, licking the streak of yellow paint off of Wile’s forehead. Wile giggled—he must’ve been ticklish. He raised a paw and gently grasped Roadie’s neck. Roadie looked at him, curious.
”I’ve got you at last.” Wile drawled weakly.
”Beep beep!” Roadie exclaimed, hopping out of his grasp and flapping his wings. He pulled out a sign that read, “I clocked you out, that doesn’t count!” with a “gotcha” expression.
Wile grinned, resting his paw on the Road Runner’s head, flattening his spike of feathers.
“My dear Road Runner, that’s not what I meant.” He said, the strength returning to his voice.
Roadie glanced up at Wile’s paw on his head, then down, making eye contact with him. He smiled back.
”Beep beep.” He said, and Wile knew what it meant.
The Road Runner nuzzled his beak into Wile’s neck, causing him to giggle again. Wile petted the rigid feathers on his back, felt the soft plumes underneath. He closed his eyes with a content smile.
Roadie licked Wile’s ear affectionately, and then, with a soft “beep-beep”, he turned and darted out of the cave. Wile opened his eyes to see a cloud of dust in the shape of a heart.