Work Text:
An utterly boring, average party played out before him. Plentiful in small talk, meaningless toasts to the success of the law firm, and the obnoxious sounds of chewing from cartoons and humans alike that made his ears twitch. Whether envy or discomfort, he didn't care to name it.
Of course, his focus remained solely trained on the bird perched awkwardly in one of the chairs, beeping cheerfully at the attention from the surrounding strangers. Indeed, The Roadrunner was the only reason he had chosen to attend this lackluster celebration.
Everyone involved in the case on their side had been invited, meaning another chance to catch The Roadrunner off-guard outside of their normal routine, or so he had hoped.
The issue was that the bird had not stopped shifting once since sitting down. Tail feathers pressed stiffly to the back to the chair twitching back and forth, legs folded strangely in an attempt to fit long appendages in the human sized chair without hanging over the edge, neck extended uncomfortably high simply to reach eye level with the others. This wouldn't do.
Taking out an empty sheet and settling down an appropriate two seats away from his prey, he began to sketch out the beginnings of a trap. He needed the bird comfortable first before this could work, so he focused on how to accommodate the backward bending joints The Roadrunner had.
Now, most toons had a more humanoid bipedal structure, even birds like that “Daffy Duck” having wings that served more as arms, as well as knees that bent forward, not to mention proportions sized near identically to humans.
So, the best place to start for his bird would be a stool. Long enough for his legs (tibiotarsus) to rest comfortably pressed to the surface, with a low back so as to allow his tail feathers to move freely.
Of course, it would stop before becoming so long as to force his ankles (tarsi) up into a stiff upwards position… perhaps an extendable footrest would be in order.
Scratching this down into his notes, he added a strap that could hold a cushion or pillow to the seat, alongside four sufficiently tall legs to the bottom. Enough that his Roadrunner could hunker down and still comfortably hold his head above where the average table's height reached.
Briefly, he considered making the leg height adjustable, before scrapping the idea and moving on to the ends where his pencil finally came to a halt.
Wheels or stubs? The Roadrunner would appreciate having wheels, and though it would give him mobility were he to use his talons to propel himself, it would be considerably slower than him running at full speed on his own two feet. A false sense of security that could lead to The Roadrunner being too slow to flee his clutches…
But knowing him, his first ideas were always bound to go wrong… an image of The Roadrunner spinning uncontrollably around a room and flattening him into a paper thin approximation of himself flashed before his eyes, and he moved to mull over basic stubs. Eventually, he settled on designing both, and leaving a question mark and the word “interchangeable” below it.
He had plenty of wood leftover from all of the acme crates, with a new coat of paint and some expert carving it would make a perfect base. He could take apart those faulty rocket skates for the wheels, and he was sure to have a spare pillow around somewhere, as well as belts from some old costumes to fashion into straps… yes, it was coming along perfectly!
Before he could bask in his endless ingenuity, someone tapped his shoulder, breaking him out of his planning, and he turned to see the outstretched talon of a very familiar bird. Mouth pulled back into a snarl as The Roadrunner wagged his tongue in a mocking gesture, he leapt out of his seat, blueprints stuffed into his hammerspace to leave his paws empty to grab at his prey.
He hardly noticed the humans that were also filing out as the party ended, nor the scenery as it changed, buildings and cars whizzing by unnoticed to his tunnel vision. This continued all the way back to their desert, before The Roadrunner finally dashed away, ending another chase on his terms.
Of course, this just left Wile E. to trudge back to his cave, grumbling as his mind returned to the task at hand.
—
The next event they were invited to that required chairs, Wile E. came ready. He pulled out the proud result of his hours of work, placing it in the spot of an inferior human chair, and smiling smugly to himself. It had been more fun than he thought it would be, and he found himself doing more than he strictly needed to, ending up having fully sanded and polished the wood.
The wood outshone the cheap fake wood positioned on either side of it by miles, dark blue pillow set perfectly on top, his name engraved beautifully where the ACME logo might've been plastered were this one of their products.
To anyone else, it looked a little underwhelming for the amount of pride he undoubtedly held over this piece, but their opinions hardly mattered. The person whose thoughts counted here was swiftly approaching, loud “BEEP BEEP” and displacement of every loose object in the room announcing the bright blue bird who now stood in front of The Coyote.
Rather than chase or grab, he simply stepped aside and presented his work, to which The Roadrunner curiously cocked his head, grinning. After circling the furniture a few times and pecking at the wheels, he pulled himself up into the spot made for him, completing The Coyote's work with the centerpiece at last.
Letting out a pleased huff and crossing his arms, Wile E. hardly noticed his tail swishing happily, nor the fact that in his excitement he had forgotten the actual trap part of this scheme.
But what did that matter? He'd catch The Roadrunner soon anyway.
Maybe tomorrow.