Work Text:
It's late on a Thursday evening and you’re walking home and, considering how your shift started, you could say your day didn’t end half bad. Or so you hope. You feel exhausted, maybe even more than usual, but who wouldn’t be after all those long hours standing and working on customer service? Not even mentioning the pay you get, a fucking pittance.
After walking what seems an endless distance, your feet are killing you a bit, and you’re starting to think that it wasn’t such a good idea to grab some high heels, instead of your sneakers or something like that. You can only think about getting home, getting rid of those stupid high heels and flopping onto your bed. Maybe ordering discounted takeout and turning on the TV- Yeah, nothing beats some trash TV to give you the dopamine hit you need, sounds about right.
Your excessive daydreaming comes to an end when you manage to see from afar a signboard, the “Prickly Pear” motel, place where you’ve been staying for the last six months, after having moving out from Albuquerque. It’s a decent-looking motel, with some options and, most importantly, you can afford it without a struggle.
Halfway in your internal monologue, you spot your neighbour's car, Kevin Avery, a middle-age lawyer that, if you’re honest, looks like a depressing guy but, even with that, is nice. Sometimes, when you’re late for work, you stumble upon him and greet him.
With that last thought, you get upstairs until the second floor,with your eyes glued to the ground, like you’re used to. Once you’re in front of the door, you rummage your purse, trying to find the room key, which becomes hard work considering your talent for losing your belongings. “Great”, you whisper with your voice full of sarcasm. You probe your pants pockets and there it is, the victorious card.
The door closes behind you and you can swear that you feel lighter once you’re home, making you smile with self-sufficiency, thinking that you can finally make true your plans since the morning shift started.
You quickly kick off your heels, strip off the rest of your uniform, and toss them aside. After you put on your coziest pajamas and grabbing a quick snack, you settle into bed with the TV on.
To your surprise, your moment of joy ends quite shortly, after a thunderous noise comes from next door, in the room where nobody’s supposed to be living. Well, now it looks like it is and, though you don’t see yourself like a fussy neighbour, you have to admit that the noise is driving you insane. Hammering, one and another shake of the wall, and then it all becomes suspiciously quiet. “Weird”.
Your patience runs out when you hear an explosion- wait, an explosion? “You gotta be kidding me.” You get up of your bed, searching your slippers, and get out, ready to find out what the hell is happening on the other side.
You stand right in front of the door and slam your first exactly three insistent times. Nobody answers. You try one more time, but then again, no answer. Giving up is not in your plans, so you decide to just turn the knob and apologise later to whoever is behind this all.
“Hello?”, you whisper, leaving the door ajar. When you look out, your eyes don’t know where to look: the room is stuffed with stuff that you’d simply call junk. You take a step inside and a aerosol can bounces against your slipper. You’re about to bend down to pick it up, when something much more interesting catches your attention.
There’s a tall figure, slim and hunched, wearing a ridiculously big welding mask. They’re so immersed in holding the flaming blowtorch that they haven’t even noticed you’re there.
“What the…”,the words escape your lips, and even then you don’t add more, staying quiet. For a moment you try to reconsider, turn around and leave, even though you honestly hate being left with a question in your head. And this particular situation is giving you a lot of questions, so you approach them and say, "Hey, listen. I don't mean to interrupt-" The stranger turns his head in your direction, and when he sees you, you can feel his body tense up. Then everything happens very fast. Seriously, very fast.
The blowtorch he was carrying, lit, slips from his hands and falls on his foot. As a consequence, he lifts one leg and jumps a few times, trying to express his pain. During one of these jumps, he trips over a cable lying on the ground, which you probably hadn't even noticed when you arrived. But the stranger doesn't have much time to think about it because, trying to avoid falling, he grabs the first thing he sees. This results in all the objects falling on top of him, completely crushing him.
You're speechless. Your mind processes it as quickly as it can, and you apologize several times. The stranger removes his mask, and that's when you realize he’s a caricature. "Oh, now it all makes more sense," you think as you watch him get up as if nothing happened. He was a disheveled-looking coyote, a little shorter than you, with a piercing gaze, yellow eyes, and large black pupils.
"Let me help you." He didn't say anything, but shook his head, declining your offer politely. He stopped dusting himself and his gaze was now set on you; most likely he was studying you from head to toe, wondering what you were doing there.
"Sorry for barging in like this, I knocked and you didn't answer. I'm your next-door neighbor..." Your discomfort grew suddenly when you didn't get a response. "Hey, um, would you mind keeping the noise down? I've had a terrible day and I'm trying to watch TV. I'd really appreciate it."
Since you didn't get an immediate response, you thought maybe he hadn't understood what you meant, or worse, he just wasn't paying attention. It wasn't long before the coyote nodded a couple of times and, with a lopsided smile, showed you a sign that read, "No problem." You whispered a thank you and went back to your room.
Back in the comfort of your home, you begin to reflect on how strange the whole scene was. Or maybe, given it was a cartoon, it was normal enough. You don't know, but at least the noise stopped, allowing you to listen to the morning news, which just happens to be repeating on TV. You pause to read the headline: "Local coyote sues giant Acme conglomerate," and you don't need to be an expert to connect the dots, considering your neighbor Kevin's face is prominently displayed.
You're about to make a sarcastic joke out loud, but an explosion interrupts you for the second time in the night. You don't need to be a detective to figure out where it came from, so you get up quietly and, with that coyote in your mind, go back to check on him to make sure he's okay. Or at least as okay as a cartoon character could be.
Now, back in the coyote's room, you quickly scan the place until your eyes fall upon him. Or what's left of him, since he's half-dead on the floor.
You choose to approach him slowly, and soon you're crouching beside him.
"Hello again, are you okay?" You expect a silly response to a silly question, but that doesn't happen. Once he hears your voice, the coyote shakes off and springs to his feet, displaying a sign that reads, "minor inconvenience," along with a confident smile, which makes you burst out laughing.
Okay, you admit this cartoonish coyote-man has his charm. You even forget that you also came to scold him for all the commotion he claimed to have stopped; instead, you're now more interested in him. "Hey, I forgot to ask your name a while ago. What's it?"
Then, the coyote pulls out a card and hands it to you with a confident gesture, as if he'd been waiting for this moment all along. You hold it in your hands and read aloud his name: "Wile E. Coyote," with the word "Genius" written below. You alternate your gaze between the business card and the cartoon character in front of you, who flashes you a cheeky grin that takes your breath away for a few moments. Then you burst out laughing, but this time your laughter sounds a little nervous, almost embarrassed. It's a somewhat absurd situation, but you have to admit you found him charming.
You stop laughing and notice that he's been staring at you the whole time. He probably wants to know your name too, you're not planning on giving it to him yet though, so you reply, "I'll keep that in mind, Wile E." You don't know where you find the courage to playfully stroke his chin with your index finger, then slip the card into your pocket. "I hope you win the case," you say before leaving, and when you glance back one last time, you could swear you saw his pupils dilate.
As usual, it's already morning and you're running late for work again, which doesn't surprise you as much as the scene you see when you step outside of your apartment. Seriously, a perfectly calculated setup to send your neighbor flying through the air and getting dressed in the process. Courtesy of Wile E., of course.
You rush down the stairs, in a hurry. You inevitably bump into these two men halfway down, so you greet them both. Then you hear Kevin ask, a little disoriented, "Wait, do you know Mr. Coyote?"
“Oh, yeah. Long story. I'm running late for work, have a good one with your, uh, lawyer stuff!” You give the coyote in the car a particular look and smile at him. He does the same, and you even dare to say he gives you a flirty smile. (Was that a glittering smile effect?)
You were already gone when Kevin raises an eyebrow and looks at the coyote, who just shrugs, nonchalant.
“Are you serious? With my neighbour?”