Chapter Text
Wile E. Coyote (gayus doggus) was not used to having friends.
Well, he was used to having one friend: the beeping blue-feathered menace called the Road-Runner (superspeedi prei). He was also used to having a circle of acquaintances, such as Bugs Bunny (rabbitus idioticus delicious) and Porky Pig (oinkus boinkus). He was even used to being forced to join an intergalactic mixed-media basketball team in order to save the world! But his areas of the desert — his caverns, caves and mesas; his alluvium, arroyos, and arches; his pinnacles, playas, and plateaus — were, by and large, deserted, which meant nobody ever stumbled upon his cave, nor did he happen to casually encounter many strangers. All this made Paige and Kevin’s insistence on caring for him, despite his usefulness to them having expired, all the more unique. And — he would willingly admit it in his own wordless way — touching.
The fact remained, however, that he was living in the middle of butt&$@# nowhere by most human and cartoon standards. And being a cave-dwelling genius, as well as being a beleaguered sisyphean lawsuit-losing homosexual sand-dog, was — save for the bounding blue blaze that was the Road-Runner — a profoundly isolating existence.
All this to say: Wile E. Coyote, genius who possessed both Brain and Willingness To Travel, didn’t often receive guests.
The first sign of the… thing’s… arrival were the clinking, clanging, ticking sounds.
Surely not, Wile E. thought. Surely it can't be...
But, as any shrewd consumer of media will know, whenever a character thinks 'surely it can't be,' it surely is.
Wile E. was, of course, genre-savvy enough to know this. He cowered against one rock wall and, ears almost flat to his skull, peered carefully out of his cave. A little black alarm clock, one he hadn’t seen since 1965, was waddling toward him, springy Road-Runner head and all.
Wile E. recognized it instantly. Of course he did! He was a genius (and… a... father?). What he was not, though, was emotionally astute. The moment the alarm clock was in cartoon-violence range, the Coyote yelped, panicked, and smashed it with a rock. The moment the rock made contact with the top of its head, both he and the clock (and the rock) promptly exploded.
Three seconds later Wile E. was back onscreen, blackened to a crisp. He poked carefully at the upheaved ground around the perimeter of the desert’s newest crater, examining it for signs of life. When something moved, he yelped and smashed it with a rock, and then all three exploded again.
Since Wile E. hadn’t seen the alarm clock since the sixties — and since he was currently brushing soot from the explosions off his fur — you could say it was a real blast from the past.
The second time the alarm clock came by, Wile E. slunk into his bed and pulled the covers over his head. After a moment of thought, he lifted one corner of his blanket to push out a sign that said SORRY
A pause. The alarm clock’s cheerful little clanking didn’t stop.
He pushed out another sign: PLEASE DON’T BLOW ME UP
The alarm clock blew him up.
The third time the alarm clock came by, Road-Runner himself brought it. He sped by in a blue-orange blur, legs pinwheeling, with the spring neck of the creature crimped carefully in his beak while the rest of it, elongated, blew wildly through the air behind him. It was releasing various discordant clanks, which could very well be a sign of distress.
Coyote shrieked. His legs spun in an impotent circle for a long moment before hitting the ground hard, and he was running. Faster, faster, faster he sped… but no, not quite fast enough to catch up to the Road-Runner. Thinking quickly, he resorted to desperate measures. He pulled out a sign from behind his back — WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT THING?! — and hurled it as hard as he could at the Road-Runner. He whipped out a steady stream of signs and hurled each one at his prey, each marked ?! ?! ?!.
Cartoon comedic timing was on his side that day (just because it was funny). The signs spun through the air and knocked solidly into the back of the Road-Runner’s plumed head. They bounced off one by one, spun back into the air, and planted themselves firmly into the ground in front of the bird, blocking his path in a straight line. He screeched to a stop with a thwungggg! to read them. The alarm clock bounced in his beak and let out a distraught (or excited?) clonk.
After analyzing the question (and its author’s gratuitous overuse of punctuation — it’s a limited number of signs, Coyote, so you can’t write ?! on eight of them), he turned to face the canid, clock still dangling by the neck from his beak. He pulled out his own sign: ROAD-RUNNERS CAN’T READ
YES THEY CAN! Wile E. insisted.
NO THEY CAN’T!
YES THEY CAN!
NO THEY CAN’T!
YES THEY CAN!
Road-Runner curved his neck to the side, closed one eye, and gave Wile E. a rather devious look. He flipped his sign so it read YES THEY CAN!
NO THEY CAN’T! Wile E. retaliated, then shook his head so fast it became a blur. He flung his sign to the ground and whipped out a blank one and a marker. He turned his back to the Road-Runner to scribble out a quick sketch of Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny, which he then flipped toward the Road-Runner and drew a pointed X through. The message was clear: I’m not doing Daffy and Bugs’s ‘Duck Season / Rabbit Season’ bit with you! He added another sign: WRITE YOUR OWN BIT.
Road-Runner stuck his tongue out at him. ROAD-RUNNERS CAN’T WRITE.
YES THEY CAN! Wile E. insisted, jabbing his foreclaw frantically at the Road-Runner’s written sign.
NO THEY CAN’T!
YES THEY CAN!
YES THEY CAN!
NO THEY CAN’T — &@%#!
Coyote had had enough! He marched forward, fuming, and snatched the clock-creature right out of Road-Runner’s beak, so fast it made a whip! sound through the air. He cradled it to his chest and glared. THAT’S NO WAY TO TREAT A
He didn’t know what to call it. It? Her?
A WHAT? Road-Runner asked, drooping a little. He was clearly getting tired from all this standing still.
A BABY, Wile E. completed.
YOU BLEW HER UP SEVERAL TIMES, Road-Runner pointed out.
I WAS TRYING TO BLOW YOU
The Road-Runner tilted his head.
Wile E. yipped like a puppy and frantically corrected the sign. I WAS TRYING TO BLOW YOU UP
Road-Runner was grinning. Wile E. was sweating. BLOW YOU UP. NOT THE BABY, YOU, he clarified again. Another, more honest sign: AT LEAST THE FIRST TIME
HOW MANY SIGNS DO YOU HAVE?
Wile E. fished around his back for an answer. He confidently presented YES
…Wrong sign. He reached back and shuffled around. Certain he’d got the correct sign on his second attempt, he puffed his chest up and whipped out NO
…Well, that one was also wrong. Third time’s the charm, he decided. HELLO, he brandished valiantly.
HELLO! Road-Runner replied with his typical sunny expression.
&@%#. Coyote knew he had a sign with a number on it somewhere. He rooted around until he thought he’d grabbed it, but it turned out to just be THANK YOU.
YOU’RE WELCOME, Road-Runner replied, smiling wide.
Wile E. sighed, palmed his forehead, and continued searching, but only came up with EXTREME PAIN, I WOULDN’T MIND - EXCEPT THAT HE DEFIES THE LAW OF GRAVITY!, MERRY X-MAS, and HOW DID I EVER GET INTO THIS LINE OF WORK? He threw all of them out (they’d be back later), looked at the Road-Runner, and shrugged. It was about then that he realized he was no longer holding the alarm clock.
Where… where was she? He could hear her sounds. It sounded like they were coming from…
Uh-oh. They were coming from behind him.
(Something creeping up behind you, when you’re a toon, is always bad. At best, it's Gossamer; at worst, an ACME product.)
Carefully, gingerly, slowly, his lip wobbling with repeated tremors of fear, Wile E. Coyote turned around.
She was, indeed, right behind him. He forced a smile and formed one of his paws into a friendly wave, hoping against hope she wouldn’t blow him up again.
She blew him up again.
When Wile E. came to, his ears were ringing, but both the alarm clock and the Road-Runner were gone. The desert, bathed in a wide expanse of mauve and umber sunset, was once again deserted.
Coyote was very glad he had lawyer friends, because he had a feeling he might have to ask them a few questions about child support.