COUNTERWEIGHT
“A-yeeeee!” ”Oh boy.”” Sorry!” “You’ll be just fine, pal, that’ll wash out.” “Oh yeah, that’s a real classic. Can’t they come up with anything new? I swear, some people.” Fourth-rate toon, Billy Bunny is once again careening through the street on some out of control contraption. (No relation to the big guy, or those two, or those OTHER two. Or Frank Bunny from accounting. Or anyone really, if you think about it. Poor guy’s on his own.)

This time, he’s managed to put himself out-of-control of an old-timey streetcar, somehow. He’s squashing and stretching the thing, and going a million gags-a-minute creating small disasters in lieu of bigger ones.

Avoiding a pane of glass being carried through the street, just for the shockwave of the car’s landing to shatter every pane of glass in the storefronts along the street. But hey, the one he jumped over got away scott free! “There ya go! That’s a win.”

Billy zips out ahead to help a little old lady across the street so she wouldn’t get splatted, but then, she puts on a ski mask and pulls out a comically large revolver to rob the bank on the other side of the crosswalk. “Eh, you can’t win ‘em all.”

Billy manages to grind the car to a stop inches before it fails to make the turn at the bottom of the hill and launches itself straight into the bay. But who should be watching all of this unfold, sitting on a conveniently placed park bench? Some guy… named Mike. Probably an accountant or something, Probably works under Frank Bunny. Who knows, who cares?

“Another rough week, Billy?” Mike asks, rhetorically. These two already have a rapport. Mike always seems to find himself crossing paths with Billy Bunny at the worst times.

“Aw shucks, Y’know it, Mikey.” Billy answers casually, as if he wasn’t directly responsible for a swath of property damage, humorous bodily injury, and equally humorous moral injury, as well as one count of improperly parking a fictional vehicle. “Ain’t no one wants to give poor ol’ Billy Bunny a round o’ ap-plause. Not even a good old ‘bravo~! Makes me wonder what the hijizuts I’m even doin’ this fer. Maybe it’s time for me to go back to the inkwell. Try again as one o’ them newfangled blobs with the creepy square teeth.”

Billy denies that notion just as quickly as it came out of his mouth. “Aw, what am I sayin’. That ain’t me. And dimes to don’its, I’ll bet’cha I won’t do one lick better, I tell ya.”
“Oh no, Billy, don’t even think of that. You’re more fun just the way you are!” Mike does his best to keep Billy motivated. “You need someone to say ‘bravo?’ I’ll say it for you, all you need. Bravo, bravo, bravo!”

Billy’s a choosing beggar. “You wouldn’t mind giving me juuust~ one more, would’ja?”

“Uh… Bravo?” Mike adds, believing he had already made his point.

Just then, a passing seagull has a war flashback, triggered by the repetition of the word ‘Bravo,’ causing him to crash into a street sign, then plummet straight onto the battered mooring, barely holding the bell to the streetcar. That impact is the last little bit of force required to break the bell loose causing it to bounce off of the roof of the car and straight onto Mike’s head.

Mike is left seeing literal swirling stars, and a tall bump rises out of the top of his head as he reels, then collapses to the ground.

Billy Bunny hops down from the streetcar in a mild panic. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows Mike will be fine, but The Code compels him to try at least something in a situation like this.

With no funnier options coming to mind, Billy goes for one of the oldest tricks in the book. He blows on his thumb, inflating himself to the curvy, voluptuous shape and size of a buxom mid-century showstopper, after a whirlwind costume change, he’s wearing an extremely provocative cheerleader’s outfit. One that would have been too lewd even 20 years ago. He's updated the gimmick somewhat, but even then, he’s still behind the times. Nevertheless, he does his best Valley Girl impression to go along with it. “O-M=G. That’s totally not good. I need to, totally, like, kiss it, or something - to make him feel better!”

By now, Mike’s shaken off all but one of the stars on his own. “Ugh, maybe if you let just a little bit of that air out, mostly up top. That’s a little too much for me.”

Billy produces a pin, with which he bursts the fluffy protrusions, which then sag until he also produces an old, hot flatiron to smooth them out. Wincing in exaggerated pain the whole time. Likewise, the air was also taken out of his impression. “You better appreciate this pal, I don’t do special variations for just anybody.”

“Don’t worry Billy, I do appreciate it.” In a sort of left turn, Mike’s taking the opportunity to flirt? “You’ve hit on something special here. If I could make my eyes pop out of my head like you guys can, that’s what’d be happening right about now.”

Billy is taken aback, like they’ve gone off-script “Wait just a darn minute, Mikey. I didn’t know you-y’swung that way. You’re not flippin’ the script on me and playin’ the screwball yerself, are ya? I ain’t no fool. That’s ster-ict-ly against my contract.”

“It’s real, Billy. Now hurry up and do it already, so this last star can stop pestering me.” Mike’s patience for the toonforce dizziness is at its limit.

Billy Bunny does as he has a million times before. He plants a big, sloppy kiss right on Mike’s mouth, complete with a loud “MWAH!” Every single one of those countless times, it’s been a gag. The other guy would turn to the camera in confusion and discomfort, realizing he’d been deeply embarrassed by the blatantly obvious deception of one Billy Bunny. But this time, it’s different. Sparks fly, literally, of course. And that last star? It perks right up and leaves Mike behind, It hops, bounces and cartwheels like it has a mind of its own — into a storm drain.

Billy manages to take notice of the errant star’s fate. “Oof. That can’t be good. I hoid the sewer gator population barely survived the last time that happened. Oh well. Not our problem, is it?

The wellbeing of the alligators of the city’s sewage system being out of his hands, Billy still can’t believe that Mike could possibly be telling the truth. Billy has never had anyone, man or woman, like-like him before. It’s always been a distant, professional fondness for a relic who got left in the dust early on. He almost can’t believe he could ever deserve it. “Just so we’re all perfectly crystal clear here, You really ain’t pullin’ my cute little pawsies, Mikey?”

Mike reiterates his genuine interest in Billy. “I told you, I’m not. You’re just that cute, Billy. There aren’t any strings attached, No pies in your face. Every time we’ve had a little encounter, it’s been a pipe dream of mine that you’d dig up that old chestnut. I always felt a little jealous when I saw you do that to other people on TV.”

Billy’s eyes spin like the reels of a slot machine. The right eye lands on BAR, and the left lands on a heart. He reaches into a back pocket that shouldn’t be there, fishes out a large, wooden mallet. and bashes himself on the head with it, jarring the reel to also display a heart.
“Well, ain’t that lucky. I just so happen to gots a table for two reserved at ‘Lay Grond Sha-tow Day Pray-tonce’ for an hour from now!” Billy can really pull anything out of thin air, can’t he?

“That’s surprisingly convenient. Did you plan this?” Mike is eager to believe that. It would be like a dream come true for him to be swept off his feet in some grand plan on Billy Bunny’s part.

“Heck no!” Billy doesn’t even try to soften the blow. “Don’cha remember ‘The Modern Young Hare-fessional? I made this reservation 60 years ago! And here I thought I was gonna have to skip it!”

“Sorry Billy, You still might have to. I’m not dressed fancy enough for that, In fact, I don’t think I even own anything that lives up to their dress code.” Mike admits, loathe to fumble this opportunity.

“Nonsense, you’ll clean up just fine, Mikey!” Billy grabs Mike by the back of the neck, lifts him into the air, and pulls out an old fashioned rug beater. It gets used prodigiously, stirring up a large cloud of dust that obscures everything but the meaty sound of battering and Mike’s moderate cries of pain. “Ow, ow ow. Ow! OW! Ow… Ow. Are you done yet?”

“Yeah, yeah. I didn’t know you were such a little wimp, Mikey.” Billy remarks, as the dust cloud clears to reveal Mike in a tuxedo well above his pay grade, and Billy in a beautiful, long flowing blue dress that seems to sparkle as it catches the light. “We have to return these by midnight, just so ya know, or the lease paperwork for my apartment’s going to turn into a pumpkin and I’ll lose my deposit”

Billy gushes about the fancy restaurant as he leads Mike by the arm in a giddy rush. “You’re just gonna love this place, Mikey. It’s a lotta fun. Some o’ the best in the darn business are there all the time. It’s a real riot.”

For living in a world with toons, Mike isn’t too well acquainted with their peculiarities. “You waited 60 years for this, I figured it was some stuck up fancy-pants affair.”

“Oh yeah, It sure is. But Rule One’s never suspended!” Billy’s excitement is overflowing. He has big things in mind, for sure.

“Rule One?” Mike asks, cautiously.
“Y’don’t know Rule One? I guess ya wouldn’t. You ain’t a toon! Rule One: ALWAYS! HAVE! FUN!” Billy explains. “And I got some real fun plans in mind for you, Mikey. They’ll really knock ‘em dead! …But I bet we’ll be the ones enjoyin’ ‘em most o’ all!”

They arrive at the restaurant, and it is very fancy indeed, although it’s much more like a burlesque club than Mike was expecting. But on second thought, it’s perfectly within Billy Bunny’s wheelhouse, and he feels foolish for having expected something different.

Inside, there’s a markedly theatrical atmosphere. Mike’s the odd one out, too, all of the staff and patrons are toons. But who else could stand to keep reservations decades into the future? “Hey, Billy, I’m not going to be served a roast chicken with a stick of dynamite in it, or a 2D meatloaf, am I? Are you sure this is the kind of place I belong?”

“They’re very~ accommodating, Mikey-boy. Don’t you worry none.” Billy reassures him, awash with sultry implications that seem to go right over Mike’s head.

They’re seated at opposite ends of a very long table. “I knew I shouldn’t have reserved a table for a long-distance relationship. But I’d be field-dressed if I was gonna take the reservation in 120 years instead!”

Billy’s thoughts turn to the plans he somehow made in advance. “At least I thought ahead and paid for the ‘charm package!’ That’ll get him eatin’ outta my paws in no time! Maybe a li’l more’n that, If I’m lucky! -lucky… lucky~”

Billy thought that so loudly that Mike could almost hear it. “Did you say something? Must be feedback or something.”

Billy Bunny’s ears twist together as he blushes and stretches bashfully. He almost gave up the game. His insatiable lagomorphic instincts are telling him to turn up the flirt-o-meter immediately. But he can’t. That’d be too fast, wouldn’t it?

“You okay over there, Billy!? It’s hard to see you from all the way over here!” Mike yells from all the way across the table, which is now much longer than it started. Spanning most of the floor.

Billy glances nervously to both sides. “It’s fine Mikey! Been a long time since I did anything like this. I got a little o’ that ‘perfoimance anxiety!’

“What? I can’t hear you!” Mike shouts, the table now being longer than could even fit in the building earlier.

Billy Bunny doesn’t stand for this nonsense. He stretches his arms out to violently yank Mike’s end of the table back to its original position. “I said- I said I got perfoimance anxiety, Mikey.”

“You’re performing? That’ll be fun. Condition of the reservation, huh?”

Billy grips his neck to physically catch an outburst as it rises in his throat, before he says something he regrets. “Naw, It’s just been… A long time… since I been on a date. Let’s see here.” Billy raises a hand to count on it. “Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten” Five extra fingers appear on his hand as he counts them. “Leventwelvethoiteenfourteenfifteen, uh, twenny” Another hand appears from nowhere. Then another. “Thoity, I think. The reruns o’ the 70s shows was the last time I was eatin’ good.