"The Showdown"

A TTA fanfic adventure by Mike "El Hombre" Cote

The following story is Copyright 1997 by Mike Cote and may not be
rebroadcast or retelevised without express written consent of the author
(A.K.A. me).

All TINY TOON ADVENTURES characters, names and related indicia are
Copyright 1997 by Warner Bros., Inc.  Nothing in this story should be
construed as a challenge to such copyright.   The author has received no
remuneration and will accept no remuneration for this story.  Basically, I
had nothing to do one afternoon and I thought I'd kill a couple hours by
writing a TTA story, something I ain't done in like two and a half years.

So  :P

Now, for the rest of you that don't care about legalese, grab yourself a
bottle of Boone's sangria (the best sangria that you can buy...actually,
it's possibly the ONLY sangria that you can buy, but don't worry about
that), and sit back and enjoy!  It's a short, quick read.  Always a plus.

ON WITH THE STORY...

     It was over.  
     There's was nothing left to do.
     He tried, and he lost.
     It's not easy admitting defeat, but there comes a time in any battle
when one knows they have been beaten.  And now was his time.
     Buster looked up slowly.  Through the drifting, almost random clouds
of brown dust that blew across the point-of-view of Buster's eyes, he
could see clearly the eyes of the man who had beaten him.  He was standing
straight over him.  His red bandana hung limply around his neck,
occasionally twitching in what little breath of air was around.
     The weakened blue knees, supporting his weight, collapsed, and Buster
dropped onto the street like a felled high-rise, falling down to his knees
first, then down toward the ground, face-first, until the brown, bone-dry
dirt, the skin of the world, was all that he could see.
     The crowd that had not come out to see the fight, certainly were
compelled to look outside their windows after hearing the thunderclap-like
sound of a gunshot outside.
     Black Bart, the nastiest, most wicked gunslinger in the west,
returned the tainted black barrels of his aging six-shooters back into the
holsters that hung off his belt on either of his hips.  He reached up, and
with his sleeve wiped a lovely crystal colored hanging ornament from the
bottom of his lip.   He took a finger and ran it up and down his black,  
frayed mustache, from his lip all the way to his nose, then took the
time to insert that same finger into his right nostril to remove a real
winner.
     He flicked it at the crowd, mostly women wearing powder-blue dresses
they had made themselves.  The crowd shrieked, and parted like the Red
Sea.   Black Bart's gift of gold sliced through the air like a knife,
splattering like a bug onto the front window of McLittlehale's General
Store.
     Arms akimbo, Black Bart let out a might laugh, one which sounded only
slightly less intelligent than that of a triumphant gorilla.  His belly
rumbled back and forth, and jiggled like a bowl of Jell-O being eaten with
a jackhammer.   He removed his abyss-black ten gallon hat, and flourished
to his audience.
     "Whaddya think about THEM apples??"  Bart yelled to the citizens of
town, who were now huddled in a mass a quarter of a mile down the street,
just in front of the Sheriff's office/jailhouse.
     "I think them apples are great for chawin' on!" answered back a
nearby voice.
     Black Bart was taken completely aback.  "Huh?" he asked incredulously
as he looked down toward his toes.  His right foot was now sans his black
ostrich-skin boot and his denim pant leg was rolled up all the way to his
knee, exposing the frogbelly-white skin underneath.
     Buster smiled heartily as he grasped the leg with his hands.  "Why, I
think I'll chaw on this one right now!"  With that, Buster's jaws opened
wider than the Holland Tunnel, exposing his pearly white incisors.
     The angelic sound of enamel tearing into bone made the entire town
flinch.  They cringed at the yelp of Black Bart, whose howl rivaled one of
a coyote baying at the moon.  Those who dared to look down the street saw
the meanest gunslinger in the old west hopping up and down on his left
foot chanting "owie-owie-owie" several times, as he cradled his smarting
right leg in his hands.
     Buster wasn't done yet.  Quickly reaching down to his form-fitting
chaps, Buster removed a large hemp lasso and spun it around his head.
Black Bart saw this and decided to try to make a break for it.  His futile
hopping wasn't getting him very far, and he knew it.
     Before he could make his escape, Buster threw his lasso around the
torso of the outlaw.   Buster yanked on his end, and the villain dropped
to the ground, with a magnificent *whump*, right onto his sizable
derriere.  Buster dashed around him as fast as he could go, kicking up even
more brown dust.  When the dust settled back down to mother earth, the citizens
of this once-lawless town began to bellylaugh...for there, right in the
middle of Main Street, was Black Bart, hog-tied, and struggling to move.
     The laughs from the citizens turned into cheers of victory.  They
ganged-up on Buster and put them on his shoulders, carrying him
triumphantly toward the saloon.  There was going to be a party, and Buster
was the guest of honor.
********

     Buster was no wimp.  He slammed his fist hard onto the finished
mahogany of the bartender's wooden countertop.  "And I want TWO scoops of
ice cream in that milkshake!  And they BOTH better be strawberry!!"
     Buster's back was sore from all the patting it had taken in the past
ten minutes.  Everyone, from housewives to the innkeeper to the manure
shoveler wanted to shake Buster's hand, and he shook hands with everyone
of them, save the manure shoveler.
     The two hands he was waiting for most of all, though had yet to come.
He looked around, and he did not see them.  One of them was probably busy.
He had things to attend to.  He was an important person.  The other one
had no excuse.  At least, Buster hoped not.  If the person he had in mind
had an excuse, it was probably something like she was busy washing her hare.
     There was an old man waiting at the swinging front doors of the saloon,
looking out into the street.
     From directly across the bar, he could see Black Bart clinging onto
the bars of his newfound home in the Sheriff's office, and he could also
see the Mayor in the building next door, the telegraph office, and he was
busy receiving a message from the telegraph operator.  The Mayor read the
message on the yellow piece of paper he was handed, and then quickly, as
fast as his short stocky little legs and two-toed feet could carry him,
bounded toward the saloon's entrance.
     "Gummy Joe", as he was known, primarily because he had lost all his
teeth in the Civil War, turned toward the bar.  "Here come Mayor Pig!" he
pronounced through badly chapped lips.  Graciously, Gummy Joe opened up
one of the swinging doors for the mayor.  Unfortunately, at the exact same
instant, the mayor went to push the door open and missed it completely.
His momentum made him drop to the floor, flat on his face.  Indignantly,
the Mayor pushed himself off the floor, dusted off his fine tweed jacket and
blue and white silk sash reading "Mayor", and proceeded toward the bar.
     The saloon was silenced.  The crowd that had gathered around Buster
broke a hole to let the mayor through.
     Buster gulped hard as the Mayor walked over.  As he approached, he
held up his short, stocky little arms and announced:
     "Gather around everyone, gather around!  I have an announcement to
make.  By the power invested in me and by authority of the Governor of
this territory, it is my privilege to appoint Buster Bunny our new sheriff!"
     The mayor reached into his vest pocket and removed a shiny, sparking
gold star, the word "SHERIFF" emblazoned on it.  He pinned it to the front
pocket of Buster's leather vest.  Applause, hoots and "yippie-ky-y-ya"s
filled the saloon.
     "Thank you, Mr. Mayor," said the new sheriff.  "I will try to do the
best job I can do."  They shook hands.  Buster's first wish had come true;
one pair of hands he wanted to shake, he was shaking.  The other was still
nowhere to be seen.  While this bothered him, he tried his best to put it
in the back of his mind.
     "Well, I sure hope you last longer than our last sheriff," whispered
the mayor.  "He got ran out of town in less than an hour."
     A sudden uneasy silence in the bar startled both Buster and Mayor
Pig.  They both looked up.  Standing in front of swinging doors of the
saloon was a figure; one that neither Buster or Mayor Pig wanted to see.
They were both expecting him to come, but they were hoping he didn't.  All
hope was abandoned, though, as he entered.
     In the back of the room, the piano player hit a song with a minor key.
     A long, jet-black shadow crept across the room.  Everyone stepped
away from the new Sheriff and the Mayor.  The Mayor began to quake; his
whole being from his head to his little pink, curly tail dangling out of
the back of his trousers was shuddering.  His teeth tapped out "S.O.S." in
Morse code.  His fingers nervously twiddled in front of his face.
     The figure standing at the door clapped three times, slowly,
sarcastically.  He took a step forward, and the spurs connected to his
bare Achilles heels jingled loudly, punctuating his intimidativeness.
     "So," he said, "Sheriff Buster Bunny.  Verrrrry impressive.  You
threw the SECOND most feared outlaw, Black Bart, in the clink.  Now,
I'm assumin', you're gonna come after me."
     Buster's bottom lip quivered violently as he stared at the
approaching figure.  It was not out of terror, though, but out of anger.
"I've heard about you," Buster grumbled.  "You talk big...but you ain't
big.  You don't scare me one bit."
     "Oh...I think I do," answered the figure.  He took another step
forward, and more jingling resonated from his spurs.  "I think I scare you
to death."
     He was standing right next to Buster now, symbolically challenging
his authority.  Buster was angry, but deep down inside, he was
also scared.  The stories he'd heard about this outlaw were running
through his mind.  And now, not four feet away, stood that menace to
society.  One and the same.  Buster could feel his adam's apple rising in
his throat.  But, keeping his cool, Buster knew how important it was to
look his adversary straight in the eye in a situation like this.  And that's
what he was going to do.  Buster bit his bottom lip roughly with his two
front teeth, and gulped hard.  Buster, then, laid down flat on his stomach,
put his chin down on the floor, and looked him straight in the eyes.
     The locals called him "The Spider".  He stood almost four inches
tall, four and one-half inches if you included his black cowboy hat.  He
had six guns on his belt.  Not six-guns, but six guns, one for each of his
arms.  They were as shiny and well-kept as the star on Buster's chest.
Other than the hat and belt, all he wore was a grimy red bandana, a pair
of silver spurs, and a perpetual sneer.  He picked his teeth with the
splinter.  An old story about the splinter suggested that he wrenched it
out of the palm of one of the sheriff's he'd run out of town.
     And he'd run all of them out of town.
     "I can see the fear in your eyes now, sheriff," The Spider told him
in his ridiculously high-pitched, squeaky voice, that sounded about as
threatening as a meowing cat.  Buster doubted that FEAR was showing
in his eyes.  He thought it was more because he had to cross them to see
his adversary very well.
     "What say we meet outside, five o'clock tomorrow, and settle this thing
once and for all," Buster queried.  "You win, I go.  I win, you go." The
saloon took in a deep gasp of air, all as one, as Buster spoke his words.
     The Spider rubbed his chin with his uppermost left hand, while
cradling his elbow in his uppermost right hand, and then he paused for
what seemed like an eternity.  Everyone in the saloon drew a deep, wheezy
breath, waiting for the answer.
     "Sounds just peachy to me, sheriff," he finally answered, cracking
the deafaning silence in the bar.  "Five o'clock.  And don't be late."
He took a step closer to Buster and leaned up against his pink button
nose.  "And don't try to hide from me, sherrif," The Spider told him
bluntly, "you're in MY web now."   With that, The Spider made his way out
of the saloon, his jingling spurs announcing his departure.
     No sooner had The Spider vacated, than the questions started.
     "How can you possibly...?"
     "What are you going...?"
     "Do you think you have what it takes to....?"
     "Can I have your CD player when you get run outta town?"
     "Not NOW, Plucky!" snapped Sheriff Buster.
     Plucky sank back into the crowd, grumbling to himself.
     "I have a question, sheriff," announced a voice in the back of the
room, so menacing it again brought the saloon to silence.  They turned
their attention toward the pool table.  Standing behind it, arms crossed,
was Babs Bunny.  She was wearing a large, light pink hoop skirted dress
and carried a pink parasol over her right shoulder...not to mention a
scowl that would turn a man to stone.  "Why do you do these things?  You
could get yourself run out of town tomorrow!  You never stop to think
about what's important, do you sheriff?"
     "Miss Babs," began Sheriff Buster, before he was cut off by Babs
storming out of the saloon.
     This time a chorus of "uh-oh"s begun in the watering hole.  Sheriff
Buster excused himself and started toward  the swinging doors of the
saloon.  He lifted up one foot to kick the doors open, but Gummy Joe, the
self-appointed doorman, thoughtfully swung open the door for him just as
he kicked at it.  Buster, not expecting the door not to be there when he
kicked at it, lost his footing and slipped down to the floor with a *whump*.
The sheriff unceremoniously pushed himself up and continued out to the street.
     Gummy Joe observed "that Sheriff in a heap o' trouble now!"
********

     It took Buster a couple of minutes to catch up with Miss Babs, as she
was sprinting back to her house.  Miss Babs, had she not been wearing her
hoop skirt, would have no trouble outrunning Sheriff Buster, but the skirt
slowed her down just enough that Buster caught up with her on the stoop of
her house.
     Buster put a gloved hand on her shoulder, caught her, and spun her
around.  Miss Babs was so upset she was wiping her crystal blue, persuasive
eyes with a chiffon handkerchief.  "Miss Babs," he told her as he held her by
the shoulders with both his arms, "I want you to listen to me..."
     "NO!" she snapped at him, "this time I want YOU to listen to ME!"
The sheriff kept his trap shut; if she wanted to talk, he knew enough to
listen.  "Why are you doing such a dang foolish thing by challenging The
Spider to a showdown?!  You're going to end up just like all the other
sheriffs we've ever had in this town!!
     She wiped her dripping eyes with her handkerchief, then blew her nose
hard.  Really hard.  A honk, louder than any of those newfangled horseless
carriages could make could be heard up and down Main Street.
     Trying to calm herself, she took a deep breath.  "I want to tell you
something, Buster," she said in a hushed, weak voice, "ever since last
week, when you rode into town, I've had my eye on you.  I thought...I
thought, even though you were a stranger, you were different.  You didn't
have to fight every battle.  I thought you could walk away from them and
not worry about your foolish pride.  Now...now I'm scared."
     "Aw, Miss Babs, you don't need to be scared."
     "You don't understand," she answered, "my papa was the sheriff in
this town not long ago, but The Spider ran him out with his tail between
his legs.  I already lost him, Buster, and I don't want to lose you, too."
She spoke not another word, but went into her house, sobbing, and shut the
door behind her.  She left Buster there, alone, standing on the stoop.  He
peered at the door, an almost guilty look on his face.
     "Miss Babs," he said out loud, although no one was around to hear
him, "I promise I'll be careful.  You won't lose me tomorrow."  With that,
he pushed his hat far back on his forehead and strode slowly home.
********

     It was eleven o'clock that night, and Miss Babs couldn't sleep.
She'd been in bed for over an hour now, and had been wide awake the whole
time.  Her thoughts kept returning to Buster.
     She cursed herself for letting that blue ball of trouble steal her
heart from her.  She loved him.  And now, she had to face the possibility,
the probability, that she would lose him.
     Babs threw the covers off her.  It was pointless trying to sleep, she
decided.  Throwing on an old, tattered dress, she went downstairs and out
her front door.  She never thought she'd actually go to do what she was
about to do, but right now, logic evaded her.  If there was a possibility
of her knowing, she'd do whatever it took.
     A cold wind met her as she opened her front door.  It wasn't terribly
strong, but it was enough to get her attention.  She bundled herself up in
a shawl she had thrown around her shoulders and shut the door.  She crept
down the street, almost to the other end of town, to the eeriest house on
this side of the Mississippi River.  The lights were off, but that was
meaningless.  The owner was doubtlessly still awake.
     She curled up her hand into a fist and was about to knock on the
door, when she heard a "come in, Miss Babs" from inside.  She sighed to
herself.  She should have known that owner would know someone was at the
door.
     Babs let herself into a dark living room.  Dark, except for one
orange flickering candle and burning thatch of incense, whose spicy aroma
filled the entire house.  The only other light in the room was coming from
a glowing orb of glass, one that was hovering  and floating around the
room.
     Sitting on a pillow in the middle of the furniture-less living room
was the town looney, appropriately enough known as Miss Loon.  She was
sitting, legs folded together like a pretzel, with her arms straight out
on either side of her body, chanting "ohwhatalooniam, ohwhatalooniam."
The irony of the chant was not lost on Babs.
     "Miss Loon?" Babs asked reticently, "are you alright?  You look
so...hypnotize and uncomfortable."
     Miss Loon opened her eyes.  "Oh, like, I'm totally awesome!" she
answered enthusiastically.  "This is known as the Lotus position, it
allows you to find your spiritual center.  The Hindus, like totally use to
it to, like, be one with their cosmic universal force, or some junk."
     "Oh," answered Miss Babs, not understanding a word that was said.
"Sounds...interesting."
     "So, like, what can I do for you, Miss Babs?"
     Babs had herself a seat on one of the many throw pillows on the
floor.  "Um, it's kinda hard to explain.  I'm sure you've heard of the big
showdown Sheriff Buster is having tomorrow."
     "Like, have I ever!" Miss Loon told her.  "That's, like, what all the
spirits on the celestial plane are talking about!"
     "Yeah.  Anyway, I was wondering, since you seem to know so much about
supernatural stuff, is there anyway you could see into the future and tell
me who is going to win tomorrow?"
     Miss Loon pursed her lips together and made a raspberry-esque sound
with her mouth, at the same time waving her hand at Babs in a gesture
which said "get right on out of the cosmos".  "Like, that's no problem at
all!  Here," she said, holding out her hands, which Babs took.  "Now,
think about Sheriff Buster, 'kay?  Concentrate on him as hard as you can.
Now close your eyes."  Babs did everything she was told.
     Almost instantaneously, a vision appeared to Miss Loon.  "Wait.
Something's coming to me," she announced.  "Wow!  That, like, totally
didn't take long at all, or some junk."  She silenced herself for a
moment, then continued.  "I see, I see someone...running out of town..."
     Babs held her breath.
     "...with their tail between their legs," she finished.
     Immediately, Babs opened her eyes and let go of Shirley's hands.
Shirley lost her psychic connection, and the vision faded away as quickly
as it had appeared to her.
     Babs was mortified.  She couldn't think.  She couldn't speak.
     "Sorry," Miss Loon told her.  "That's all I can tell you."  She
thought for a minute.  "Y'know, though, it was like totally weird.  I've
NEVER had a vision come to me that fast or that strong before.  It was
like--"  Miss Loon cut herself off, answering her own unspoken question.
"You really love him, don't you?"
     "More than you know," Miss Babs answered her.
     "Hm.  Like, maybe even more than YOU know."
     Babs collected her thoughts, as well as the pieces of her soul that
were torn when she heard the news.  She slowly, with as much dignity as
she could muster, got up off the pillow and started toward the door,
stopping for a moment and turning around.  "Oh," she started, "I almost
forgot.  How much...?"
     Miss Loon interrupted her.  "Like, this one's on me."
     Babs smiled at her, weakly, and started on her way back home.
********

     Buster tried to keep busy all day.  First thing he'd done when he got
up that morning was practicing his quick-draw moves.  He was pretty fast,
he thought.  His biggest problem was probably that all he had in his
holsters were two fine, California-grown carrots.  He gnawed on the one in
his right holster, saving his trusty lefty carrot for when he really
needed it.
     After his exercises, Buster went into McLittlehale's General Store
and sampled some of his marshmallows and pickles.  Buster had had the
munchies ever since last night.
     He took a short nap after his meal at the General store, then spent a
couple of hours just thinking to himself.  The whole time he was thinking
though, he tried to keep one thing out of his mind.  Miss Babs.
     And he was failing miserably.
********

     The clock struck four.  It would only be one more hour.
     She'd already decided she was not going to watch Buster's disgrace.
She couldn't bring herself to do it.  Not only that, she was mad at him.
She was mad because he couldn't put his own foolish pride on the shelf and
ignore The Spider.  He could just take off that ridiculous five-pointed symbol
of arrogance from his vest, and let nature take its course between them.
     And she sure as heck wasn't going to say goodbye.  She'd done that
before.  She wasn't going to let it happen again.
********

     4:45.  In fifteen mintues, the world was going to find out what Sheriff
Buster was really made of.  Buster was a little anxious to find out himself.
 These were the time that tried men's souls...or women's...or rabbit's.
     If only he could stop thinking about Miss Babs.  Buster gritted his
teeth together.  Maybe, just maybe, she was right.  Maybe he DIDN'T have
to do this.  Maybe he could just walk away...no, of course he couldn't
walk away. Grrr.  Buster sat down on heavily on his bed, his chin affixed to his
balled-up hands, his elbows resting heavily in his lap.  There must be
something he COULD do.
     Suddenly, his head shot up from its postion.  His eyes widened, and
his exterior vision blurred.  His mind's eye was showing him something,
something he hadn't thought of.
********

     Plucky Duck, jack of all trades and master of none, cried out the
words "popcorn, peanuts, cracker jacks!"  His cry brought out more than a
few responses from the gunfighting fanatics that lined both sides of the
Main Street sidewalk.  Plucky tossed them little packages of whatever they
wanted from off his wooden tray of goodies.  Gunfights were always good
for business.
     A bell in the steeple of a church resounded loudly and lowly.
Through the doors stepped Mayor Pig, bedecked in his finest business suit
and wide, striped tie.  He'd even put on his newest silk sash just for the
occassion.  He was worried, though.  "Going through a dozen sheriffs in as
many weeks is bad for my popularity polls.  Sheriff Buster's my last hope
of re-election!" he said to himself while twiddling his fingers.  A bead
of clear persperation trickled down his twisted forehead.
     Plucky stepped out to the street.  He looked at his gold pocketwatch.
5:00 and all was well...for his bank account.  He cleared his throat, then
bellowed to the throngs:
     "It's five o'clock!  Are you ready to rumble?!"
     A maddened cheer arose from the townspeople.
     "Ladies and Gentlemen, the following showdown will be a fight to the
finish.  One of these two contestants will be cast out of town before the
sun sets."  Plucky flourished toward the north side of the street.  "On
one side, the champion, the one outlaw who has singlehandedly, er, I mean
hexhandedly rid this town of every sheriff it has ever known: The Spider!"
     All as one, the townspeople turned their attention over to him.
There he was.  He looked almost six inches tall today.  His ever-present
splinter twisted around in his drawn-in mouth.  He had an aura of silent
confidence emanating around him.
     His bandana was as grimy as the dirt he stood in; as grimy as his
spurs were polished.  He stood motionless, save for the splinter pacing in
his mouth.  No one could help but be taken aback by the sight.
     The silence was only broken by Plucky's further bellowing: "Bets are
still being taken at the saloon.  Seven to one odds on The Spider.  And in
this side of the street...," started Plucky as he pivoted on his webbed
toes and turned his torso toward the opposite end of town.  He was
unprepared for what he saw there.  "Um," he stuttered,  "in this side of
the street..."
     The crowd collectively peeled their eyes away from The Spider and
turned toward the south end of Main Street.  The EMPTY south end.
Murmuring began immediately.
     Mayor Pig turned tail and ran over toward Plucky.  "Where IS he?" the
Mayor demanded.
     "Couldn't tell ya'," Plucky said, shrugging his shoulders.  "Hey!",
shrieked the duck in answer to a question he heard within the crowd, "just
because he doesn't show up doesn't mean I give out refunds for the
popcorn!"
     An intense pounding befell upon Miss Babs's door.  She knew what time
it was, and she didn't want to go out and see the fight, she thought to
herself as she sighed.
     She was seated in a living room chair, reading  Uncle Tom's Cabin,
and she sure didn't want to be disturbed.  She wasn't even going to answer
the door until she heard Miss Loon's voice out on the porch.
     "Miss Babs," the voice yelled, "Sheriff Buster's totally not showing
up for the showdown!"
     Miss Babs's ears perked up.  "What?"  She couldn't hardly believe
what she'd just heard.  Putting her book down, she ran to the door and
flung it open.  Standing in the doorway was Miss Loon, pointing down the
street and grabbing at Miss Babs's hand.  "Come see for yourself!"
     Stepping onto the stoop, Miss Babs peered down the street.  Sure
enough, there was no sign of Buster.  Her heart was filled with complete
joy!  Maybe he'd listened to her!  Maybe he was on his way to her house to
tell her that he was wrong and that he didn't care about whether or not he
looked like a coward!
     Down the street, a quiet yell could be heard.  "Wait!  Wait up, I'm
coming!"  The crowd quieted until nothing could be heard...except the
sound of a shattering heart.
********

     Sheriff Buster stepped out of his house, carrying a large, wooden
crate in his arms.  The Sheriff stepped into the middle of the street, and
put the box down.  "I'm here!" he said triumphantly.
     Plucky zipped over to the rabbit and whispered in his ear: "what are
you trying to do, gimme a heart attack?!  I've got fifty bucks on this
showdown, ya' know!"
     Sheriff Buster looked amazed.  "You put fifty bucks on ME?"
     "Yeah, right," Plucky said sarcastically.  "I put fifty bucks on the
bug.  He runs you outta town, and I hit the jackpot, but the bet would be
voided if you didn't show up!"
     Plucky went over to the sunny side of the street and had a seat on
the wooden sidewalk.  He rubbed his hands together greedily and smiled a
Beelzebub-esque grin.  "Ohboyohboyohboy," quipped the duck to himself.
     "Well, well, well," a high, squeaky voice called toward Sheriff
Buster on the other side of the street, which seemed to be ten miles long,
"so you finally decided to show up!"
     Buster clapped the dirt off his hands triumphantly.  "Of course I
came!  Do you think I'd miss something like this, shorty?"
     The crowd, and The Spider himself, gasped.  No one had ever before
dared to taunt The Spider like that.  The Spider crossed his arms three
times in indignation.  "You're talkin' mighty big today, Sheriff!" he
countered to his rival.  "So tell me, what you got in the box?"
********

      From her porch, Babs and Miss Loon were watching the afternoon's
events unfold.  Babs, though, had seen enough.  She covered her eyes with
her hands and told Miss Loon that she was going back in.  Miss Loon
grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.  "You, like, totally can't go
back in now, Miss Babs!" she pleaded, "Sheriff Buster needs you!"
     "I-I can't do it, Miss Loon.  I can't watch him.  I already know
what's going to happen, and so do you!"
     "And that's WHY he needs you, Miss Babs," argued Miss Loon.  "If you
love someone, you have to take them for who they are, even if they aren't
perfect.  If they love you, they'll, like, totally try to change into what
you want them to be!"
     Miss Babs started back in again...then bit her lip.  "Miss Loon,
you're right!  I love Buster, and I'm not going to turn my back on him
when he needs me the most!"  Miss Babs, along with Miss Loon, sat down on
her swining porch seat.  She leaned over and put her elbows along the
bannisters of the stoop and sighed heavily.  "Love SUCKS," she mumbled.
     "You bet it does!"
********

     The ball was clearly in Buster's court now.  It was time to serve it back.
     He reached slowly into the wooden crate and removed something.  The
Spider had to squint to see what it was.  It looked like...a chocolate
birthday cake?
     "Happy birthday, Mr. Spider," shouted Buster as he took a step
forward with the cake.  
     It was indeed a chocolate frosted cake, The Spider's favorite kind.
It had several lit candles on it, and looked moist and delicious as any
cake he'd ever seen.  His eyes glazed over with teardrops.  "You, you
remembered my birthday?"
     "Of course," said Buster, "who could forget your birthday?"  Buster
placed the cake at the spider's feet, then reached into his pocket and
removed a small pan whistle.  He tooted one single note, and the whole
town began singing.

     HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!
     HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!
     HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR SPIDER!
     HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

     The Spider swiped a tear from his eyes.  "This is the best dang
birthday I've ever had!"
     Buster produced something from his vest pocket.  "I got a little
something for you, too," Buster told him, all smiles.  It was a newspaper.
"This paper was published on the day you were born!" Buster told him, and
now, I'm going to give it to you!"
     The Spider was almost overcome by emotion...until it dawned on him
that today was NOT his birthday!  "Hey!", The Spider complained "it ain't
my birthday!"
     "Sure it is," said Buster with a mischevious grin, "now here's your
paper!"  Buster quickly folded it up lengthwise into a baseball bat shape,
and let The Spider have it.  *WHAP!*  The sound rung out all over town as
Buster brought the paper down smack on top of The Spider's head.
     The Spider stumbled around aimlessly in the dirt, dazed by the sting
of the newspaper crashing onto him.  "Ooh, that kinda hurt," he remarked.
     "And what kind of birthday party would this be without some PARTY
GAMES?!" asked Buster, as he reached into his pocket yet again.  "How
about a game of..." he started, just before yanking a long strip of brown
felt cloth with an ominously pointed tack attached to one end,  "...PIN
THE TAIL ON THE DONKEY!  I'll go first!"
     Babs could not believe what was happening, although she was
witnessing it with her own eyes.  "He-he's WINNING!" Babs shouted at Miss
Loon.  "I thought you said he was going to be run out of town with his
tail between his legs!"
     "Well, no," Miss Loon answered her, embarrassed.  "I said SOMEONE was
going to run out of town with a tail between their legs.  I didn't see who it was."
     A yelp, like a coyote howling at the moon, resonated all throughout
town.  Soon, the echoing sound was all that remained of The Spider in this
lawless western town.  He left in a huff, trying to remove his newfound
tail from his rear end.
********

     Buster's victory party began almost instantaneously.  The gladdened
citizens rushed over to Buster with the intensity of a crashing wave onto
the shore.  Buster was held high in the air, on the shoulders of the
crowd, as a way of saying thanks.
     After a victory lap around town, the crowd put Buster down in front
of the Mayor, who was standing in front of City Hall, hands on his jacket
lapels, bursting with pride.   He announced triumphantly:
     "Buster, this town owes you a great debt.  You have rid it of the two
most dispicable villains in the old west!  From now on, this city will be
safe, thanks to our new Sheriff-For-Life: Buster Bunny!"
     A roar arose from the crowd.  Hats littered the air as the multitude
tossed them up toward space in victory.  They fell back to earth like rain.
     Buster cleared his throat.  "I want to thank the Mayor for giving me
this honor to be Sheriff for the rest of my life...but I can't accept it."
The crowd gasped in horror.
     "What?" asked Mayor Pig.  "Why can't you accept it?"
     "Because, Mr. Mayor," started Buster, "I've found something else.
Something else that's more important to me than a star.  I've found love,
only I didn't realize it until it was almost too late."  Buster unpinned
the Sheriff's badge from his chest, and placed it with care into the
Mayor's short, stocky, outstretched fingers. 
     No sooner had he given the star back to the Mayor, than Miss Bunny
broke through the crowd, straight toward him, and tackled him to the
ground with a suffocating hug.  "Buster!  I knew it!  I knew you'd do the
right thing!"
     Buster sat up, gazed straight into Babs's eyes and said "I love you,
Miss Bunny."
     "I love you too, Buster."
     "Come on, let's blow this popsicle stand."
     The two of them jumped on a nearby horse, drinking its fill at a
watering trough.  With one crack of the reigns, the philly took off,
carrying the newfound lovers off into the orange and red hue of the slowly
setting sun.

THE END
********

Epilogue

     Plucky ripped off his shirt and bandana, while next to him, Hamton
undid his tie.  "Great flick, huh Ham?" queried the little green duck.
     "You bet!" answered Hamton.
     "I especially thought MY character stole the show!" Plucky announced
modestly.
     Plucky already saw Shirley go back into the dressing room.  He'd
tried to follow her in, asking her if she needed any help getting out of
her costume, and received a slammed door in his face as an answer.  For
the life of him, though, he couldn't figure out where Buster and Babs had
went.  There was a cast party over at Weenie Burgers in twenty minutes.
And, after all, despite who Plucky first thought should be cast in the
lead role, it WAS their final exam production.
     Just as Plucky was about to ask Hamton where they were, Shirley emerged
from her dressing room.  "Hey, have you seen those two scene-hogging rabbits?"
Plucky asked her.  "Were they in the dressing room?"
     "No," she answered, "I like totally thought they were out here with
you two, or some junk."
     Just as they were about to go look for them, Plucky, Hamton and
Shirley saw the two rabbits coming toward them from a hallway.  They were
both walking with noticeable tenderness in the lower body.
     "Hiya', guys," Babs called to them.
     Plucky chuckled at them as they came over.  "Heh heh.  I see you're a
little sore from riding that horse, eh?"
     Buster and Babs looked at one another nervously.  "Um," they both
began.  As they stared at one another, a sort of unspoken agreement about
something struck them.  "Uh...yeah!" they answered.
     "THAT'S what the stiffness is from!"
     "Of COURSE!  Why didn't we think of it before?"
     They giggled for an instant, then looked at the crowd of their
friends, plain-faced for a moment.
     "Well, what are we waiting for?" challenged Buster.  "We've got a
cast party to go to!"  The two rabbits walked off down the hall while
their friends watched in amazement.  Buster and Babs whispered to
themselves for an instant, then wheeled around suspiciously toward their
friends, who all stared straight at them with wide-opened jaws.
     "D'ya' think they bought it?" Buster whispered to Babs.
*********

THE VERY, VERY, VERY END

Thanks for readin'!  Any and all comments are greatly appreciated, just
gimmie a holler at:

mcote@nmsu.edu

"Aloooo-ha!"