The Bet

BY : Pen-Storyteller
Category: +S through Z > Tiny Toons
Dragon prints: 3797
Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any rights to Tiny Toon Adventures or any character there of. All characters are copyrighted by their respective owners. Nor do I make any profit.




It was a day unlike any other day at ACME Looniversity.

Oh the sun was shining, and the school was bustling well enough, but there was a noticeable difference in the air. Antics were few and far between. Chases were at a stand-still. Then there was the lack of calamity (the event, not the coyote). Everyone it seemed taking it slow; going through the motions of acting out their routines, but lacking any the usual energy. Even the faculty was not immune to this unusual listlessness.

This was not without good reason.

After the previous night’s prom related escapades, the school’s student body (to say nothing of the bodies of the students) was still very much in recovery. But what a night it was; one the toonsters would remember for a life-time. Even Montana Max got into the spirit of things— with Elmyra Duff no less. The same was true for the faculty. Having been tasked with the overseeing, damage control, and clean-up of said prom and the shenanigans that came with it; they were just as, if not more exhausted than the students.

Everyone from student to principal had a story or three to tell, and most of those stories were told during lunch break.


This lunch period found one Barbara-Ann Bunny —Babs to her friends— waiting.

With barely a wink of sleep to her name, she was tired, sore, and aching in places one could not name in polite conversation. Such was the price the pink rabbit paid for the most wonderful and physically exhausting night of her young life. Thankfully, her current fatigue was nothing a hunk (or two) of carrot cake wouldn’t perk her out of.

“Now if only they’d show up already.” she muttered. Her voice scarcely louder than the grumbling growls of her stomach. The untouched three-layered, strawberry-topped carrot cake was calling to her from her open lunch-box. It taunted her, daring her to indulge herself in its delicious charms. Then, just as she was just about to give the bird to protocol and begin her feast, a familiar voice called through the bustle of the crowd…

“Hey Babs!” the  voice said.

Babs turned and with a a beaming smile, waved to the blonde, white, duck the voice belonged to. “Hey Shirl! Took you long enou—are you limping?” Babs said, noting her friend’s awkward hobble.

Shirley shook her head. “You, like, don’t want know, trust me.” she said as she gingerly made her closer.

Babs, never one  to miss a setup for an impersonation, immediately twirled herself into the likeness of Ricki Lake, “Oh but I do, I do.” she said, then it was back to normal. “I know how you feel Shirl.” she added, pointing to the ice-pack she was sitting on.

Shirley eyed the ice-pack with envy before looking adjacent spot on the hard,  wooden bench. “Like, You wouldn’t happen to have—?” she asked.

“—A spare? I do indeed” Babs replied, a knowing smile crossing her face as she handed an ice pack to her feathered friend. “Looks like we both got some stories to tell.”

“Like, totally.”

Babs propped her elbows on the table and regarded Shirley as she set her chin on interwoven fingers. “You know Shirl. Still not to late to back out.” she said with a smug smirk.

“Like. Wow Babs you must be desperate to try that trick.” Shirley replied.

Babs sighed. “Well then once Fifi gets here we can—” she said.

“Bonjour mes amis!” called a cheerful voice. Babs and Shirley turned with smiles to see the voice’s owner; the suspiciously energetic and ‘fashionably late’ Fifi le Fume.

 “Well someone looks like she had a good night.” Babs said.

Fifi twirled and pranced to join her friends. “Ah oui! It was tres magnifique! It was—” she said, then paused to look from Babs to Shirley. “Uh, Pardonne-moi, but why are you sitting on ze ice-packs. Is zhis, ‘ow you say, ze new fad?”

Shirley shared a sidelong look with Babs before then spoke. “It’s, like, a long story Fifi.”

“Two long stories.” Babs quickly added.

“Oh I see. You are cooling off because you ‘ad ze ‘hot time’ last night.” Fifi said with a playful titter as she seated herself.

Babs and Shirley blinked and shared another glance. Sometimes they forgot just how sharp their overly amorous friend could be. Of course this was Fifi le Fume; who in spite of her ‘odeur d'amour’,  had earned herself quite a reputation. The saying was: which base you got to depended on how long you could hold your breath. She was every boy’s catch-22.

In the days before the prom the question wasn’t ‘if’ she would have a date, but rather, ‘who’ would be brave enough ask her out. The boy that did, to everyone’s surprise, was none other than Hamton J. Pig, one of the sweetest boys at ACME Loo, and a confirmed weenie; who was voted most likely to bring his Mom as a date. He was the last person anyone expected to have the courage to ask any girl to the prom; let alone the infamous Fifi.

Seeing the radiant glow on their friend’s face, Shirley and Babs could only wonder just how far things had gone. It was a thought strong enough to distract Babs from her carrot cake or a full ten seconds. But she made up for the lost time.


Five minutes later, their lunches were duly devoured and the three assembled friends looked to each other not unlike card-sharks at a poker table. Who would be the first to give voice to the question they all shared? As if there could be any question.

“Alright girls, time to dish!” Babs said, breaking the silent stalemate.

“Like, finally. The suspense was totally going to send me into my next kharmic cycle.” said Shirley  as she levitated herself and the ice-pack upon which she sat. “Let’s go outside.”

“I agree. Zere are, ‘ow you say, too many prying ears here.” said Fifi.

“Our usual spot then?” Babs asked, turning away for just a moment to put away her lunch box. It was enough time for her pals to pull a disappearing act. The only clue was a note left on the table. It was penned in Shirley’s esoteric handwriting. John Hancock had nothing on the girl. The note read:

‘Dear Babs,
    We’re at the usual spot.
PS:    Like, Bring more ice packs.
PSS:    Hope you’re ready to lose.’

Shirley & Fifi”

Babs smiled. It was good to see Shirley so confident. Looking back,m she realized that she’d seen a new side of her feathered friend ever since…


It was Friday; the last day of another laborious school week. It was afternoon and with only two hours left before the sweet weekend release. Babs and Shirley were no exception as they indulged in idle chatter. Naturally that idle chatter centred around the prom.

“The stories after this Prom are going to be the juiciest ever!” Babs said, her voice bubbling with excitement.

“I know, right!”” said Shirley, who was herself uncharacteristically enthusiastic. “You going with Buster?” she asked.

To which Babs happily replied, “You going with Plucky?”

Both nodded and shared a knowing smile. There was no question who Babs was going with, but Shirley actually had a choice to make. Granted, her choices were between an egotistical green duck and a rooster who could swear fluently in three different languages. However when it came to their mutual friend—things were not so simple.

“Any word in ye olde crystal ball who’s going to ask Fifi?” Babs asked.

“Babs!” Shirley gasped, “I would, like, never use my powers for something so totally childish, and trivial, and—”

“—it blew up didn’t it?”

“Like a mexican firecracker.”

“Ah well. No matter who it is she’ll likely have a story not fit for innocent and fragile minds of our age.”

Both girls looked at each other for a silent five-count before they keeled over with laugher.

“Like, that’s fer sure. Can’t blame her though.” said Shirley, as she picked herself off the ground.

“Say Shirl,” Babs switched to the ever popular ‘Dirty Harry’ impersonation, “you feelin’ lucky, Duck?”

“You name it and I’m game for it.”

Babs shut her locker. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking. We both know Fifi’s going to have the steamiest ‘who I did after Prom night’ story’. Right?” she said.

Shirley nodded, “No question there.” already guessing where Babs was going.

“So how about a little wager between the two of us. Who ever comes the closest to Fifi in terms of Awesome post Prom Dance activities wins.” said Babs.

“You’re on Rabbit!” Shirley replied. It was not the sort of thing she usually went for, but she could not pass up the golden opportunity. What better way to get Babs to stop going on about rabbits and their procreative reputations.

So, they shook on the bet and pinky-swore each other to secrecy.


A five minute walk from the school building was the main fountain and two minutes from there was a white wooden bench where Fifi and Shirley were waiting patiently. Fifi was sitting quite comfortably; Shirley too, albeit upon an ice-pack. Babs joined them with  bright smile and self-assured glance toward to Shirley.

“Alright then ladies let the saucy stories-Hang on a moment…” Babs said as she pointedly scratched behind her ears.

Fifi and Shirley knew the signal and quickly donned their ear-muffs and ear plugs. Babs did likewise before producing two industrial air-horns from her pockets.

“Well, after Buster and me left the prom we—” Babs began before, letting loose with both air horns with an ear-shattering.


The sound was enough to shake a few leaves from the they were under, along with one Calamity Coyote. Dizzy Devil, stumbled from the near by bush a few moments later clutching his head. Montana Max was the last eavesdropper to show himself as he stepped from behind the tree, equipped with what was apparently a state of the art and very expensive listening device.

“OW! MY EARS! I’LL SUE! I’LL-” Max screamed, his tirade cut short by the withering glare of the three girls standing before him.

Arms folded, brows furrowed and lips pulled into sneering grins, each girl pondered an appropriate fate for these trespassers. This deliberation did not last more than a few seconds.

“Care to do the honors Fifi?” said Babs with a gracious bow to her lavender furred friend.

“Weeth pleasure.” replied Fifi as she clutched her luxuriantly fluffy tail in the manner of a rifle; her sights levelled squarely on the three interlopers.

“N-Now hold on there. C-Can’t we talk this out? With money?” Max said.

On any other day Babs might have stepped in to negotiate an ‘amicable settlement’, but not today. She had to admit the “I regret everything.” sign Calamity held up was cute, but there would be no mercy. Fifi fired without remorse and when the noxious fumes cleared there were three stone-petrified boys. Shirley disposed of the casualties with a little telekinetic toss. They’d be fine in an hour or so. Plenty of time time conclude their own business.

“Okay back to business Girls,” said Babs, “Who wants to go-”

“—Last!” said Fifi.

“—Second!” said Shirley

Babs smiled. “Guess I’m setting the bar.” she said.

The order suited Babs just fine. It was better if Fifi went last, since both she and Shirley agreed that topping Fifi’s story would take an act of Spielbergian intervention, and given the radiant demeanour of the purple skunk, perhaps not even that. When it came to each other however, that was a different story. Babs, by her own reasoning, had the natural advantage over Shirley; she and Buster were both rabbits after all, and there were legends written about lapin sexual antics. No one ever said ‘screw like ducks’. This contest was her’s to win.

Shirley too saw order as working her advantage. She relished the idea of letting Babs set the pace only be throughly surpassed.  After all, she was a duck. Rabbits were fast and frequent, no one said they were good at at it. Shirley didn’t need a tarot card to know she would win this.

Fifi in contrast was simply on pins and needles to hear what her two best friends had been up to that night. It would be great if they’d enjoyed the same wonderful experience she’d had.

And so, after settling her cottontail on a comfortably cool ice pack, Babs began her story.

“My story begins after we left the prom…” she said.


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