Animaniacs of Freedom Two

Written by Galactic William of Big Bang 1 (William V Black)

Animaniacs © Warner Brothers Studios, “The Great Universe War series” © Big Bang Industries

Big Bang Industries story: FA02

Starring:

The Warner Brothers and Sister

Pinky and the Brain

Dr. Scratchansniff

Hello Nurse

Mr. Plotz

Slappy and Skippy

Buttons and Mindy

Minerva Mink

(Other Animaniacs characters are to make their appearances just as in Animaniacs of Freedom Two – Part One)

The Nelson Brothers

Lena Galaxy

Admiral Quasar of Big Bang 1

Processor 0.9

Supreme Commander Niv

(More characters from Big Bang Industries might make their appearances)

Galactic William of Big Bang 1 as himself (sorry, another narrator has been hired to cover this position for some chapters!)

…and the Reading and Northern Railroad’s 425 as the Victoria Central Railway’s 2500

*This story continues from where Animaniacs of Freedom Two – Part One leaves off*

Chapter One: Six Months Afterward

On that terrible day of the ice hurricane, the Animaniacs and Big Bang Industries group rushed to save their hides from permanently freezing to the troublesome mountain range, and selected a rather unexpected piece of shelter. Along the railroad line that proudly supported the 2500 along, there stood a small, eroded depot that easily fit everyone inside without much effort.

While small along its rooting exterior, the interior of that depot was much more extraordinary, it was a complete inverse of the exterior. It was rather large for a countryside station and vastly empty, with the exception of a few supports keeping a surprisingly well maintained roof from collapsing inward. Two opposing corners were occupied by potbelly stoves with rusting smokestacks leading upward and through the roof. Sitting beside both stoves were large, dusty piles of high quality coal, both of which were joined by black iron shovels.

Though at first it had appeared empty, a door leading into a second room had a more diverging story to tell. From the rooting door to an unseen wall, there were piles of chairs, rugs, tables, desks, ancient telephones and telegrams, and even a grand piano, all of which were covered in thick layers of dust and cobwebs.

“Someone call the housemaid!” Yakko remarked as he pulled out an old telephone. Though it wasn’t worth considering a joke, the Warner boy couldn’t help but grin broadly and foolishly.

Unlike modern telephones hosting labeled dials and switches, it was truly an artifact of time, being a telephone that required an operator on the other end of a communications line. Its speaker had been cracked after years of sitting around in open air. Along its entire main frame, paint chipped away with ease; it didn’t require much effort to force even a large portion of its magnificent golden coating off. The receiver and its cord were in complete despair, the wire torn in random spots and the receiver had been cut open, left with no electronic gear.

Foreseeing no purpose in such a poorly kept telephone, Yakko threw it aside before digging his way further in the storage room. Soaring on high, the phone began to plummet earthward, colliding onto the depot floor with a mighty thump. Having to land so roughly against the floor, there soon came a rain of metal parts and wires; the ancient telephone was no more. Cramming in further through piles of dust covered junk, he had been joined by his younger siblings who were just as curious as to what they were going to find.

While missed by a mere two centimeters or so, Quasar could only stare down at the destroyed telephone. Sure it wouldn’t have come into beneficial use yet, but it could have been to superb use in a distant future – when advanced communications and vast settlement could once again occupy most of Freedom Two’s surface. Still, it was worth something to him, being a soul who couldn’t resist accumulating antique objects for personal keeps.

He stooped down to gather every broken bit of that phone, only to be interrupted by a sudden collision between his head and a flying object. A metallic object, most certainly a heavy object, struck against his head with overwhelming force. He tumbled onto the floor of the depot with a terrible crash while not being noticed whatsoever.

Across the floor of the small, stable depot, not a soul could center their attention on one specific object or being. Everyone – young and old, male and female, intelligent and ignorant – randomly walked about, investigating their surrounding shelter in attempt to get comfortable with their new, temporary home.

Near one of the potbelly stoves that occupied the corners of the depot, Rita and Runt quietly sat, waiting for a warm fire to be built. While commonplace for cats to settle by warm places, it was highly unusual for dogs to follow the same example. But as Runt was mentally slow, he would follow most of Rita’s actions. They sat long against the wooden floor of their temporary home, side-by-side, and found themselves on the urge of sleeping coldly in the frigid temperatures that lurked inside the depot just similar to the outdoors.

Against a support that strongly held the ceiling aloft, Minerva leaned on her right elbow while holding her right hand behind her head and the other on one of her attractive hips. She didn’t find her new surroundings interesting enough to investigate and didn’t even have a desire to. Everything in sight – except for her friends and boy friend – appeared dull and unwelcoming. Through the entire time, she kept a wondering flirty eye on Swifty Steve the Space Snake. Not that he was attractive by his physical appearance she found his face to be an element that made up for everything.

During a long ten minutes of being looked over, Swifty didn’t know that Minerva was keeping a close watch on him. Instead of centering his weary attention on the female mink or anyone else around him, he was focused on all the supports that held up the ceiling. As he was a levitating snake who wasn’t affected too badly by gravitational forces, he needed something secure to cling to while sleeping. His unique floating capabilities were strong enough to send him toward the frigid environments of space, though he was able to control this while widely awake.

Swaying between many poles none seemed to satisfy him enough. Most turned out to have a grand level of rust that greatly developed over the course of thousands of years. He couldn’t rest against a rusted iron pole with his bare skin being vulnerable to even a slight scratch.

Climbing along a wooden pole that held up one of four walls, Pinky and the Brain were trying to find a secret location to plot for world domination, or rather to rid themselves of Quasar and the Nelson brothers. The four men who’ve been trusted for the past several days were a threat to Brain’s master plan in world conquest. Plain to see that things were terribly difficult, both mice needed to plot against the four Big Bang Industries characters with whatever they could dish up from their minds – or rather Brain’s mind.

Throughout their temporary home, not a soul recognized the idea that for an unknown time they’ll have to spend in uncertain torture with Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. However, there was one obvious exception as one soul remained stationary while hanging his head down.

To Dr. Scratchansniff, who held a near frost-bitten hand against his nose, he couldn’t conceive to stay here, not with the Warners driving everyone completely mad. Time and time again as the Warners would cause havoc and destruction in many ridiculous methods, who got all the blame for their destructive behavior? Taking all the blame every time without a choice, Scratchansniff couldn’t bare to remain there with the three annoying Warner kids.

He released his hand from under his nose before saying, “I’m doomed!”

“What?” Mr. Plotz said as he overheard Scratchansniff, “What did you just say?”

“Did I just say ‘I’m doomed’?” Scratchansniff replied, “I meant we’re all doomed!”

While silence had occupied the depot from when they arrived, with the exception of the Warner brothers and sister digging through the closet, silence still loomed within the main room, only with a physiological wave of negativity. No one could imagine how long they could remain there with those destructive kids before they’d go absolutely insane. But of those who reacted to Scratchansniff’s complaint, no reaction came from those who were not originally from Animaniacs.

Standing side-by-side, Scratchansniff and Mr. Plotz hung their heads in shame, fearing the worst was to come over an uncertain period of time. However, they were quickly interrupted by Tom Nelson and Raccoon Joe of Texas.

“Don’t let the Warners bother you,” Tom started.

“Yeah partners,” Raccoon Joe added, “We will be out of here in no time – you’ll see!”

Scratchansniff and Mr. Plotz grinned broadly, though they didn’t intend on doing so as they became extraordinarily worrisome over Raccoon Joe’s last statement. ‘We will be out of here in no time – you’ll see’, the thought radiated through their heads as though it were a herd of raccoons dancing around their seemingly imprisoned bodies – on the unexplainable side of their human minds.

Grabbing a shovel that sat against a pile of coal near Rita and Runt, Miles scooped some coal to prepare a fire within the potbelly stove. Its rusted door already hung open and Miles threw his entire load in with careless ease. Though no flames were present, he proceeded to pour some mysterious fluid onto the coal. His special liquid smelled terribly sickening that it forced Buttons, who was making absolutely sure Mindy wouldn’t get inside the stove, to run off into a third room to vomit.

Throwing aside an empty container made of biodegradable plastics, he took a loaded box of matches out from a shirt pocket. Inside, a thousand untouched matches were neatly stacked in organized towers, which had been a sign that Tom went through and arranged them.

“Tom, I see that you went through my box of matches and arranged them,” Miles calmly said over his shoulder.

“What?” Tom asked. In a central location inside the main room, he sat heavily on the floor beside an unconscious Quasar, fiddling around with some objects that remained unseen by his younger brother. “What is it Miles, I’m arranging matches.”

Miles suddenly dropped his box of matches in disbelief and turned to face his brother with anxiety steadily building within him. In all his years, he thought that his older brother had finally relieved himself from that old hobby. Arranging matches – of all the craziest things that could be done when time could have been wisely spent building up a comforting fire.

With his box of matches released from his clutch, the box fell beside his knees, the matches sprawling from his legs to open spaces under the stove.

Staring blankly in Tom’s direction, the youngest Nelson brother couldn’t even say another word. However, he finally said after hesitating, “I thought you … I better get back to building up a fire.”

“Yes I think you better have,” Tom said rudely while staring at his brother’s back. He retraced his full attention to his large pile of matches, humming some strange tune as he continued along placing matches inside another box.

Outside of the safety of the depot, the Victoria Central Railway 2500 and Processor 0.9 quietly sat in the ice hurricane, both slowly becoming buried deeply in mixed ice and snow. Even in a minimum time period of twelve minutes, Processor’s camera lens had been covered with enough snow to correctly consider him blind. As he became blinded unintentionally, he forced an automatic shutdown upon himself, knowing too well that he’ll remain buried for a long time.

As for the 2500, its warm boiler and cab kept it from becoming obscured as rapidly as the supercomputer behind its snow covered tender. Just similarly to Processor’s condition, the tender was covered so deeply in snow that its blue paint couldn’t be observed any further. The locomotive, however, would spend hours of being untouched by any freezing water, though its fires slowly began to die off.

Just as Scratchansniff and Mr. Plotz terribly feared from their deepest portions of their minds, they were trapped inside the railroad station with little food, water, and heat. Surviving on very minute servings of food, both shared common views with their fellow cast members that things have gone far enough. Six long months had slowly passed on by and all the entries to the depot were completely blockaded by a towering layer of unmovable ice and snow. Both men, as with their fellow friends from Burbank, came to realization that Quasar lead them into a death trap.

With their beliefs turning negative toward Quasar’s strategy in getting everyone to safety, no Animaniac, not even Minerva, could speak to the heroic man who saved them time and time again from hazards that were unheard of. Even if they could speak to him, it usually wound up leading to continuous attacking speeches that made him feel highly unwanted and stabbed in the back with a razor-sharp knife.

The situation grew worse as days and nights were continually growing longer and unbearable. It had gotten so bad that everyone shifted to one side of the entire depot, leaving only Quasar, Swifty Steve, and Processor 0.9, who had been brought inside after two days of being buried in snow, on a nearly naked side. There came no surprise as to why the Nelsons, Lena, and Raccoon Joe joined the angered Animaniacs, they were very fed up having to sit around and wait for the snow and ice to clear away.

Though Swifty was extremely faithful to Quasar’s ways and believes, there were times in which members of the opposing side of the depot would try everything they could to change his ways. Of those who tried day in and day out, none stayed on a consistent schedule in similarity to Minerva; she felt that the space snake would have been a grand replacement for Quasar, as her boyfriend.

With flirty eyes and a broad smile, she yelled over, “Hey Swifty, come over here and join us! I’m sure you’re pretty lonely over there with that deadbeat nerd.”

“Hell with it, bitch!” Swifty yelled back in anger, “I’m not abandoning my friend in any form or way! Quasar has never failed me in any way, and your hunting dog friend tries many times to hurt me terribly; why do I need something like that – broken limbs and ripped skin.”

“You’re such a dickhead!” Raccoon Joe shouted over to Swifty Steve in rage against his response.

In response, Swifty Steve screamed at the top of his lungs “Fuck you Raccoon Joe; fuck you all on that god damned side of this fucking depot!”

Ferociously, he hissed and spat as though he were truly a mountain lion or a tiger rather than a friendly space snake. His face backed up his argument even further as his flat teeth mysteriously transformed into hideous, razorblade like teeth that resembled perfect triangles whose angles all measured sixty degrees exactly. Across the entire surface of his eyes, there were multicolored lines that seemed to attempt to hypnotize a specific, unsuspecting mind from the now frightened crowd.

Turning away from his audience, his face had settled, just as he stared toward Quasar’s direction. The once proud and overwhelmingly strong man – who had risked his life fighting off a wingless dragon alone – sat uncomfortably adjacent to Processor 0.9, in a corner where no one could see him. In his hands, he held a shiny metal object that didn’t appear to be anything Swifty knew about. Curious by the sudden discovery, he drifted closer.

Stressed, tired, and completely shattered by losing Minerva completely, Quasar felt his life from the first moment they stepped into that depot had been a joke. There really was no reason for him to live any more. With his mysterious metallic object at hand, he raised it over his head before forcing back, toward his stomach. The sight suddenly made Swifty Steve horrified.

Taking a hard bite on Quasar’s arm, Swifty Steve had prevented something that would have made everyone on the opposing side terribly shocked. Of all the crazy, random things that could have been done, Quasar was attempting suicide with a knife.

“I’m sorry that I’m doing this Quasar,” Swifty said between his teeth, “But I can’t let you do this!”

Quasar could only grunt nastily before picking himself up and stepping in front of Processor 0.9. He then demanded, “Processor; I have two final favors to ask of you.”

“Final favors?” Processor asked in confusion.

“Yes; firstly: when Minerva’s child is born, inform him or her with whatever information they ask for. Secondly: I want you to do the extraordinary.”

“And that is?”

“Execute me!”

“WHAT?!” Processor yelled as sparks flew dangerously out from his dashboard of switches, knobs, and keys.

Pulling Swifty Steve off his arm and throwing him aside to collide with a wall, Quasar returned to his knife, cursing as he went. He knelt over, took a hold of his knife, and got ready to stab himself inhumanely. “You all desire to see me no further,” Quasar began to speak, “then I’ll see to it that I’ll fix that problem – permanently!”

Watching him raise his knife again, there was a sudden shower of disagreeing cries from a majority of the Animaniacs population. Of those who now believed in Quasar’s desire of death, Minerva quickly dashed in his direction with her arms spread forward.

“Please don’t do it!” Minerva cried as tears began pouring out from her eyes.

Though she felt her desperate cries would force him to stop attempting suicide, Quasar forced his knife into an accelerated trajectory toward his stomach. He didn’t bother to look toward his girlfriend’s direction as he lowered the sharp knife down. But just as he was about to puncture a hole into his stomach, some strange voice from out of nowhere forced him to stop.

Dropping his knife – which dropped onto the wooden floor beside his upper legs – he tried with extra effort to find out where the voice came from. While inaudible to most of the population within the depot, it seemed only audible to Quasar, Swifty Steve, and Raccoon Joe.

“Am I the only one hearing that?” Raccoon Joe asked.

“No,” Quasar and Swifty Steve replied simultaneously.

Though he had been thrown into a wall, Swifty Steve didn’t appear to have been in any considerable pain, with a single exception of a long scratch between his eyes that slowly bleed. The scratch ran vertically with equal space between his eyes and his blood oozed down toward his mouth where it began accumulating into a small puddle.

As for whatever voice that radiated from its unknown origin, it became readily audible to the remaining population, starting with other members of Big Bang Industries before any of the Animaniacs.

“Okay, this is getting more bizarre than ever,” Lincoln said as he randomly shifted his head around. Though many years he had been told the exact opposite, he believed a ghost or spirit lurked within their depot. Even as time went along, ghosts and spirits still frightened him terribly, enough to rudely consider him the ‘Cowardly Lion of Oz’.

“What are you talking about –?” Yakko started to question. Just as he was about to continue, the strange voice from nowhere became audible to him. It was clear that something was causing that voice to radiate throughout their temporary home. “Wakko, is that something from your gag bag?”

Now as curious as ever, Wakko pulled out his brown sack and started digging into it. His first object to remove from his bag was a toilet seat. “A POTTY!!!” Wakko yelled in delight.

“This isn’t time to use the restroom Wakko,” Yakko angrily said, “Now are you going to help us dig through your bottomless gag bag or just sit around with your toilet?”

“But it’s a potty emergency!” Wakko innocently replied with large gleaming eyes.

“Fine, we’ll dig our way into your mess then,” Dot shouted as she jumped into Wakko’s bag.

Inside the gag bag, Dot threw out a horse, a 1980’s car, twelve anvils – one of which was pure gold – a diamond that had been labeled “the world’s largest diamond”, and finally before growing too fatigue, Lord Helmet from Spaceballs.

Standing on the depot floor, Lord Helmet took a quick glance around before saying, “I knew it, I’m surrounded by assholes!” However, his stay didn’t last for long as Processor shot a powerful wave of gamma radiation, sending him to an unknown galaxy where planet Spaceballs laid.

Dot threw herself out of Wakko’s bag, panting away heavily while her tongue dangled down from her mouth. She then collapsed to the floor just as the voice grew increasingly louder.

From the center of the depot, an extraordinary yellow light, brilliant like the sun itself, mysteriously glowed. It took no shape recognizable to the mortal eye and its brightness only increased when staring into its center. To the Warners, it appeared to be familiar; it must have been another special effect from 2001: A Space Odyssey. However, the voice, which outlandishly radiated from the bright light, had told the Warners and their companions differently.

Whatever that strange light meant, it wasn’t clear as to what it was and why it was there, but the Animaniacs knew it could speak or rather sing an old country tune. Exploding from the mysterious light from the center of the depot, the song “Home on the Range” with brilliance echoed throughout the entire room. The song had been accompanied by an orchestra consisting of a guitar, a harp, an accordion, and a violin, only to be joined in by other voices at the last line.

“Home – home on the range … where the deer and the antelope play … where seldom is heard … a discouraging word … and the skies are not cloudy – all day….”

Unlike any previous echo that radiated silently into the sensitive ears of Raccoon Joe and Quasar, the last bit of sound coming from the light had been loud enough to be heard from several hundred meters outside the wooden walls of the snow covered depot. Yet, not a single creature outside gave a slight care, for the depot was buried deep in snow and ice.

Within the frostbitten weather of the ice hurricane, a pack of giant, white furred canines roamed around while narrowing their eyes against the blinding snow. They crept along in search of flesh, though without much success. Hours had been spent in hopeless straight lines with blinding gusts and one-by-one there were fatalities on their desperate search. Unlike the King Spiders that gathered all their necessary winter supplies in advance, the canines were heavily dependent on any remaining creature that lingered about, gnawing at tree bark.

Now reduced to only ten helpless canines the pack couldn’t risk another fatality, nor could they stand the mysterious noise that exploded from beneath their feet. Their ears were far more sensitive than even Raccoon Joe’s ears and were capable of hearing a pin dropped from a kilometer away. The noise from under their feet, however, had become far too much to handle, thus in a mad dash the ten canines disappeared deep into the ice hurricane.

In spite of it being bizarre, there, where the light had originally glowed, stood Galactic William of Big Bang One. He stood there emotionless, face blurred, and shirt filled with sweat. Although blurred in the face, an impassive smile could be seen across his face, though his eyes didn’t agree with it. His eyes were unusually red as though he had been angered in a cartoonish way. But still, he appeared to remain emotionless.

His eyes were extremely unsettled. Every second that passed, he would shoot a glance at one confused soul within the depot before moving on to another. It seemed as though he skipped the Animaniacs and mostly centered on everyone who wasn’t an Animaniac, having been focused on the Nelsons, Lena, and Raccoon Joe for twenty seconds individually. However, he stopped as he finally reached Quasar.

With Quasar on mind, he pulled out a long sheet of paper that contained randomly written commands, similar to a Visual Basic program sheet. But unlike a program sheet, it contained more mathematical equations and bizarre random numbers that seemingly had no purpose at all. Skimming through line after line of codes containing mathematical equations and random numbers, he finally came to a stop on one particular line and raised his head.

“You were attempting to commit suicide,” Galactic William started, “know this Quasar, I will not tolerate one of my creations attempting such nonsense, especially when they were not written to ever do so.” As he spoke without much evidence of any emotion, he waved the back side of his long sheet of programming paper before Quasar’s face. “According to these codes, you’re not to ever attempt anything that could eliminate you, unless it was to safe the lives of others. It’s a wonder why I’ve never really considered taking you in for an inspection of your codes.”

“What codes?” Brain asked in annoyance. “I’ve heard codes, codes, and nothing but codes from you. What is the whole meaning of these codes?!”

“Every one of my creations was made using JavaScript, Visual Basic, C++, and other major programming languages,” Galactic William replied. “That is why I keep referring to codes….”

Hearing about the possibility for a code inspection, his face could only heat up in anger and slowly turn red as a tomato. “How would you feel if you lost something that comforted you and felt you’d never be able to get it back?” Quasar questioned. “I almost lost Minerva permanently. Seeing that she’d leave me to seek a better life, I just couldn’t go on that way.”

“That’s a poor excuse to kill oneself I may say,” Galactic William replied.

“Listen,” Quasar barked as he grabbed Galactic William by his throat, “I don’t need your bloody opinion to my attempt at suicide. Anyway we’ve been stuck in here for six frickin’ months and no one can take it anymore!”

“Yeah,” Yakko yelled as he joined in the argument, “We can’t take anymore of this!”

Tom came in and said, “Are you simply just going to let us die in here? I know that you’re able to ‘magically’ appear from one place to another.”

“ENOUGH!!!” Galactic William yelled. Vaporizing into the surrounding frigid atmosphere, he escaped from Quasar’s strong grasp before reforming while suspended in midair. “Sure I have the ability to change into energy and back, but that is only because I can not coexist with creations. No one can coexist with creations, unless if they are willing to take the form of energy altogether!

“However, there are negative aspects to living in the form of energy. Firstly, you can not interfere with most human affairs, mostly in economics and all forms of physical contact….” Though he felt the urge to continue on, he had lost a majority of his strength to continue on with describing himself. However, he came to a complete stop in his explanations for a different reason. He turned towards Minerva and finally said, “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Silence filled the entire depot. To those who knew Galactic William the best, everyone backed off, except Quasar who could only stare blankly into his eyes, panicked. Supposing his master would find out when the session occurred, Quasar felt as though he was doomed to join Niv in a world of living hell. With the thought of seeing Niv again and winding up in a terrible world unknown to the Animaniacs, he became solid as a statue.

Realizing that someone else noticed her possible pregnancy, Minerva took two small steps toward Galactic William in confusion. For six months, she remained the same as she did before her session with Quasar, even though she had been told time and time again she had symptoms of a pregnancy.

“I’m not pregnant,” she finally said.

Galactic William stared at her coldly. Then, after three and two thirds seconds, he said, “I am guessing Quasar didn’t discuss your extended pregnancy, didn’t he?” Finishing his statement, he turned back to Quasar, angry in the face.

“Wait a minute,” Slappy interrupted, “You mean to tell me we’re still going to have to suffer from hearing a crybaby in three months?”

“Not three months, but in a range of twelve to twenty-four months,” Galactic William replied, crossing his chest with both his arms.

Floating off in random directions, Galactic William began inspecting the depot at every possible angle within the confined space that was surrounded by six planes. He moved about slowly as he refused to miss the slightest detail that might have had some significant importance. As though the inspection was a stress pill to settle intolerable stress, his level of poorly concealed impatience slowly waned from existence.

No sooner had he reached a pillar that supported the ceiling above, he stretched an arm out. Though naturally a being of matter couldn’t pass through with a simple effort, the strange figure of energy managed to plow through without altering a single sample of the pillar’s mass. His ghost-like hand emerged from the opposing end. “Not here,” he said.

“What? What’s not there?” Yakko questioned.

“Don’t fool yourself Yakko,” Scratchansniff started, “He’s probably more irregular than you’ll ever be!”

“Listen here,” Galactic William yelled back, “Just because I’m searching for the only means of escape at this time with my unique characteristic of being a soul of energy – like other fan fiction writers who so chose to be a part in their stories – it doesn’t mean that I’m insane!”

Once again having to lose self control over his anger, his face and eyes went completely red, though his eyes glowed brightly. However, his eyes soon went ablaze, frightening all surrounding him.

“Never, and I mean never … ever … mess … with … a … being … of … pure … energy…!”

At the peak of his anger, a bolt of lightning came crashing through the roof of the depot and set off a vast explosion upon the floor. The bolt was unusual in color, for unlike common bolts on Earth with a color of white, it was violet. Intensive heat occupied the interior of the old depot. Where ever there were unprotected sheets of paper, all instantly went ablaze violently. Furniture and other nonmetallic items soon went aflame. Remarkably however, no soul stood inside the depot. Everyone had vanished.

Several hours later after the bizarre lightning strike, Yakko Warner woke up slowly with difficulty. His muscles, from head to toe, were undergoing inconceivable pain, though none had been torn. Pushing against the floor, he made an attempt to lift himself upright. But with his aching muscles bothering so terribly, he collapsed onto the floor. Again he tried, though unlike his previous attempt in lifting all his weight at once, he got onto a knee.

Supporting his weight on his left knee, he took his right hand and carefully touched his sore neck. With a few strokes he insured himself that not a single muscle had been torn along his neck. Though he kept himself from opening his eyes, a strange alien-like noise forced him to open them slowly. Even with minimal clearance to see through, there was only darkness in every direction.

As darkness was all he could see, he could only panic and sweat streamed along the corners of his face. In this dark environment he felt no one else was there. Isolation: that was a great fear he and his siblings had in common and he surely felt lonely there and then.

Looking off into the vast new world of darkness, Yakko yelled, “Anybody there?” Though there appeared to have been no walls, his voice echoed as though invisible walls were surrounding him.

“Hi’a bub,” a voice said from behind Yakko.

Yakko turned around quickly to find Raccoon Joe, standing upside-down. “What are you doing upside-down?”

“Hey, you and Raccoon Joe are not the only ones having an issue here,” yelled Wilford from a distance. “Everyone is having similar issues.”

Looking in Wilford’s direction, both Yakko and Raccoon Joe got a good view of the others in their own predicaments. It was a sight that appeared chaotic and irreversible. Not a single soul seemed to share a single plane of gravitational influence. As though it were a cartoon nightmare that came to life, every Animaniac and non-Animaniac stood around at different angles.

“Faboo!” Wakko yelled, “It’s a fun house!”

“If it is a fun house,” Raccoon Joe started, “I say it ain’t doin’ right, givin’ us all torture.” As he spoke, his eyes slowly became bloodshot until there was no remaining white space surrounding his pupils. Accompanying his newly decorated eyes of red, an angry frown emerged from his mouth with angry jagged teeth revealed.

From a distance, Slappy shouted, “I’ll agree with the raccoon. This isn’t funny at all!”

“What’s a matter with this place? Is this something you’re trying to pull off Squit?” angrily asked Pesto.

“No; how can I do this?”

“THAT’S IT!”

Without letting Squit a chance to reason with him, Pesto immediately started throwing an angry fist into his face several times over. As the two pigeons threw fists of furry around, a thick cloud of cartoonish white smoke surrounded them which prevented the surrounding spectators to observe their foolish battle.

Though naturally there would have been no attention given to their fight just because a majority of the attention was given to Yakko, Wakko, and Dot, the mysterious case of unorganized gravity was a much larger issue to focus heavily upon. And much to disappoint Quasar and Miles Nelson, Galactic William disappeared immediately after that strangely colored bolt of lightning struck their shelter. Staring into each others eyes worried, they believed their present location was a disguised realm of hell itself.

“Are you speculating what I’m speculating?” Quasar slowly choked.

Miles answered, “Sure, but I doubt it’s true. Honestly, take a quick glance at Raccoon Joe over there.” He pointed to Raccoon Joe with a curved finger before he continued. “If this was the fiery depths of hell then he’d be a ghost rider, riding on horseback on a horse snorting fire, trying to catch the devil’s herd of red-eyed cows.”

“Honestly,” Quasar began, “What is it about us, Galactic William, and country music lately? What, are we connected to his brain somehow?”

“Sorry Quasar, but I refuse to answer that question,” Miles answered.

“Why?”

Miles didn’t reply, but instead pointed in a direction away from the confused crowd. Just as they clearly observed back at the depot where they stayed for six long frustrating months, a yellow light brightly gleamed, only with increased brightness. It now glowed enough to compare to a typical midday sun clearly seen from Earth’s atmosphere.

However, unlike the previous encounter, there wasn’t a single sound emitting from it. Only bright bands of orange-yellow light, like solar flares, radiated outward in curls. Yet, there was one factor that kept Miles from speaking.

Saturated a brilliant band of light was a transparent hand that appeared similar to glass. Its appendages were curled up to resemble the claw of a wild animal, though it didn’t advance for an attack. Mysteriously suspended in thin, cold, moistly air, it remained perfectly motionless. Whether it was a figment of imagination from uncharted portions of thought, an actual hand, or reasonably a ghost hand, it quickly got Mindy’s undivided attention.