AUTHOR'S NOTES: All copyrighted characters are registered trademarks of their creators.



Daffy Duck smacked his palm against his feathered forehead in impatient disgust. What did it take to get a trigger-happy hunter to shoot a lousy rabbit without it breaking into a game of Twenty Questions? Although Daffy knew the best way to avoid personal harm was to keep from getting directly involved, he sprang from the bushes in which he was hiding and stormed over to the animated conversation between predator and prey.

Today's conversation was as fanciful as any other. Poor old Elmer Fudd was swallowing Bugs Bunny's latest fabrication hook, line and sinker. "Gowwy, Mr. Wabbit." He insisted, nervously cradling his rifle in his arms. "I never heard about this new wule."

"You haven't, eh?" Bugs replied in full confidence mode. "Well, it's a good thing you're hearing this from me and not the game warden, doc. The last thing we want is for you to end up in the slammer for poaching, or worse, get your license taken away."

"Good gwacious, no!" Elmer shuddered, clutching his gun even tighter like a child clinging to his mother. By this point Daffy was standing behind Elmer, breathing furiously and glaring daggers into the amused rabbit's face.

"So, here's the situation, doc." Bugs explained. "All animals that you're allowed to shoot have a pattern on 'em that you can only see under black light." He stopped to flash a curt grin at a fuming Daffy, whose forehead was now noticeably throbbing. The rabbit reached into his burrow and conveniently produced just such a blacklight. He shone it on his own belly. "See, doc? No pattern!"

"Well, I'll be!" Elmer shrugged. "Isn't that intewesting?"

"Now aren't you glad you bothered listening to me before you started shootin' away? What would you be saying to the judge right now?" Bugs asked.

Daffy's rage hit the boiling point. "Just a stir-fried minute there, buster!" he shouted, drawing the attention of both hunter and hunted. "That has got to be the biggest crock of shameless prevarication I've ever heard, even from you! There's not a word of truth to that stupid blacklight story!"

"Really, doc?" Bugs asked, casually angling the blacklight to shine on Daffy's chest. "Do tell. Do tell."

"And another thing!" Daffy continued. "If you think that I..." he suddenly noticed that both Elmer and Bugs were staring at his chest. "I... I..." he looked down and saw that there was a very obvious target on his chest, revealed by the blacklight. "I...eeeeghh... I-eeee... ehhhhh..."

Too late, Daffy realized that the rabbit must have had ACME Ultraviolet Paint on his gloves during their poking argument from earlier on, which was the third incident which ended with Daffy spitting out buckshot that day.

"So... what say we forget this whole thing ever happened?" Daffy simpered, flashing his million-dollar smile. A blast of gunfire blowing the topknot of feathers clean off his head was a very eloquent answer. "YAAAAAAGH!" the duck shrieked, running off in a blind panic.

"Hey, you cwazy duck! Come back here!" Elmer yelled, joining the chase.

Bugs nonchalantly shifted on his heels and batted his eyebrows at the audience. "Y'know, sometimes I almost feel sorry for that nutty duck."

Said nutty duck was currently running like a bat out of you-know-where, Elmer's gunfire barely missing him with each shot. Daffy frantically looked over his shoulder and saw the determined hunter right behind him. But... what was this? Elmer had stopped! Daffy was soon outdistancing the hunter greatly. "Ha ha!" he cheered. "Looks like old Fuddsy knows who's the top bird around here! The prey defeats the predator! Natural selection wins out again! The..."

It was then that he glanced down and realized that the reason Elmer had stopped was because Daffy had ran clean over the edge of a cliff, and he didn't wish to follow suit. "...Mother!" Daffy whimpered just before his ten-story plunge into the raging river below.

After an indeterminate amount of time, the churning rapids finally deposited Daffy to the safety of shore. The duck groggily got to his feet, stopping only to disdainfully spit out the flopping catfish that had lodged itself in his beak. Daffy stormed back to his house, his thoughts as black as his feathers. Slamming the door behind him, his burning eyes turned to a photograph on the mantelpiece. It depicted Daffy posing with several of his cartoon acquaintances. Daffy looked at them in turn.

Elmer Fudd, the eternal outdoorsman. Yosemite Sam, the orneriest outlaw in the west. Wile E. Coyote, the gentleman's predator. The Tasmanian Devil, the unstoppable appetite. Marvin the Martian, conqueror of worlds.

"Amateurs." Daffy spat, swatting the photograph to the floor. A lot of help those bunglers were. All of them had so often tried – and failed – to teach Bugs the lesson he so soundly deserved. It was enough to drive a duck to moult.

Daffy stooped to the floor and grumbled over the other bane of his existence – junk mail. It simply wasn't right that an international superstar such as himself was still subjected to these inane advertisements. He was all but ready to pitch the leaflets into the garbage as usual, when an unfamiliar letterhead caught his attention.

The Crossover Club is finally open for business, and will soon be the hottest spot around! All characters from cartoons, television, film, comics and online are welcome!

Looking for love? Interested in meeting new friends? Want to hire contracted killers to eliminate your enemies? Whatever you're looking for, you'll find it at the Crossover Club! We hope to see you there!

Daffy's eyes gleamed with interest. "Crossovers, huh?" he declared to himself. "I'll betcha there's a bunch of dangerous types out there much better at dealing with rabbits than these stupid cartoons."

He stood up, the advertisement clasped in one hand. "Why, only a spineless, untrustworthy back-stabber would sic these guys on poor old Bugsy!" he declared. He then made an aside to the audience. "Fortunately for me, that's exactly what I am."

He then raced out the door towards the address indicated on the leaflet. He had some business to attend to.

Next Chapter:
Rabbit's Fett