I was dying from a lack of non-Spanish TLTS Baffy, okay?


The nutty aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as Bugs filled his mug with the caffeinated drink.

"Looks like Spring's just around the corner." he commented, taking a sip as he looked out the kitchen window to the pale buds beginning to grow on the trees in the cul-de-sac.

Moving to the living room, Bugs settled down in the couch, but soon began fidgeting as he felt several points of disturbance from the cushions.

"Feathers?" he asked aloud with a raised eyebrow, having grabbed from underneath him a good handful of the glossy black feathers that had gone unnoticed when he sat down.

At that moment, a bleary-eyed Daffy appeared from his room. "I need you to drive me to my pilates class today," he declared as a greeting to Bugs while he yawned and stretched, not batting an eyelid towards him as he did so on his descent down the stairs.

"Uh, Daffy-" Bugs began, placing his mug on the table, but was promptly talked over as Daffy continued on his spiel upon reaching the living room.

"I know what you're going to ask: why can't I just drive myself to class?"

"I wasn't-"

"Well, yesterday I parked my parade float in front of this great new cupcake store I found-"


"-and it got towed because apparently you're supposed to pay for parking on those meter things-"


"There was no SIGN, no WARNING! How was I to know-"

"DAFFY!" Bugs yelled, fists clenched at his sides as he vied for at least partial attention from his exasperating roommate.

"What's with you?" Daffy huffed in question, his indignant expression turning to one of dismayed shock as Bugs responded wordlessly with a raised fist full of feathers.

"My FEATHERS!" he cried, running to the nearest mirror to check how many he'd evidently lost over the past few days. Upon closer inspection, to his chagrin Daffy had lost several layers of feathers in patches on his left arm and side.

"This is terrible!" Daffy cried, clutching his head in his hands as he continued to stare at his reflection. "What am I going to do?"

"Eh, it doesn't look that bad-" Bugs began, but was once again overshadowed as Daffy became slightly hysterical.

"I can't go walking around looking like I went through a wood-chipper! A man's livelihood is in his hair, you know. What if I go BALD? Oh, wait, I'm already bald. The SHAME!" he ended, covering his eyes against the ghastly sight as Bugs rolled his eyes over his theatrics.

"Daf, this happens every year," Bugs spoke soothingly, attempting to calm Daffy down. "And every year you go through the same thing: you pitch a fit, gorge yourself on ice cream, hide in the house for two weeks, then get over it-what is that?"

Upon closer inspection of one of the larger featherless patches on Daffy's upper arm, there appeared to be an intricate Maori-style band spanning the width of his bicep.

"Is that a tattoo?" Bugs asked incredulously.

"What, this?" Daffy responded nonchalantly as he glanced down at the aforementioned ink. "I got it after we got thrown back in prison because you're a LUNATIC who enjoys being surrounded by vicious criminals with neanderthal shaped heads and having a toilet next to your bed!"

"I never said that!" Bugs retorted. "And I DEFINITELY don't remember you getting a tattoo."

"You're one to talk, THUGS BUNNY." Daffy retaliated, crossing his arms as he did so.

Bugs frowned. "That was one time! And it still doesn't explain why you have a tattoo."

"Fine. If you MUST know, I got it while they had us separated for escaping," Daffy replied, uncrossing his arms and instead flexing them in an attempt to show off. "I thought it might give me some street crud so I wouldn't get killed in my sleep."

"You mean street cred." Bugs corrected, giving the still-flexing Daffy a once-over.

Who would've thought he'd have it in him? Bugs mused, sidling over to Daffy's side.

"Say, Daf..." Bugs whispered into his ear, folding his hands behind his back as he leaned over. "You got any other tattoos?"

"No, just this one," Daffy whispered in reply. "Why are we whispering?"