Story: My Friend Yakko

This is it, the longest story I’ve written to date, at 26,000 words. Yes, I’ve completely lost my mind. For some background: I’ve had a really stressful past couple of months, and I wrote this more or less as a therapy piece. Then, I just kept adding to it and revising it a few times until it was nice and rounded out. I spent way too much time on this. It’s gone through about five or six revisions. I’m done looking at it. Now, you can look at it! :D

Warning: This story contains some dark themes, awful jokes, piles of sap, innuendo, and a “torture” scene I got a little carried away with. It doesn’t contain actual horny NSFW content, but I definitely don’t feel comfortable calling it SFW. I hope I didn’t assassinate Yakko’s character too much.

My Friend Yakko

By Numou the impfox

I

Numou

My name is Numou, and I’m a demon. Most people have never seen me - and never will. That’s the way I like it; that’s the way they like it, and that’s just how it is. Nobody ever wants to see a demon.

I don’t need to tell you why. We’re a harbinger of sin, suffering, malice, blah blah blah, etc., etc.

So let me tell you about the guy who didn’t mind seeing me.

I was just starting my morning routine, rolling out of bed after being awoken by the gorgeous hellfire sunrise, and had just poured myself a cup of coffee, when suddenly…

…he just magically appears in the middle of my living room. And then he waves at me. And before I even get the chance to lunge at him, within five seconds, I already know his name, his opinion on my furniture, my outfit, and my interior design skills.

And that he does not know how to stop talking.

So I’ll let him introduce himself.

Yakko

My name is Yakko Warner, the oldest of the Warner Brothers (and Warner Sister). If you don’t know who I am, then you really missed out in the 90’s!

It was a quiet Tuesday evening, and me and my siblings were out hitting the town, enjoying all the sights and sounds downtown Burbank had to offer. At some point, though, all the hitting started to hurt our hands, and Wakko had worked himself up an appetite.

“I’m in the mood for an extra-large, flame-broiled, brick-oven pizza right about now,” Wakko said to me, with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his hand rubbing his belly.

And wouldn’t you know, we found a place, just around the corner. It had a real rustic charm to it. A big open flame, inside a cutout of a red brick wall, down a long alleyway. The doorway had these neat little red neon signs all over it – Dot said it looked Italian. Perfect! Authentic Italian thin crust, just what Wakko was looking for.

“Looks like one of those hot-n-ready places,” Dot commented.

“Do you think they sell them by the dozen?” Wakko asked, with the drool already dripping from his tongue. “Or maybe baker’s dozen, so we can share.”

“Only one way to find out, I guess,” I said, as the three of us approached the entrance. It looked pretty warm and cozy.

It was really warm. A little too warm. And it kept getting warmer.

“Huh,” I said as my fur began to glisten with a bit of sweat, “You think the A/C’s broken in there?”

Dot nodded. “Or maybe the owner’s just a cheapskate,” she said.

As the three of us made our way closer to the doorway, we saw a feline-shaped figure come running out. It was a rather thuggish-looking, cream-furred cat man, and he was carrying a bag stuffed completely full. We could see a few shiny coins falling out of the bag as he ran, and he was laughing maniacally. Did he just rob a bank? He stopped for a moment upon meeting us, looking us up and down with his shifty blue eyes.

“Hey, you guys ain’t cops, are ya?” The cat guy asked.

“Um, no. But someone might have to call the fashion police on you,” I replied. His outfit was… something else. An open red vest of what I assumed to be leather, and baggy, tattered gray jeans with a chain dangling off of them. He looked kind of like a biker, but he didn’t have the muscles nor the tattoos to support it.

“Good!” The cat answered, seemingly ignoring my wisecrack. “Hey, that thing behind me there might be worth checking out! Some weird demon lives in there and is a huge pushover! And he’s LOADED!” He held out the bag and gave it a shake, and a few more coins dropped out of it.

“Huh, and here we thought it was a pizza place,” I said, holding my finger up against my chin.

Wakko’s ears drooped a bit. “Aww,” Wakko sighed, “I wanted some pizza!”

Dot put a hand on Wakko’s shoulder. “Maybe we can ask the demon if he has pizza,” she suggested.

Now, I enjoy my fair share of exotic cuisine, but there was something about the combination of the words “demon” and “pizza” in Dot’s sentence that triggered my big brother instincts.

“Hold on guys,” I said, pushing up in front of Wakko and Dot, “maybe we can try another place down the street a few blocks.

“You guys suit yourselves,” The cat guy chimed in, “but you’re missing out! See ya around!”

With that, the cat ran off to the opening of the alleyway and turned the corner, leaving the three of us to ourselves. We were all still curious though, so we walked up to the doorway anyway.

Yeah, this was no pizza parlor.

The neon signs weren’t Italian – they were Latin. And they weren’t neon – but I don’t know what they were. The whole thing looked very odd. Small green embers spouted and flickered along the perimeter of the doorway, and in the center was some kind of wormhole effect, where we could see a distorted view of whatever was on the other side. We couldn’t make out what was on the other side, but, thankfully, the cat guy just told us – some sort of demon.

If he was telling the truth.

Listen, I love jumping headfirst into weird-looking doorways as much as my siblings. We’re toons! We can bounce back from almost anything! But there was something that made me feel uneasy about this one.

“I dunno if this is a good idea you guys,” I said to my brother and sister.

“Aww, Yakko,” Dot replied, “let’s go in and take a look! It’ll be fun! That cat guy said some weird demon lives in there. Maybe we can make a new friend!”

I sighed. “Just a sec. Let me try something, first.” I picked up one of the many coins that the cat had dropped on the ground, and I threw it towards the doorway. It made the center shimmer a bit, then ripple like it was a pool of water I had dropped a pebble into. I briefly saw the coin pass through the distortion, and then, it fell away.

“Oh, oh, lemme try!” Dot exclaimed, pulling a bomb out from her skirt. She pulled out a lighter with the other hand, and then lit the fuse. Then, with a big wind up of her arm, she lobbed it straight into the doorway. After we watched the bomb shimmer and ripple through the distortion, she leaned towards the doorway, turned her head to the side, and put her hand under her ear.

After several seconds, we all heard an explosion. It sounded distant.

“Yup, that’s a portal to another dimension alright!” Dot said. “This is so cool!”

“Can we go in now?” Wakko said, his tongue still hanging out and drooling.

I looked back at Wakko and Dot, then sighed. We’ve probably jumped into worse things before without a second thought. So maybe I was just worrying too much. Not that I tend to worry much. But again, you know, big brother instincts.

“Fine,” I groaned, “but I’m gonna go in first. You two, stay behind me.” I pushed my way in front of my siblings, and positioned myself in a likely silly attempt to shield them, in case anything funky came out of that portal as we were jumping into it.

I took a deep breath. “Alright, here we go!”

The very second I stepped into the portal, I was yanked away from my siblings.

I could feel Wakko trying to hold onto me by the slack of my pants, and I’m pretty sure I felt Dot grab my arm. But it didn’t matter. I was pulled forward with such great force that no amount of grip was going to save me. I heard them both cry my name behind me – and then I was gone.

***

I don’t often like to admit when I’m scared. Because, quite often, I don’t get scared. Not really. Not actually.

When you’re a cartoon character, you don’t have a lot to worry about. The water often just runs off your back. Take falling, for example. I don’t mind falling. It usually just means spending the next scene transition unflattening yourself. But you always recover.

But sometimes the experience itself can be the hard part. Like falling into lava. It hurts. A lot. Or maybe it’s just scary and unpleasant. Like a pit of snakes. Or spiders; those are the worst.

Let’s just say, it was one of those experiences. I was falling in a void. At least, it was a void, at first. I wish it had stayed a void. But it seems like Hell has a mandatory onboarding video you have to watch. Just in case you had any doubts about where you were going. All of the things you’re afraid of, flashing before your eyes. I don’t know how they know, but they know. A little something to get the heart pumping, so the demon at the bottom can hit the ground running when he eats your soul. Of course, I’m not going to tell you about them – they’re a trade secret. Proprietary information.

But I do want to tell you about him.

He was the first living entity that I saw after I finished my personalized “Welcome to Hell” slideshow. Non-living entities included the hard stone floor I slammed my face into, the broody gray walls of the room I found myself in, and the mis-matched pieces of furniture that littered the place. He was a huge tapestry nerd, too; they were all over the walls. Absolutely beautiful – colorful, opulent, with a nice mix of satanic imagery mixed in here and there – but it was the tasteful kind. It all went very well with the near-painted looking sunrise that I could see outside the nearby window. It was very orange, and it looked like it was flickering. I don’t remember the sun ever doing that back at home. Oh, and there was the cup of coffee. And the lunch. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Standing maybe ten feet in front of me was a demon. He had all of the qualifications – red eyes, a spaded tail, two little horns, and two little fangs. And a full rack of sharp teeth, which he wasted no time showing to me. He was shorter than me, not by a lot, but just enough to hold it against him when the situation called for it. He was furry – he looked like a fox – dark blue on most of his body, save for his white torso and muzzle, and his black feet and hands. And, as my brother would often say…

He wasn’t wearing any pants.

He wasn’t wearing much of anything. Just these little black undies. I made sure to comment on them. He didn’t like that very much. I said a bunch of stuff to him before that, of course, but, you see, I was a little winded, from that fall, and that slideshow, and – y’know – that information isn’t really important.

I just want to introduce you to the new friend I made in Hell.

Numou

They’re always scared. All of them. Every single time.

Not of me. Not usually. I blame the timing. I’m always getting caught in the middle of something, like, while I’m in the shower, or during a nap, or while I’m cleaning the house. I’d like to think I’m just that scary, but they seem to be afraid before they even pick themselves off of the ground. But they never want to tell me about it, so I stopped asking some years ago.

Last week had been a rough week for me. I don’t want to talk about it. But this week didn’t look to be starting off any better. On Monday, a bomb blew up part of my living room, and today, this… thing drops from my ceiling and starts waving at me. I don’t really understand it – I can go weeks, months, sometimes even years if I’m lucky – without a single visitor, but there’s this saying I’ve seen in a few books that I’ve read: “When it rains, it pours.”

He started out as – quite literally – a pancake on floor. I would understand why that was the case very shortly, but he was able to pick himself up and stretch himself out before I even had time to get out the spatula.

I looked at him with a glare. His form was bizarre. Like something straight out of a 1930’s rubber hose animation. He was tall – taller than me – had jet black fur that was unusually uniform, floppy little ears that were canine-like, but thinner, a white face, and a clownish-looking red nose, all wrapped up in these gigantic, ridiculous-looking brown pants, pulled well over his waist.

I barely gave him a second to look at me. I was pissed.

“Are YOU the one who threw a bomb into my home yesterday?!” I snarled at him, bearing my all of my teeth. “Do you have ANY idea how rare these tapestries are?! Who ARE you, anyway?”

He just looked at me for a moment, sweat dripping down his face – again, it always did – and after a few “uhm’s” and “ah’s”… the cacophony began.

“Hey there pal!” He began, surprising me with his enthusiasm, considering the look on his face. “My name is Yakko Warner, and these are my siblings: Wakko and D—” he looked behind himself, as if he was expecting a backing crew. I wanted to say that his face went pale when he saw that nobody else was there, but it was already completely white, so that would just be lying.

He started to stammer a bit. “Uh… oh gosh… where did they go?!” he said, seemingly to himself, before turning his head forward again to look at me.

He let out a cough. “Uh… we’re… I’m… I’m the…” he stuttered anxiously, “I’m from… the Animaniacs!” He tried to put on a smile, but I could tell he was still recovering from his fall. “Ever heard of us… uh… me? I’m from a cartoon! We have our own show and everything!”

I gave him a moment of silence as I wracked my memory, but to be honest, I stopped watching TV long ago.

“Nope. No idea,” I replied to him plainly. I took a sip from my coffee, and looked at him with a frown.

He took a moment to look me over. He made this awkward smile; it looked forced.

“Uhh… I guess I caught you early in the morning, huh? Just rolled out of bed?” He started to chuckle. “Or maybe just coming home from a wild night at the bar?”

I scowled at him. I’ve heard that comment so many times, but it never gets any less grating.

“Silence! This is what I wear!” I yelled at him.

Yakko continued speaking to me in his annoying, weird, slightly gravelly, overly enthusiastic voice. “Oh, I see. That’s cool. I, uh, don’t wear much myself. Just these big brown slacks.” He pulled them away from his body several inches as if he was going to pull something out of them, but he didn’t, and instead he just let them snap right back up against his waist, as if they were suspenders – but they weren’t. And he was right; he didn’t wear much either. No shirt, not even a pair of shoes.

He smiled sheepishly at me. I knew he was feeling awkward. I didn’t care.

“So, uh, what’s your name? And what… are you?” he asked.

I sighed and stopped yelling at him. “My name is Numou. I’m an imp. What do you want from me?”

He was still looking nervous, even though I could tell he was trying his hardest to keep that smile plastered on his face. “Uhh, listen buddy. I didn’t even mean to come here.”

That’s what they all say.

“Uh huh,” I said with a grouchy frown on my face. “That’s what the last guy said.”

“Uhh… my siblings and I were walking around town, and then we saw this, uh, green fiery doorway, and we were hungry, and thought it might have been a pizza place,” he continued.

A pizza place? Now that was a new one. If only he had shown up later in the day, when I had the oven going. Then I could’ve Hansel and Gretel’d him into a delicious toon pie. Oh well. He didn’t look like he had a lot of meat on his bones, anyway.

I just continued sipping on my coffee. “Mhmm, so you and your siblings walked into a Hell portal and now you’ve landed in my living room,” I said in an unenthused tone.

Yakko’s floppy little ears perked up. “Oh, you’ve seen them?” he asked excitedly.

I shook my head. “No, sorry, I have not,” I said flatly.

“Oh…” he sighed, sounding very disappointed. “Well then, uh… do you mind telling me where I am… mister, uh… Numou?” he asked.

“You’re in my… lair,” I said to him, “my little hidey-hole. I guess you could call it my home. I live here. By myself.” I looked right at him, for emphasis. “Alone. In peace.”

He looked around the living room, seeing my big brown cloth sofa, my blue fabric armchair, and that old upholstery loveseat from the 50’s that I’ve never sat in, but can’t be arsed to dispose of. He gawked at the broken furniture, too, before turning back around to face me.

“Uhh, I’m no interior designer here, but…” he started, “what would you say was the theme of what you were going for here? Where’s the Feng-Shui?”

The Feng-Shui?! You barge into my home and start babbling on about the Feng-Shui? I could already tell this guy was the type who was never going to shut up. I just rolled my eyes at him and answered honestly.

“It’s called, the ‘five-finger-discount’,” I said, holding out my free hand, partially for purposes of body language, but also because I had just sharpened my claws last night, and wanted to show off a bit. “From whatever I can find laying around in the pockets of the mortal realm I wind up in.”

What he said next originally made me think he was just an imbecile, but I would learn later, the whole conversation was a joke. He was always joking. Always babbling. Always trying to be funny. It was exhausting.

“The mortal realm, huh?” he quipped. “Is that French, or something?”

I was already losing my patience. “No, dumbass!” I yelled, making sure to give my voice a boosted echo for added effect. “You’re in HELL!”

I saw him visibly jump a bit. I’m pretty sure he already knew where he was, so maybe it was the volume I yelled at him that startled him. It felt good, though. I like how well my voice carries.

“Hell?! I didn’t think you could say that word on TV!” He covered his mouth. “Gasp! I wasn’t censored! Is this the watershed block? Is that why you’re in your skivvies? I don’t remember agreeing to this anywhere in my contract!”

I groaned, and I sighed, and I groaned again. “Oh. You’re literally a cartoon character. You weren’t joking. Oh joy, oh bliss,” I said aloud. I took another sip of my coffee. “I’m gonna need to put on another pot.”

I was about to turn around to go do that, but he kept talking.

He gasped again. “Am I dead?!”

I was already brainstorming what kind of furniture I could make from his annoying lanky body. “No. But you will be if you don’t shut up.”

I saw him smirk now. That’s when I knew he was toying with me the whole time.

“Hey, pal,” he started, “I dunno if you heard it the first time, but, it’s literally in my name. Yak-ko.”

art by Glifer on FurAffinity.

Oh, I heard it, “pal”. It’s hard not to. Your name explains itself. He just kept droning on. “I’m kind of a celebrity, actually. I’ve got a bunch of fans out there – a fan club, even – and my own website, and… I’m kind of a big deal.”

I was this close to exploding at him, but even at that early point, I knew that was exactly what he wanted me to do. He was digging. So, I just kept breathing and giving him mild attitude.

“Kind of a big loser,” I grumbled. “You’re in my lair, and I don’t like uninvited guests. I have no idea who you are, and your story is unconvincing. So, you can walk out my front door and go back in through the portal I know you have out there, or, else…” I was about to ask him what room of the house he’d like to become a permanent fixture in, but then I realized, he would have answered it, literally, without even a breath of hesitation. So, no satisfaction for him yet. “…I’ll have to incinerate you.” I tried to say it as plainly and straightly as I could.

“Incinerate, eh?” Yakko started. “So you’re more of a flame-broil kinda guy?” Yup. This guy was going be nothing but non-stop zingers. He continued. “Or are you more of a Rotisserie kind of imp? Or did you buy one of those new air fryer thingies recently? I’ve heard they’re great if you don’t like using much oil.”

That’s okay. I’ve dealt with these types before.

I put on this subtle little smirk, looking him up and down as I was speaking.

“Spit-roast,” I said plainly and firmly. “Tenderized. Slow-cooked. Extra crispy.”

I think I caught him off guard with the answer. He probably just wanted me to yell at him some more. Get all angry, up in his face. That would be his cue to unleash his slapstick attacks. I wasn’t familiar with his show, but those toons, they’re all the same.

“Well, uh,” Yakko began to explain without any flourish this time, and maybe with a bead of sweat, “anyway, I’m serious, pal – I think I the portal closed behind me – I heard them call after me, and then I just started falling. I don’t even know where your front door is. I, uh… I think I’m trapped here.”

Maybe it was the imp in me reacting to an opportunity, or maybe I just had a Pavlovian response to hearing the word ‘trapped’ from the days of my past – but upon hearing him speak the last sentence, I could feel my face light up.

I don’t like company, but I like the idea of someone being around who can’t just walk out the door – maybe I was excited by the thought of having someone to mess with again. Or maybe I just didn’t want the silence and boredom to come back the second he left.

Or I thought maybe he would be… different.

But I wasn’t about to say any of that out loud.

“Well then,” I started, feeling the corner of my mouth curl upward ever so slightly, “I guess you need my help if you want out of here.” I was able to stop myself from biting my lip, but unfortunately, I was not able to stop my wiry tail from flicking around behind me at an increased pace. It has a mind of its own, you see. And he definitely saw it.

And I hate that he saw it.

So, when I saw him open his mouth to presumably make a wisecrack about it, I cleared my throat to interrupt him and put on the best “polite host” face I could muster. I didn’t need to do that, but my morning brain was still groggy, and it’s easier just to follow a script.

I took a sip from my mug, and then I asked him. “I was just about to brew a second pot of coffee. Would you like some?”

II

Yakko

I stood there for a second, just… blinking.

Did I just get offered… coffee? By the guy who threatened to incinerate me thirty seconds ago? The one who snarled like a chainsaw and was clearly two exasperated groans away from stuffing me into a lava pit?

I didn’t say anything at first. It was one of those rare moments where I didn’t have a punchline. I wasn’t sure if it was part of a plan – some sort of demon hospitality thing, where you offer your victim tea to butter them up before the torment.

But I wasn’t about to pass up a chance at trying hellfire-roasted coffee.

“Uh… yeah. Sure. Do you have sugar?” I asked, trying to wipe the stunned look on my face as quickly as I could.

“Of course,” he replied. “Cubes, or raw?”

I blinked again. “…One cube is fine.”

“Very well.”

I probably should have stayed in the living room, but against by better judgement, I followed him into the kitchen. I wanted to look around a bit, y’know. To see if the rest of his home had that ‘thrift store Halloween dungeon’ motif like his living room did.

I kept a little distance, like maybe if I walked carefully enough, the floor wouldn’t turn into quicksand, or the fridge wouldn’t try to eat me. But the imp just casually kept walking, tail swaying in a low arc behind him, muttering to himself as he fiddled with a coffee pot that looked like it survived several apocalypses.

I took in the surroundings of his little kitchen. To my surprise, it actually had a theme – a bit of 50’s diner thing going on, with the checkerboard linoleum and everything. It was charming. Then I watched him for a minute, the way he moved around his space. Muttering, grumbling, scowling at a spoon like it personally wronged him.

He didn’t really look like some doom-bringer overlord of chaos. I wasn’t confident enough to say he was harmless… but – I he looked more like he was just a grumpy little guy who was used to being alone, and that I was bothering him by being here.

Back in the living room, I sat down slowly on the somewhat flowery-looking loveseat – it looked like the safer option, because it looked like it had never been touched. It made a noise that I can only describe as an “old, tired, upholstery grunt”, and I sank down a few inches.

The silence lasted longer than I expected. I was almost starting to feel like maybe I wasn’t about to be turned into a Yakko-skin rug. Then, he came back with the coffee.

He didn’t say anything, he just handed it to me. He didn’t even make a crack about it being poison. I considered making one for him, but that probably would have been pretty rude.

So I just said, softly, “Thanks.”

I took a sip. It was surprisingly good. Notes of chocolate, and something toasty. Maybe my mouth was just dried out from my earlier falling experience, but it felt refreshing – and I started to feel a sliver of that old spark return.

I started off small. “So, Numou, how do you normally take your coffee?”

“Black,” he replied instantly, “always.” Of course. Just like his heart, right? I didn’t say that out loud.

“Well,” I said, stretching out my legs a little, “I gotta say, for a hostile demon plane of eternal suffering, your coffee game is weirdly on point. Is this a local roast, or imported from the Seventh Circle?”

I just heard him exhale gently through his black fox nose, expression unchanged. “Imported from Colombia, actually. Something I swiped off the shelf of a little café while it was closed for the night.”

There was something about his answer that piqued my interest. The patience. The seriousness.

“Oh?” I said, with my thin ears perking. “You visit Earth sometimes?”

His expression remained the same, but he continued conversing without any irritation in his voice. “Absolutely. Quite often, in fact. It can be fun. You never really know where you’ll end up. How do you think I got all this furniture?”

I looked around the living room again, and seeing the bomb-mangled table and chairs made me wince a bit. I quickly looked away from them.

“I dunno, I figured Hell might have a mail-order catalog, or a shopping mall with enslaved retail workers, or an imp-unionized Amazon warehouse.” The wisecracks were returning to me. I felt better already.

I saw his mouth twitch. Oooh, maybe he wasn’t such a grumpy little imp after all. I guess I’d find out.

“Oh, we do,” he replied, “but why pay for something when you can get it for free?”

“Oh good,” I agreed, “I was starting to get worried.”

The twitch in his mouth disappeared, and that frown of his returned.

“…About what?” he asked.

I just about completed the thought, but no – it wasn’t the right time. Too early. Incineration could’ve still been on the table. So I quickly changed the subject. I thought now was a better time than ever to bring up the bomb.

“Uh… that… you… you wouldn’t be able to afford a replacement for the table and chairs I blew up on you.”

He scowled at me. “So it WAS you.”

I made a little nervous smile. “Actually, it was my sister, Dot. She’s the one who threw the bomb. We saw the portal in the alleyway, and we were testing it out.”

He tilted his head. “So you guys just throw explosives around haphazardly? Where do you even get them?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, it’s a toon thing,” I explained, scratching the back of my head. “We can pull anything out of hammerspaces, as long as it makes the gag work.”

The imp looked at me, genuinely confused for a moment. I thought maybe he’d had seen some cartoons before. But maybe it had been a few decades. “What the hell is a hammerspace?”

“You know, like an infinite pocket. I have one in my pants. Wanna see?” I pulled gently on the waist of my slacks and gave him the eyebrow wiggling, too. You know. Just in case he wasn’t paying attention.

The look on his face made me laugh. He looked mortified. I could see the redness through the white fur on his muzzle. I wish I could’ve taken a photo.

“Uh… no, I’m good, thanks,” He mumbled, and then immediately looked away from me.

There was some awkward silence. Maybe I threw that joke too early. I probably should have bought him dinner first. So I walked back the conversation a bit.

“So, wait, which of the three was it that you guys have again? The catalog? The enslaved shopping mall? Imp Amazon?”

I saw him bite his lip. Or fox muzzle, or whatever you want to call it. And, it was subtle, but I could see it: he was smirking.

“…Don’t worry about it.”

Numou

But of course he was going to worry about it. Or pick at it. Or file it away in that endless filing cabinet of one-liners and wordplay that he seemed to always carry around with him. He didn’t respond, though, not immediately. He just took another sip of his coffee, long legs folded awkwardly on the little loveseat like he wasn’t sure how to sit like a normal person. Or maybe that was just how cartoons sat. Everything was exaggerated with him. Animated.

He was quiet. For once. Probably just waiting for the caffeine to kick in and think up his next set of zingers to tire me with.

I stared at the carpet between us, because there was only so long I could stare at his weird red clown nose before it started to freak me out. It was one of those old shag rugs I stoke from a vacation home in the Alps sometime in the 70s. Not a stain on it. Well, there was some cat hair on it now, but I don’t want to talk about that.

And now here was this… thing. This walking, talking, and much to my annoyance, breathing, cartoon character, drinking my coffee like we were two coworkers on lunch. And here was just… here. Still. Not clawing at the walls. Not screaming. Not trying to bribe me with his soul. Just… here.

I hated it. Or, rather, I hated that I… didn’t hate it.

He started speaking again. Oh well, the silence was nice while it lasted.

And just as I was about to entertain the idea of not hating somebody else’s company, he throws me the question.

“So, pal,” he began, “if you can visit Earth whenever you want… does that mean, maybe, you could help me get back home?”

This is where, if I had a heart, I would’ve felt it sink. But I don’t have one, so I’m not sure where that feeling came from. But it just came out of me. I couldn’t control it. I let out a sigh so loud that, even if his weird floppy ears had been full of earwax, he still would’ve heard it.

Damn it.

Yakko

I heard the sigh. I mean, you couldn’t not hear it, even if you had your TV on mute and the Closed Captions turned off. The same kind of sigh that I give Wakko when he leaves his socks in the fridge. The sigh the studio execs give me when I suggest adding a ukelele solo to the opening credits. The kind of sigh that says, “I knew this was coming, but I’m still disappointed.”

I tried not to say anything right away. I just took another sip of my coffee and pretended like I hadn’t noticed. Of course, I did notice. I knew it, he knew it, and at least one of the spiders on the wall knew it.

“…This is really good coffee,” I said, carefully, changing the subject on purpose once again. “Seriously, you could open up a spooky little café. ‘Impspresso Yourself.’ Hell’s first latte lounge.” I was quite proud of that one, actually.

But I got nothing. Not even a twitch this time. He just sort of stared past me, like he was doing math in his head. Which, honestly? He probably was. Something told me interdimensional travel wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.

“So,” I continued, slowly lowering the cup to my lap, “is that a yes, a maybe, or a ‘Yakko, I’m afraid I’ll have to harvest your pancreas for parts now’?”

Still nothing. I had to keep going.

“…Do imps harvest pancreases? Or do you guys just go for the whole spleen? I feel like the spleen’s underrated in the demonic parts market.”

That got him. A little bit. Just a tad.

It wasn’t a laugh, exactly. It was more like the sound of air escaping from an old tire. Barely a chuckle. But I like to think it counted.

“It’ll take time,” he muttered, finally speaking again. “And effort. I don’t have a working gateway set up anymore. The last one was dismantled. Violently.”

“…Oof. So… bad breakup?”

I heard a growl this time. Not a grumpy old imp groan like I was hearing earlier. But a growl. Like I hit a nerve. But it didn’t feel good. Normally I love hitting nerves. It’s fun. But this one just felt… bad.

I looked down at my coffee, and leaned a little more back into the weird, floral graveyard of a loveseat, stretching my legs out in front of me. “Well,” I said, “If it takes time… I guess that means I’ll be sticking around a little longer, huh?” I tried to watch my inflection. Up a bit right at the end, to make it sound more like a compliment than a complaint.

I think it worked, because I saw his tail twitch. Just a little. Good, I was back on the rope. Now, time to pull.

“Unless, of course,” I added quickly, “you have absolutely no intention of letting the big-name cartoon guy leave. And why would you? Use me for labor. Sell my quotes on a coffee mug. All part of your evil impish plan – and I wouldn’t blame you. You’re probably a huge fan of my show.” I made sure to say the whole thing with a smile.

I heard him groan – there it was – the return of the grumpy imp groan, which was certainly an upgrade from the growl.

He looked at me. “Get over yourself, Yakko. Trust me when I say that I have no idea who you are.”

I looked him in his red eyes, still with the smile on my face. “Dr. Scratchansniff always told me never to trust imps.”

He took another sip of his coffee, then continued holding the cup in front of his face, as if he was trying to hide it. “I don’t know who that is, but… that’s good advice.”

Numou

He was right. You should never trust imps. Not me, and certainly not the other ones.

I know he was joking about the whole “evil impish plan” thing, but – if I was like the other imps, he would’ve been exactly on point. I didn’t have to build him a portal. I didn’t even have to let him out of my house. I could’ve kept him on a ball and chain if I wanted to. There were no laws against it down here. There was nothing to stop me from making him my slave for the rest of eternity.

Except for one little thing. One little thing that made me different from the rest.

The guilt.

I would’ve felt no happiness from keeping him here against his will. Well, maybe just a little bit at the beginning. I’m sure I could find something fun to do to him, and he’d probably be pretty good at helping me clean up the house. He’d be annoying, sure, but he wouldn’t stay that way – eternity would break him eventually.

But that was the problem. It breaks them.

They turn into zombies. Devoid of complex emotion. At some point, they even stop screaming. They stop crying. They just kind of mope. Always frowning. Always looking… dead inside.

It was making me upset just thinking about.

You see, I’m cursed. Not literally – I don’t think there was any magic involved here. But for some reason… I feel what most of the others don’t. Guilt. Empathy. It’s always been that way. From the day I was I was… uh… “born”. As long as I can remember.

That’s why I live here. Alone, away from the others. I hate them. Not in the same way I hated the guy sitting across from me right now. But actual hate. They’re evil. They’re worse than evil. They’re depraved.

And as if he was reading my mind, that’s when I he asked the question.

“So, Numes…” Oh no. He had a nickname for me now. “Why do you live out here, all alone? No roommates, imp or otherwise? Do you have anyone special in your life?” He was looking at me with his big cartoon eyes, all full of spark, mischief, and just the barest hint of sincerity. I should have just said ‘none of your business’ and left it at that. But those eyes.

They were infuriating.

I winced, visibly. I’d let him see that much emotion. Make him feel like he was getting somewhere. But he was getting the simplified answer. The cliffnotes. He didn’t need to know the whole backstory.

“Roommates don’t last long down here,” I muttered, setting the cup down on the table between us. “The last one tried to turn my bookshelf into a portal generator. Blew a hole in the ceiling and let in a plague of fire-bats. It took me two weeks to get them out, and they still show up sometimes when the lights flicker.”

I could feel him staring at me. He wasn’t buying the deflection. I sighed, again. It was becoming a habit.

“Okay,” he replied, “What about at the office? What do you do for work, anyway? Nine-to-five at the imp mailroom in the big tower downtown on Smokewall Street?”

“I don’t work. Not… anymore.” Shit. Wrong answer. I was opening the door for more follow-up questions. I quickly made something up. “I uh, got laid off a while ago. You know how it is. Soul budget cuts. Sometimes they just don’t come in fast enough. It’s the same as the economy where you live. It’s cyclic.”

He looked at me, and he opened his mouth to say something, but I interrupted him. “Besides, most of the imps down here… they’re not really the kind you want to share a house with. Or an office. Or a conversation. Or… anything, really.”

He tilted his head a bit, like a curious bird. “So you just don’t like people, huh? That’s too bad. People can be fun. Even the grouchiest ones. Ralph tries to lock us in our tower almost every night, but I still like him.”

If I was smart, I could’ve stopped the conversation right there. I had the perfect opportunity. Who was this Ralph guy? And why was he locking Yakko in a tower?

But I’m not smart. So I said the worst possible thing I could’ve said next.

“No, Yakko… You don’t understand.” I regretted the sentence the microsecond it came out of my mouth. I felt the color leave from my face in real time. I busted the dam.

The damn dam.

But before I could let the rest of it spill out, I turned my face away from him. I knew it was too late, so I decided to distract him with the only thing I knew he cared about right now.

I mumbled quietly. “I’m going to go get started on that portal.”

I turned around and walked over to one of my many bookcases. I started looking for the spellbook. It took me longer that I wanted to have. Long enough for me to hear the silence. I had just met him, but I knew enough about Yakko now to know that if he was awake and wasn’t talking, it only meant one thing: he was thinking. He was pondering. I could hear the gears turning in his head.

I hated hearing him speak… and I hated it when he didn’t speak.

Yakko

I didn’t say anything right away.

That tiny slip – “No, Yakko, you don’t understand.” – it echoed around in my brain, and I didn’t know what to do with it. It was probably echoing around in his brain, too. It was strange. That voice had done a lot of things since I got here. It yelled. It growled. It snarled. It sighed like the weight of a hundred eternities were stuffing up his sinuses.

But this time, it cracked… just a little. I could hear the difference in… intention. Like he accidentally opened a door he usually kept bolted shut, and immediately slammed it back closed with both hands and put a chair up against the doorknob.

I just watched him as he stood by the bookshelf, flipping through volumes like he was desperately not trying to look like he was flipping through volumes. You know when someone’s pretending to be busy so they don’t have to talk to you? It was that.

He was doing it again. Making me go quiet. I want you to understand, this never happens. I’ve been told I never shut up. I know I never shut up. It’s my job. It’s in the name. It’s my career.

But I wasn’t at work. I wasn’t on my TV show. I was starting to realize that this guy wasn’t like the bad guys on our show. This wasn’t just some grump in a loincloth who opened the scene with trying to smash me through the meat grinder and turn me into a Toony Patty, giving me a free pass to torment him for the rest of the episode. This was someone who’d seen… stuff. Bad stuff. And maybe done bad stuff, too.

You couldn’t just win against him. He was more complicated than that. And it irritated me.

Because I don’t like it when it’s complicated. I’m a cartoon character. I only like to think as so far as to scheme up a good gag, or an escape route, or a funny joke. But now I had to think about… someone’s feelings. Sentiment. Sap.

I’m not a sap kind of guy.

But I know someone who needs a hug when I see one. And this guy looked like he was owed 500 years of hug backpay to help pay off his therapy bill. Dr. Scratchansniff was the psychologist – the therapy guy – not me. And I try to keep my free hug balance as close to zero as I possibly can. But there was one kind of therapy I could give him. The only kind I knew how to give him.

The kind I gave everyone, every day.

Comic therapy.

I leaned back in the flowery loveseat and let out a sigh of my own. “Look, you don’t have to spill your tragic backstory or anything. I get it. I’ve got stuff I don’t talk about either. But… I dunno. I think you’re doing pretty okay, for a guy who gets by on his own and decorates like Dracula’s nephew who failed art school.”

No response. Expected. That was a bad one, anyway.

“Scratch that, the tapestries put you way above Dracula’s nephew. Seriously. Where’d you get them, anyway? Imp Etsy? Impsy? Did one of those whiskered Chinese dragons pass and have an estate sale? I’m just saying, they’ve got that perfect balance of ‘majestic heirloom’ and ‘please leave your soul in the jar by the door.’ Very tasteful.”

Still no response. But I saw his ear twitch. It was working. Slowly.

“And the color palette? Gorgeous. Lots of reds, purples, and golds. Very infernal chic. I mean, I don’t even know what that writhing goat-dragon is doing to that screaming bishop in the corner, but it’s art, baby.”

He was still flipping pages. Still not looking at me. But I was looking at him as I thought up my next jab. I saw his grip on the book go a little looser. That was something. And then I looked at what he was wearing again, and I got a fun idea.

“You ever think about opening a gallery? Numou Presents: ‘Imp-ressions of the Underworld.’ Or, maybe more fitting for you, ‘Imp-ressions of the Underwearworld.’

I could’ve sworn I heard something that time. A fast exhale. His tail even twirled. It actually curled up – inwards – and stayed like that for a moment. I think he liked it. I pushed a good button. Time to keep pushing.

“Are pants optional in the imp mailroom? Asking for a friend. Well, for my brother, actually. He’s looking for a part-time job for his evenings off set, and I think he’d be a good fit. But pants on the job is a non-starter for him.”

His tail curled. Again. He was making sure to look exactly 180 degrees away from me now. He wasn’t gonna let me see a thing. Perfect.

“So like, if an imp goes to a formal event, you know – one of those stuffy gallas – maybe something for a soul fundraiser for less fortunate demons – does he wear a suit, or anything? Where does he put the tie if he’s not wearing a shirt? Does he just tie it around his neck and go bare, or does he get one of those clip-on bowties and stick it to his waistband?”

He dropped one of the books he was going for on the shelf. It tumbled down and rolled a bit, landing at least a foot away from the bookshelf. Just enough to force him to turn his head in my direction. And I saw it.

He was blushing.

One more. The finishing blow.

“Do imps have different pairs of undies depending on which Sin Department they’re assigned to that day? Purple for Lust days? Red for Wrath days? Do you guys wear tighty-whities on Casual Fridays? Or is it just the angels that wear those?”

That was it. A giggle. A full, three-quarters-of-a-second long giggle. It was unmistakable. And just in case I didn’t hear him, he still rewarded me with a response.

“That’s it, I’m going to put pants on now. Just for you,” he said, standing up, making sure to spin around to hide his face again. He began walking towards where I assume his bedroom was, so I got off of the chair and followed him just a few steps.

“Wait, Numes,” I said, trying to hide the huge, satisfied grin on my face. To my surprise, he stopped. He still didn’t look at me, but he said something.

“…What?” He grunted.

“Which Department did you have to wear those black ones for?”

I saw him move a hand up to his mouth. He was trying so hard to hold it in. But I could hear the chuckling. No matter how stifled it was.

“…I hate you,” he said, with a satisfying little choke right on the last word. He ran off to his room, with his tail curled the entire way.

Nah. He was in love.

III

Numou

I hated him. I hated him so much.

I couldn’t even give him the silent treatment. He still found a way to pick through it. Pick, pick, pick. He was an expert at his craft. Even when I stopped saying anything, he hooked me by the waistband and pulled.

I blame my stupid tail. I can’t control it. It might as well be its own person. It makes decisions for me. I don’t get a say in where it points, where it twirls, where it flexes or where it curls. It does what it wants. It’s an independent contractor.

But it’s part of what makes me, me, so I tolerate it. You could say IT’S my one roommate.

Pants weren’t gonna cover it up, but he figured out one way to make me squirm, and now I had no choice but to shut down that avenue. I went into my bedroom, opened a drawer, and grabbed the first pair of loose-looking sweatpants I could find. They were… also black. Whatever, I said I was going to do it, so now I had to. I looped my stupid tail through the hole in the back and pulled on the drawstring. It would do for now.

He still wasn’t going to make me wear a shirt though. Those are even worse.

Besides, then he’d be wearing less than me. And we’re not going there in this story. We’re never going there.

Because I hate him.

By the time I got back to the living room, Yakko had made himself at home. Legs kicked up, sipping the rest of his coffee like he’d earned it, like he was on his lunch break on shift at the damn torment factory. He even moved over to the couch for some reason. I guess it was probably more comfortable than that ugly-looking loveseat.

Anyways, whatever. I didn’t comment on it. I just went over to the bookcase, grabbed the volume I needed, and carried it to the corner of the room, where I kept a rune circle on the floor. There were lots of different kinds of rune circles, but this one was just for portals. It was the same one I had smashed to pieces just last week, for… reasons. There were still bits of stone and metal scattered on the floor. It was a mess.

It was time to put the overly-comfy toon to work. I looked over at him. “Hey, Yakko?”

His floppy little ears perked. “Yes, mister imp?”

“Can you grab the broom and dustpan from my closet for me?” I asked. “I have to clean this up before I can do any sort of portal-building for you.”

He gulped down the last of his coffee and nodded. “Sure, pal. Do you need me to put a maid outfit on first?”

I grunted at him. “Are you capable of going longer than thirty seconds without trying to say something funny?” I already knew the answer. It was a rhetorical question.

He smirked. “Nope. Do imps keep their memories in their tails? Because I think those sweatpants are cutting off your circulation. You’re already forgetting who I am.”

“Just go get the damn broom before I cut off the circulation to your lungs!” I snapped at him.

He ran out of the living room, audibly chuckling to himself. He was only gone for a second, before coming back and sticking his head through the doorway of the living room.

“Hey, Numes. You wanna remind me where those are again?”

I looked over at him without getting up. “Down the hallway. Far. There’s two closets. It’s the big one on the right.”

While he was gone, I started looking through my spellbook for a certain page. Thankfully, I had it earmarked. I could hear him rummaging through the junk in my closet. He was there for at least four minutes. Just enough time to give me some much-needed concentration. It was long enough for me to get something started.

Eventually, he came back to the doorway and stuck his head in again. “Uhh, Numes?”

I looked up from what I was doing. “Yeah?”

“The broom’s not in there. I looked everywhere.”

I sighed. “Oh, uh, sorry. I think it’s actually in the other closet. The smaller one, on the left.”

“You got it, pal. Be back in a jiffy.”

And a jiffy it was, because he was gone no longer than a minute that time. He came back with the broom and dustpan. “Yeah, you were right. It was the closet on the left. I must say, you have a lot of interesting stuff in that other closet. Like, there’s an actual treasure chest. Pretty sure I saw pirate doubloons in there. But, uh, what are the bones for, exactly?”

I just rolled my eyes at him and pointed to the messy rune circle corner that was covered in bits and pieces. “Just clean that up, please.”

He nodded. “Yakko Warner housekeeping, at your service.”

Then, with a bow, he started moving the broom over top the pieces of ruined portal that were on the floor, and just like that, they were gone. Instantly. I didn’t even see him use the dustpan. Then, he moved right over to the other corner of the room, where the broken table and chairs were. With one hand, he started sweeping, and with the other, he reached into his pants, and pulled out…

…a hammer.

He started hitting the broken pieces of wood with the hammer, and continued sweeping the broom around. At one point, he was hitting the pieces with the broom, and sweeping them with the hammer. It made no sense. It looked ridiculous. It defied logic.

All of a sudden, there was a dust cloud, and the sound of loud banging. I could’ve sworn I heard a saw as well. I just kept staring, in awe. Trying to comprehend what I was looking at.

And just when I thought it couldn’t make any less sense, the dust cloud disappeared, and he stopped.

And it was fixed.

Everything. The whole thing. The table looked as good as new. The chairs were no longer in pieces. It was magic. Toon magic.

My jaw dropped. I could barely speak. “H…how did you…?”

He smiled, and his weird little tail wagged a bit. “Hammerspaces, remember? As long as the gag works. Ta-da!”

I just blinked for a moment, then I shook my head. “But… that’s not even… funny. I mean… it’s amazing, but… where’s the punchline?”

As soon as I said that, the table and chairs started to crack as if they were made of glass. And then… they shattered. Back into pieces they went.

He gasped, then looked at me with a scowl on his face. “Look what you did! You ruined it by pointing it out! Joke ruined. Table ruined. All that work, for nothing.” He did a little mock sigh, then looked at me.

With a big, stupid smirk on his face.

Because he could already see it. The smile on my face. I tried to hold it in, but it just came out. I giggled. For several seconds. Longer than from the underwear jokes this time. It was completely unexpected. I don’t know how he did it, but…

It was just so damn funny.

Yakko

I made him laugh. Like, really laugh. Not a wheeze or a reluctant puff of air, or just a twitch of his tail. This one came out loud. It even echoed a bit through his house, too.

I felt… proud? Is that the word?

I dunno. Don’t get me wrong, I always feel proud when I make someone laugh. That’s kind of my whole job. But this was different. It kind of felt like I was getting some old rusty clockwork ticking again. It felt… rewarding.

I watched him look back down at his spellbook, flicking through some pages, still wearing the smile on his face. He didn’t wipe it off just yet.

But then I asked him a question. It was an innocent one. I was trying to keep the vibe going.

“Hey Numou, got any fun magic tricks in there you wanna show me?”

Instantly, the smile was gone. Wiped from existence. Like it was never there in the first place.

I waited for a second to see if I was missing something. Like if maybe he already started focusing on a spell for me, and the scowl was just part of his concentration.

This was not the case. He didn’t answer right away. He just crossed his arms, looking like he was trying to choose between sighing or snarling.

He chose to snarl.

“I knew it. I should’ve known. All of you are in cahoots with one another. Even reading from the same script.” His voice was lower now. It didn’t sound angry… just… tired. Bitter.

I blinked. “…Come again?”

“You’re doing exactly what he did. You even said the same thing. In the same way. Word for word.”

Now I was the one frowning. “What who did? What did I say? What are you talking about?”

I could see him take a deep breath. One in through his nose, and out through his mouth. It was more than just a sigh this time. “That stupid cat.”

My ears perked. “Cat, you say?” I asked. Was he talking about that cat? The guy we met in the alleyway? The guy we thought who just robbed a bank?

I looked at Numou and squinted. “He didn’t happen to have… off-white fur and a red vest?”

Numou rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Kinda skinny and laughed like a maniac?” I continued.

“Yes.”

“Smelled kind of like… cheap cologne?”

Numou growled and clutched his hand. “Yes! So you do know him!”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t know him, but we did see him coming through the portal,” I explained. “Just a few minutes before I jumped in. He was carrying a big bag and said… uh… something about you. And then—”

The imp interrupted me. “Wait, did you say just a few minutes before you jumped in?” He tilted his head, confused. “That was last week.”

“No,” I said, still shaking my head, “it was like five minutes. I swear.”

Numou put a hand up to his chin. “…so if the bomb came rolling in through here yesterday, that would place it—”

Now I interrupted him. “Yesterday? The bomb was literally just before I had jumped in. Maybe a minute. Tops.”

He pondered for a moment. “Huh. I guess time does tend to flow differently between down here and up there. But I think it varies every so often. Anyway… you said he – the cat guy – said something about me?”

I stammered awkwardly, trying to think of something funny or clever to say to lighten the mood or change the subject. But Numou seemed to get pretty angry from just hearing about him, so I figured he already had an idea of what I was going to tell him.

“He said you were, uh, well…” I started, “…kind of weird. And a pushover.”

I really could have left out that last part.

I could see his foxish ears droop immediately. He let out another one of his many sighs, but this one was probably his loudest yet.

“Flip,” Numou sighed. “His name was Flip. And you’re doing exactly what he was doing. Pretending to be interested.”

I squinted my eyes at him again. Sounds like this guy had trust issues.

“He pretended to like me,” Numou continued, “asked to see my magic. With basically the same wording you did. He laughed at my jokes, fluffed the couch cushions, and even helped me clean the damn rune circle.”

Oh. This is where this was going. I stayed quiet.

He kept going. “He didn’t start off that way. When he got here, he was panicked. Clawing at the walls to leave. That’s a normal response. I don’t take offense to that. I opened up my front door and told him he can leave whenever he likes, but good luck trying to get another imp to build you a portal out of Hell.”

I kept looking at him.

“But then, all of a sudden, he calmed down,” he continued. “I think that’s when he realized how much stuff I had. How much loot. And that’s when the charm offensive began. And I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. He even made sure to note how I was looking at him. He had this little red vest, open, kinda skimpy.”

I debating trying to stop him there. I could see the hurt in his eyes. But I had to let him vent.

“He would do this thing where he’d do a stupid little stretch, and give me the side eye. With his charming blue eyes. He kind of smelled nice, too. I was eating right from the palm of his hands. And then, the second the portal was finished… he took everything he could carry and ran through with it. Not even a goodbye. He just called me a sucker and vanished.”

He looked at me now. In the eye. Directly.

“So go ahead. Ask to see more magic. Keep dragging this out. You’ve already seen where I keep the valuable stuff, haven’t you? In the closet on the right. Doubloons, bones, and all. And what – your siblings are just waiting outside? Or maybe they’re already inside. Hiding in a vase, under a cushion, or even under the damn tapestry. Waiting for you to give the signal.”

My jaw dropped slightly. Not because I was offended – okay, I was a little offended – but because I could feel it. I could feel how much it hurt him to say all of that out loud.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, holding up my gloved hands. “Slow down, Nosferimp—”

“Don’t.” He snapped at me. “I’m not laughing anymore. All of you jumped into the portal together, I know you did. You just sent that cat in first as a dry run. Probably some homeless guy you found on the street, right? How much did you pay him? Don’t lie to me.”

“Numou, look at me, pal.” He was already looking at me. He looked devastated. Like I had just kicked a puppy in front of him. “How smart do you think I am? Do I look like someone who could think five steps ahead like that long enough to scheme something that elaborate? I’m a cartoon character.” In fact, I was pretty smart. I do a lot of reading. I can probably think five steps ahead if the prank was good enough. So maybe I wasn’t making the best argument.

“You’re an actor,” he growled. “You’ve told me as such from the moment you got here. You’ve never shut up about it. It’s your job to make a joke out of me.”

I let out a breath and dropped onto the couch.

“Numou, we literally nearly ran into the guy on his way out,” I explained. “None of us have ever met him before. It was just… good timing.”

He just gave me a harsh look with his red demon eyes, and then looked away.

I wasn’t prepared for this much deep introspection. This much… actual therapy work. To say this wasn’t in my contract would be an understatement. My contract was violated ages ago. We were in uncharted territory now.

I just kind of sat there for a minute. I’m not gonna lie, I was panicking a bit. Not visibly. Just in my mind. What do I do now? He’s right about me being an actor. What do you even say to that? ‘No, believe me bud, I’m not acting this time’? That I’m different from the rest? That I’m special? I couldn’t even make another joke, because he would just assume it was a front. No – I was backed into a corner, and I didn’t know what to do. I was all out of options.

Except one.

The one I hate.

Sap.

So I just said it. Before I changed my mind.

“Numou.” I swallowed. I sighed. I looked at him with the most serious face imaginable. I probably looked like I was depressed. “Do you…”

Ugh. Here it goes.

“…do you need a hug?”

Numou

Do I need a hug?

What kind of ridiculous, embarrassing, gut-twisting question is that?

Yes.

But with him? Hell no.

I froze. Not outwardly. Outwardly, I scowled. I crossed my arms a little tighter, staring down at him like I was trying to curse his bones into gravel. But inside… well. I was going to say, “he didn’t need to know what I was feeling on the inside,” but – who was I kidding? He knew. I was just as wide open to him as my spellbook on the floor.

That question – it shouldn’t have hit me the way it did. People have said it to me before. Usually mockingly. With venom in their voice. As in, “aww, does poor widdle impy wimpy need a huwg?”

But he didn’t say it like that. There was no sarcasm. No flirty eyebrow waggle. No follow-up zinger about hugging being a gateway drug to spooning. Just… maybe… genuine concern. Maybe.

If I could believe him.

No one ever offers a hug down here. Not unless it’s a trick, or again, a joke. Not unless you wake up in a soul jar afterwards. And the worst part? I wanted to believe him. I wanted to lean in and bury my face in the stupid black void that was his chest and sob until my horns fell off.

But I couldn’t. I looked away.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” I muttered. “You don’t know what it’s like down here. You think this is all a cartoon special where the grumpy villain gets redeemed with a group hug and a pie in the face. It’s not.”

I felt my tail twitch again, traitorous little thing. I grabbed it and shoved it under my arm to stop it from curling.

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there. Waiting. Patient.

I managed to make him shut up again. And it was the worst.

I paced towards the rune circle. My bare foot nearly stepped on a piece of portal glass that Yakko had missed. I stopped to pick it up, and I just held it in front of me, looking at it with a sigh. There it was. The stupid sighing again.

I didn’t give him the opportunity to speak. I continued on with my sob story.

“Do you know how hard it is to smash a portal gate into so many pieces? With your bare hands? That’s how angry I was. That’s what I wanted to do to his body. Smash it. Tear it. Rip it into a million pieces, and have him feel it. Just like the bad old days.” I sniffed a bit and clenched my fists. I guess I paused for too long, because he was able to get something in this time.

“Wow, Numes,” he inserted, “You gotta admit… that’s pretty metal. I’m… imp-ressed.” He couldn’t help himself. He even did his stupid little smirk. So I raised my voice. I wasn’t proud of that.

“Stop pretending with me, Yakko! No more games! If you want my stuff, just take it! If you want me to build the portal, I’ll do it! But don’t ask for magic tricks! Don’t ask for stories! And don’t offer me hugs unless you mean it!”

I turned to face him again. His expression had changed back to that serious and calm face. Unreadable. Then, quietly, he said:

“…What if I do mean it?”

I looked away again. Not to hide, this time. Just to breathe. I didn’t say anything. I took a few breaths, and went back to work on the rune. I didn’t look at him once.

I want to say some twenty minutes went by. He didn’t say a single word. He was done with me; I knew it. He wanted out of here, and I wanted him gone. The joke was up.

***

I got about three-quarters of the way through with the portal. I still wasn’t looking at him.

“It’s almost done,” I said, my voice low and focused. “So if your siblings are hiding in a lamp, now’s the time to get them.”

He stood up off of the couch and took a few steps towards me. I still didn’t look at him. But then I felt it. The soft little pat on my shoulder. My ears perked, and I tensed up, ready to strike if I had to.

Finally, he spoke. “I meant it,” he said, with a soft little voice.

Then, after a few seconds: “Also… you’ve got something on your rune.”

I looked down at the base of the portal ring. It was a spoon.

A spoon. Where the hell did he get a spoon?

I stared at it. Then I stared at him. I just snarled at him. “What are you doing?”

“Well, you said not to ask for magic tricks,” he said, looking like he was fighting to keep his face from cracking a smile. “So I brought my own. Wanna watch me make it disappear?”

I kept staring at him. Blank. I wasn’t prepared for what came next.

He opened his mouth, and with a big, loud, audible gulp, he swallowed the spoon. Whole.

He ate the spoon. He made it disappear.

He gave me a smile that was softer than usual. Like it was more cautious. Then, in an equally soft voice, he said: “Ta-da.”

I lost it.

IV

Yakko

I was thinking that one up for a while, actually. It was my last resort. If that didn’t work, if it hadn’t at least gotten a smirk, or an exhale, or the lightest chuckle out of him, that was it. It was over.

But I got so much more.

He fell onto the floor. He started rolling. Actually rolling. He was rolling before the laughing started. But after a few seconds, I heard it. It was hysterical. Like all of his giggles were sealed up tight in a soda can, and I shook it, and cracked it open. He exploded.

He was spitting all over the place. Coughing. He almost sounded like he was choking. His eyes were shut tight, but when they finally opened, I could see the whites of them had turned red to match his irises. His white muzzle was covered in tears.

I wish I could have recorded it. It felt like the highlight of my career. Like something I could get plated and put up in a trophy case.

I did it. No hugging required. Next up, M would call me on the radio and tell me mission accomplished; report to Burbank for debriefing. I could’ve left then. As far as I was concerned, my work here was done. He could’ve finished up the portal, said some goodbyes, and I could’ve hopped through while he still had a smile on his face. And we would’ve both been happy.

But I wasn’t done yet.

The mission was over, but something was keeping me there. There was a fuzzy feeling in my chest, and it wasn’t heartburn from the spoon I had just swallowed.

It was joy. I felt pure, unbridled joy. In Hell.

And I wasn’t ready to leave it behind just yet.

Besides – I had sap to rinse out of my system.

Numou was still snorting on the floor when I crouched down beside him, resting my chin on my palm.

“So, how was that?” I asked.

He groaned.

“I can get a fork this time,” I joked.

He laughed harder, and gave me a weak punch in the leg. I helped him up. Which was weird, because I usually don’t help people up – I’m usually the one tripping them.

Once he sat back against the wall, still wheezing, I let a few seconds pass. Just enough time for the dust to settle. Then, real casual-like, I stood up, put my hands behind my back, and rocked my heels.

“So,” I said, with a little eyebrow waggle, “you’re just gonna let your date go home for the night without showing him your DVD collection?”

He looked up at me, blinking. “…What?”

I grinned wider. “You heard me.”

He narrowed his red eyes, but he was still pink in the cheeks. “I don’t have a DVD collection.”

I gave him a little tilt of my head. Real slow. “…Numes.”

“What?”

“You do have a DVD collection. I’ve seen the shelf. Next to the scrolls. Underneath the weird shrunken head.”

He hesitated. “Okay… so? Do you want to see a movie, or something?”

I stepped closer and gave him a wink. Looked him right in the eye. “Numes. I’m not actually talking about the DVD collection, pal.”

His fox ears twitched. I gently tapped the spellbook with my foot. “So what do you say? Wanna imp-ress me, or are you just gonna leave me hanging?”

He looked at the book. Then at me. Then back to the book.

And I could see the battle happening inside of him. The muttered grumbling. The grouchy little imp was back. The look on his face said, “why am I even bothering to humour him?” But he didn’t tell me to shut up. He didn’t shove me through the portal. He didn’t threaten me with hellfire or try to glue my feet to the ceiling.

He stood up, picking the spellbook up off of the floor. He started walking towards the mostly-completed portal gate, but then he stopped dead in his tracks.

He turned around, and looked at me again.

“…What did you want to see?” He asked, in a somewhat low volume.

I smiled. “Something flashy. Something fun. I’m not trying to imp-pose or anything. Just try to imp-ress me. I’m not imp-atient. Just imp-rovise.”

He scowled at me so hard. But I could tell the difference between his different scowls now. This one was the good kind.

“One more imp pun, and I’m turning you into a frog.”

My smile was a full-on grin now. “A frog? So you can kiss me to turn me back to my normal self?” I did the eyebrow waggle again.

I saw that blush of his returning. The scowl remained. “I’m never turning you back. You’re going right into the witch’s cauldron. I’ll hold you down myself, even if it scalds my hands.”

I kept grinning. “You don’t know any witches, do you?”

A pause. A pout. A curl of his tail. “…I can look in the phonebook.”

Numou

A frog. So I can kiss him.

If anyone else had said that to me, I would’ve punched them in the face. Or maybe a swipe with my claws, to make it bleed more.

He was lucky I didn’t know how to turn him into a frog. Because I didn’t need the witch. I had my own cauldron. It’s great for making stew to last me for the week. Actually, now that I thought about it, I didn’t even need to turn him into a frog first. It was big enough; I could’ve just stuffed him in there.

But it was too late. My tail betrayed me again. He knew exactly what he was doing. He didn’t just have me open like my spellbook; he was reading between the lines on the pages, and slowly tracing his finger while he did so, because he knew how much it would make me squirm.

So he got me. My book was already open, so I might as well just give him what he wants.

I walked away, and sat down on the floor a fair distance from the coffee table. I crossed my legs, and plopped the spellbook in front of me. For the thousandth time that day, I sighed. “You want to see magic? Fine. I’ll show you a basic rune-link spell. It’s stupid simple.”

I snapped my fingers, and as if there was a flint between them, the claw on my middle finger lit up with a blue flame. I knelt forward, moving the book out of the way to draw a glowing circle into the stone floor with my claw.

I could feel him watching me. Not like a hawk, or a thief, or anything. Just… watching me. Curiously. It was that look of optimism. The kind that makes me cringe. The kind I used to set people up with before I disappointed them.

My pulse was already too high. The line wobbled. I mumbled to myself: “Don’t blink.”

I chanted under my breath.

Fizzle.

The glyph sparked, twitched, and then died. Gone out like a birthday candle.

“Okay, that was…” I waved a hand. “That was interference. My concentration is – shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Yakko replied, not even trying to hide the grin spreading across his face.

“You breathed funny.”

Yakko

Oops, I did it again.

I played with his heart. I made him lose his game. I teased a little too hard, and now he was flustered. Nervous. Off balance.

“Wanna try something else?” I asked politely, pulling an apple out of my slacks. “Maybe you can cook this apple into a pie with that flame on your hand.” I tried my best reassuring smile.

“I’ll do you one better,” he replied, grabbing the apple from my hand. “I’ll freeze it. I can light things on fire in my sleep. Freezing is a lot more challenging.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then I heard him chanting. Yup, it sounded infernal enough to me. Kind of sounded like Swahili. I’d keep that comment to myself until after he was finished with the spell.

But then the apple lit on fire.

“Hey, you did it!” I said, about to give him a thumbs up. But then he just growled.

“No, I screwed it up again!” He smacked the now-baked apple away, and it went rolling towards the wall, where it stuck with a little squish.

I rubbed the back of my head. “Oh, well, uh…” I tried to think of something funny to say. “I can pull out my banana, if you’d like.” I made sure to tug on my slacks for added effect.

For a brief moment, I saw him smirk. I even heard the little exhale to go with it. But he wasted no time in covering it up again.

I mean, I did want to see him do some magic for me. But I also just wanted him to relax. I could see it. The walls were going up again. He was getting frustrated. His shoulders were all tense and his back was stiff. His tail was coiled, not curled in the good way.

Time to get back to work.

I cleared my throat. Coach voice activated.

“Alright son, let’s take it from the top! You’re looking tight, your form’s all off, and there’s enough tension in your shoulders to launch a catapault!” I gave him that weird shoulder-rub the coaches do in boxing movies. I was right – there was more tension in them than a garage door spring. And the touch just made him tense up even more. “Loosen up, breathe from the diaphragm, and – again!”

Numou shot me a look. Time to kick it up a notch.

I went into a drill sergeant voice. Even pulled out the Army hat.

“Atten-HUT! Listen up, imp-fox! You think you can be a demon?! How are you gonna shatter any bones if you can’t even shatter a FRUIT! Now, drop and give me twenty!”

I made him jump. Oops. Maybe I should’ve went with something quieter. He still needed to stretch those muscles though, so I just kept leaning into it. “Push-ups, imp-fox! Now!”

I don’t think he knew what to do, but to my amusement, he did, in fact, drop and start doing some push-ups. Heh.

I pivoted into my next voice, putting on my best exaggerated British accent.

“And here we see the rare, nervous imp in his natural habitat, attempting some sort of odd mating ritual. His tail is coiled, presenting the tush for display for any other imps that may pass by.”

I could hear the snerk before he fell down flat on the floor.

“Shut up!” He said, clearly trying his best to hold in a few laughs, but he wasn’t doing a great job. He rolled back over onto his back, then sat up again, grabbing his tail and tried to stuff it under a shoulder as if it would make any difference whatsoever. “…You’re so weird!”

I extended my index finger. “Actually, I prefer the term zany. Or, even, totally insane-y.”

I kind of forgot that he’d never seen my show, so I don’t think the joke landed. He still did a little smirk, though. Oh well, it was something.

I let him sit there for a second, before continuing on. “Well, Numes? Do you wanna give it another try?”

He inhaled through his black nose and then nodded. That was definitely an improvement. “Alright, apple me,” he said, with a look of confidence on his muzzle.

I could’ve responded with a joke or a fun gag, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment. I just pulled out another apple from my slacks and handed it to him without any fanfare.

I could see him get farther this time. I could see a little bit of that frost-steam coming from the apple – the stuff you see when you open up a freezer, or when it’s forty below outside and your snot turns into icicles before it even hits the ground.

But just as it looked like he was about to pull it off – he did it again. He tensed up. There was a twitch of his back, and his tail coiled. The apple didn’t even catch fire this time. It just… fizzled.

The frown on his face was less of a scowl this time, and more of something you would see on a little kid’s face that just dropped their ice cream on the ground. The look of defeat.

“Forget it, this was a stupid idea,” He growled, pouting and crossing his arms.

Nope. I wasn’t letting it go that easy.

I narrowed my eyes and leaned forward.

“Oh no,” I gasped, like a paramedic about to lose his patient. “It’s worse than I thought!”

Numou glanced back at me, confused.

“Pulse’s fading, confidence levels dropping, magical aura in critical condition!”

I began making the sound of a defibrillator charging. “Bweeeeeeee^eeeeeeeepp…”

He took one step back. “What are you doin—”

“CLEAR!”

And I pounced.

V

Numou

I hate being touched.

One second I’m bracing for another stupid joke, the next second I’m on my back, flailing under an ambush of gloved fingers jabbing into my ribs and sides. I’m not sure why I didn’t turn him into Yakko-Crisp the moment he laid his grubby… glove-y… little hands on me. Probably something to do with the fact that I couldn’t even cast a simple frost spell before that. And now, I was getting my senses assaulted. Even though I can cast fire spells in my sleep, if I had done so now, I would’ve ended up burning down the living room. The Yakko-Crisp could wait until I could at least aim again.

“W-WAIT-!”

Nope. No waiting.

I squeaked. Not proud of it. But it happened. I couldn’t put it back in the bottle. So I did the next best thing I could to try to keep my dignity.

I tried to hold in the laughter.

He kept poking around, playing my ribs like a xylophone. I couldn’t stop myself from doing the squirming and the wiggling, but I could stop myself from giving him the verbal response he was looking for.

At least, I thought I could.

Then he did another voice. A really stupid one this time. They were all stupid, but this one was the dumbest. The Mortal Kombat voice.

He stopped poking and let me lay on the floor for a second. “Fatality,” he said, voice deep and full of turbo cringe. (I really hate that voice. It’s never funny. It reminded me of when I discovered the internet in the early 2000s. It was worse than the Hampster Dance.)

Then, just as I thought I was spared…

“…Tickle him!” It was the voice again. No. AWFUL. CRINGE! NOOOO!

He pounced, a second time.

I couldn’t hold it in that time.

He just went right for it. The full monty. Those stupid white gloves scribbling up and down against not only my sides, but under my arms, across my stomach, and around my neck. He even did this awful spider thing where he crawled his fingers up my spine.

I hated the feeling. It felt weird. It tingled. It didn’t feel like pain. It felt… funny. But it didn’t feel good. It just felt. And I couldn’t get it to stop.

I didn’t just squeak this time. I screamed. I squealed. I flailed around so hard that I nearly hurt myself on the stone floor. It all came pouring out, no matter how hard I tried to cover my mouth – he would just tickle under my arms and get me to pull away. I laughed, pure, unfiltered, uncensored laughter. I even mixed some good swearing in with it, but it didn’t matter. It was exactly what he was looking for. What he was poking around for, literally. There was less choking in my stream of laughter this time, maybe because he already had me loosened up. He was going back for seconds, and I was giving him the full buffet.

He went on for quite some time. I hated him, but I can’t say I could blame him. I mean, if you spent years looking for lost treasure in a cave, and then you finally found it, would you just grab the biggest piece of gold and leave with just that? No. You’d dig around, clean it out, and you’d leave with not a single coin unaccounted for.

I hated him, but I probably would’ve done the same thing.

That doesn’t mean I liked it. It’s my job to be hypocritical. Imps are there to dish it out, not take it. I still hate being touched.

But at least he didn’t touch my tail.

So I let him live.

For now.

Yakko

Okay, so maybe I didn’t technically need to tickle him to death. Maybe I didn’t technically need to do it a second time, either. But when I saw him flailing around like a malfunctioning puppet – when I heard that squeal – I just might have kept going on longer than absolutely necessary.

But come on. I had all this sap to clean out of my system. I mean, I offered him a hug. Like I said before, I try to keep my free hug balance at zero whenever possible. If you’re taking out a loan on it, you’re gonna pay a lot of interest. I had to balance the scales.

What do you mean, he didn’t even take the hug? I had to teach the imp a lesson.

And besides…

He loved it.

Oh sure, he tried to hide it. He fought tooth and claw, clenching his teeth, twisting his tail, trying to hold it all in like a shaken-up soda can. But I could tell. You don’t squeal-laugh like that if you’re not having at least some fun. That was not the sound of suffering. That was the sound of somebody getting ambushed by joy and having no idea where it came from. I wasn’t just making him laugh.

I was rewiring him.

I’m certain he had centuries of cobwebs to clean out of his lungs, anyway. His vocal chords were probably out of warranty, too. So I was doing a little percussive maintenance on an imp. Like hitting a TV that’s losing its signal. Except instead of hitting it, you’re… uh… just being a little lighter with your hands.

But there it was. Pure, unfiltered hysteria, leaking out in wheezes and squeals, and every time he covered his mouth to try and stop it, I’d just tickle under his arms and force him to pull away again. Like a really fun game of whack-a-mole with a little hellspawn demon.

Er… not fun. Just, uh, therapeutic. Wait, that’s not the word, either. Uh…

It was… a good distraction. Again, from the sap. Yeah.

So, I eventually let him breathe. Not because I was tired. I had plenty left in the tank. But imps are like nitroglycerin, you know. The longer I went, the more likely I was to blow us both up in a huge fireball. So, I stopped. Health and Safety regulations, etc.

I gave him a little space, leaning against the wall, with my arms behind my head, and one leg crossed over the other.

“Phew,” I said, mock-wiping my brow. “You’re a lot of work, pal. But you’re worth the labor.”

He was curled up on the floor like a chewed-up blanket, trying to get his tail back in order and reclaim whatever was left of his dignity. His cheeks were red. His chest was heaving. His fur was all floofed up like someone had rubbed a balloon on him.

He looked great.

…Er, I mean. It was a great look for him. Just the aesthetic. Chewed-up dog toy is a good look for imps.

Anyway.

He finally sat up, wiping his eyes. He didn’t glare at me, though. Probably figured that was what I wanted him to do. And, you know, he’d be right. But he did something better than that.

With a mix of a grunt and a growl, he just said: “You’re evil.”

The grin on my face started slowly, but just kept getting wider and wider.

“That’s the highest possible praise you can get from an imp,” I said, looking right at him.

“I hate you,” he grumbled. “I hate you so much. Burn in hell.”

I kept that smirk on in full-force. “Numes…” I paused for dramatic effect. “…you’re the only one burning right now.”

I saw his head shake as the steam built up inside of him. I was expecting him to turn his neck a full 180 degrees away from me. Hey, the demons in the horror movies can do it, so why can’t he?

But what he did instead was so much better.

He covered his face. With both hands.

Aww. Can we keep him?

Numou

I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him.

I hate him. H-A-T-E him. With a cherry bomb on top. And some C4. And maybe a nuclear bomb.

That’s it. As soon as I recovered my energy, he was getting shoved through the portal. Or thrown out the window. Or flushed down my toilet. You think human sewers are bad? Don’t even get me started on the ones down here.

I didn’t want to look at him. I refused. I covered my eyes. I knew exactly the face he was making, and he was going to wear it for as long as possible.

But I couldn’t let him. I needed to rearrange it. Painfully, if necessary. Eventually, I took my hands away from my face and I stomped over in his direction. I gave him the biggest, foulest scowl I could scramble together. And before I even had a chance to think about which side of his face I wanted to maul him from, my mouth spoke for me.

“Give me another damn apple,” I huffed. “And the banana.”

His smirk changed to this awful mock-blush thing. I hated it even more than the smirk.

“Aww, Numes… I didn’t think you wanted to… It’s all so sudden…” he said in this revolting high-pitched voice.

I just snarled through my clenched teeth. “Not. That. God. Damn. Banana.”

Thankfully, he cut the crap and pulled both an apple and a banana out for me.

Now, with a more neutral (but still somewhat smiling) face, he added, “want a strawberry, too?” I thanked the hells he didn’t say ‘raspberry’.

I just nodded, teeth still clenched, holding out my free hand for him to drop the strawberry into.

He watched as I grabbed all three of the fruits and put them in a stack on the floor. I sat down in front of them, clutching my spellbook for dear life, as if it would somehow protect me from his continued tormenting. He only gave me about ten seconds before the wisecracking began again.

“…You gonna make a smoothie?”

I refused to look at him. I focused entirely on the spell.

“Yes,” I growled. “With ice.”

“Aww,” he teased again, “How romant—”

I interrupted him as fast as I possibly could. “Finish that sentence, and I’m adding in blood. Toon blood.”

That shut him up. I like to think it surprised him a bit, but it probably just gave him another huge smirk to wear. I didn’t look.

I just cast the damn spell.

I wasn’t actually planning on making a smoothie. I was actually going to do a necromancy spell. Animate the fruits, double them in size a few times, and then let them eat him.

But he messed me up.

I don’t know how it happened. I conjured up a large glass, then without even thinking about it, I cast the frost spell into it, and it filled up with tiny ice cubes. Then I cast the frost spell on the apple, and with my other hand, diced it up with some telekinesis. Then I did the same for the banana. And the strawberry. Then I put them all together in the glass, and just… looked at it.

Everything inside of it started spinning. Just kept going and going. It wasn’t a blender cup. It was just a cup. But I blended it.

I blended it hard.

To smithereens.

There was no loud blender noises. No pulsing cycle at the end.

They were just blended. Like that.

Like magic.

Yakko

I stood there, quietly watching as the imp conjured the universe’s first hellforged smoothie with the kind of intensity you’d usually reserve for summoning an elder god. His eyes were narrowed. His hands were glowing. His tail was still twitching, but now it looked like it was wagging a little. Just a little.

And the weird part?

It was beautiful.

There, I said it. Lock me up. Toss me in the sentimentality jail and throw away the key. The bars are made of warm fuzzy feelings and the warden is a Care Bear. Whatever.

But there was something kind of amazing about watching him finally just do it. Just… do something. Effortlessly. No fizzles, no fireballs, no yelling. Just clean precision. All that power, all that control, all that frustration finally poured (heh) into something that actually worked. And I swear to you, if you listened closely, you could hear a tiny orchestra singing in the background. (Okay, that part was probably just in my head. Maybe.)

I stepped a little closer, still leaning in my usual goofy pose, but quieter now. “You know,” I said, “if you added some protein powder to that, you’d be a whole gym rat in no time.”

He didn’t reply. He just lifted the glass.

“Okay…” I added. “Gym fox, sorry.”

I braced myself for him to throw the smoothie in my face. That felt like the natural conclusion. But he didn’t.

He looked down at it for a moment, then… took a sip.

He drank it. And then… he made a face.

Not a bad one. Not like he hated it. Just like he didn’t quite know what to do with the taste. It was probably too sweet, for a bitter imp like himself.

He glanced up at me, and for the first time since I met him, his face wasn’t hiding anything. No sneer, no snarl, not even any mischief. Just him.

I smiled. A real one this time. No smirk, no punchline.

“I knew you could do it,” I said softly.

I didn’t pull any bologna out of my pants. No zingers. Nothing. Just that.

And maybe… just maybe… he believed me.

“It’s not the best smoothie I ever tasted,” he said to me, suddenly. “But did you want to try it?”

He held the cup out to me. I could have just held it myself, like a normal person, but for some reason, I took a sip from it directly. I swished it around in my mouth for a moment, like I was at a fine wine tasting. I smacked my lips.

“Hmmm. Not bad,” I said with a nod. “But I think it would’ve tasted better if you had added… the toon blood.” I smirked.

He smirked, too. “It would have. But I wanted to try and go for your soul instead.”

There we go.

‘Atta boy.

Numou

We finished the god damned smoothie. Both of us. I hated how sweet it was.

And I hated how sweet he was. To me. The whole time. Since he arrived.

Because… it made me feel good.

And the last time I felt good, I got stabbed in the back. And the time before it. And the time before it.

But - because I never learn - because he couldn’t go anywhere until I built that portal for him… I just leaned right into it.

So I kept entertaining him. I started playing along with his jokes. I made him lunch. It was nothing special – I just used a few things I had in the icebox to throw together a quick hellfire stew. I think it was a little too spicy for him. He was breathing fire a lot. Literally. Because of course he was.

I showed him that DVD collection, too. He even asked if we could watch a movie. I asked him how much his siblings were probably panicking about him back home. He insisted it would be fine. He said something about Wakko probably doing some stress eating, but Dot having full confidence in him being okay. So we watched something.

All Dogs Go To Heaven, actually. It was his suggestion, not mine. He said he thought it would be funny and ironic. I hate the messaging in that movie, but I agreed to watch it anyway, because it has a really nice Hell scene that always makes me feel funny. I’m glad I was still wearing my sweatpants.

Uh, anyway. While we were watching the movie, he managed to convince me to sit beside him on the couch. He said otherwise it was like having dinner with someone across the length of a buffet table. When he explained it like that, I was a bit more receptive of it. I still didn’t let him touch me though. Although, I think he may have leaned up against me during the scene near the end of the movie when Charlie goes up to Heaven. I don’t really know why he did that. Maybe it was because I started grumbling about angels at that point.

Once the credits started rolling, we chatted a bit more. No big trauma dumping this time, just some pleasant chitchat. I asked him about his friends, his siblings, and where he lived. He said he lived in a place called Burbank. He asked me about the imp mailroom. I explained to him that I never actually worked in an imp mailroom. There were probably a few around, but I told him the job I had was a little more “hands-on”. That’s all he needed to know. I think he got the message, because he changed the subject after that.

“Where’d you get those doubloons from, by the way?” Yakko asked me with a smile on his face.

“Oh, a pirate ship, of course,” I replied. “Except it was in the air.” I’m glad he asked me. I was quite fond of that haul.

“In the air, you say?” he looked at me curiously.

“Yeah,” I replied, “I didn’t ask too many questions. It wasn’t too much different from a pirate ship on the water. I did find it strange how much the crew looked like me, though.”

His ears perked. “Imp pirates?”

I smiled. “Nah, just animals. Big muzzles and black noses. Lots of different species. I think the captain was a wolf.”

“Interesting. So how did flying-wolf-Blackbeard react to an imp magically showing up on his ship?” he asked.

I chuckled. “It wasn’t Blackbeard, but the captain was pretty cu—” I quickly corrected myself, “uh, clever… his sailors were a bunch of wimps, though.”

He laughed. “No match against your imp magic, huh?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t even need to use it against most of them. They just ran around yelling. I think half of them were drunk. Luckily, they had lots and lots of rope laying around. So I took care of them.”

He smirked. “And the captain?”

I couldn’t help but smirk in return. I may also have had a teeny-tiny little blush. “…Let’s just say, I had a good laugh. And so did he.”

Yakko gave me a little nudge with his elbow. “I knew it. You have an entire chapter in your spellbook dedicated to tickle magic, don’t you?” he joked.

I looked away from him to try and hide the growing blush on my face. But he definitely saw it.

“No way,” I said, trying to stifle a giggle, “…maybe just a page or two.”

“Mmhmm.”

Eventually, the credits finished rolling, and we sat there for a few more minutes, enjoying the silence as the credit music ended and the screen went black. He may have tried to lean up against me a little bit more. I may have let him.

After that, it was probably three in the afternoon. Yakko got up from the couch, yawned, and then came the part I was bracing myself for all day. But I was prepared this time.

“Alright, Numes. I think it’s time. I really need to get going,” he said while stretching. “Wakko’s probably eaten through every fridge in the studio by now. You ready to get that portal up and running?”

I just nodded. “Yeah,” I said simply. “I’m ready when you are.”

I walked him over to the portal gate in the corner of the room. I didn’t waste any time. I wanted to rip the band-aid off. Just get it over with. So I turned it on right away.

The gate spun around a bit on its axis, then the runes went from a dull red to a bright green. A green hellfire vortex appeared and sucked a bit of the air out of the room. Nothing major, mostly all just visual effect. Then the wormhole part appeared, and I could see the distorted view of some brick wall through it. There it was. The alleyway he was talking about.

“So this is it, then, huh?” I said weakly, looking at him for a moment, then looking down onto the floor.

He nodded. “Yeah, pal. This is it.”

I turned away from him and walked towards the center of the room, away from the portal. I couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Fine then,” I choked. “Just go. Get it over with.”

I heard him standing there for a moment. In the corner of my eye I saw him reach a hand out.

“Hey. Before I go.” He said calmly.

I still didn’t look at him.

“I meant it, you know.”

“Meant what?” I asked, my voice still choked up.

“That hug,” he said, in that dangerously serious voice with no follow-up jokes whatsoever. “The offer’s still on the table. One for the road?”

My fox ears drooped. So did my tail. I slouched over. I looked pathetic.

“…No,” I whimpered. “Because then…” I said, trying to hold back tears. “…then that’ll just make the pain last longer.”

“Aww, Numes…” he said, taking a step towards me. “Don’t say that.”

My ears perked, just a bit. I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Y’know…” I whimpered, my voice now more wobbly than ever. “I never actually thought I’d make a real friend from the mortal world.”

His head cocked just a bit.

“After that cat guy was here and reaffirmed everything I thought I knew about people… down here, up there, or otherwise - you showed up.” I turned my head just to get a quick look at him, my eyes glistening and welled up. “You with your jokes and your stupid pants and your big head and your floppy ears. And – hic! – you made me feel like maybe, maybe I wasn’t just some bottom-of-the-barrel burnout from the… imp mailroom…”

“Hey,” he called out, beginning to walk over to me now. “…Are you okay?”

I let the snot run out of my black fox nose. I did a little sob, a little weeping noise. “Y…Yeah… I’ll be okay… just… Yakko?”

He looked at me with the most precious eyes I had seen since his arrival. No mischief. No ulterior motives.

Because that was my job.

“Yeah, pal?” He asked.

I finally whimpered out, just about to bawl all over him. “C’mere.”

“Aww, Numes, don’t cry…” he said, stepping close to me, raising an arm to – I assume - pat my back, or rub my shoulder, or whatever else it is that nice people do when they’re trying to console some sniveling sap.

But Yakko was the real sap.

CLICK.

VI

Yakko

The waterworks. He brought out the waterworks.

Look, I’m not saying I’m too much of a sap, but when a guy with pointy ears, gloomy eyes, and cute little horns, starts looking all trembly-lipped and lonely? The guy who just made you lunch and watched cartoons with you on the couch? You lean in. You listen.

You absolutely do not expect the next part.

I heard the click. To be honest, I didn’t even think anything of it. I thought maybe it was just some ambient sound. Or I stepped on a loose stone in the floor. Or maybe it was roof of his little house creaking.

Nope.

I felt my legs lock up before anything else. I was still in the middle of reaching towards Numou, and I nearly tripped over my own legs. It took me a second to even register what was going on.

But then I saw the rug beneath me start to glow. And then a rune appeared. The imp’s tears dried up faster than a vampire at sunrise. The smirk returned. That beautiful, awful, evil little smirk.

The smirk of a devil.

“Gotcha,” he whispered.

He snapped his fingers, and the portal fizzled. Shut down. Vanished before my eyes.

This was it. I was a goner. I got imped. I got the bad ending in an old Amiga point-and-click.

“You hesitated at the exit. Now you belong to the imp forever. Insert Disk 7 to cry about it.”

I was now going to be a part of the evil demon’s collection. My soul was going to be harvested out of me as slowly as possible, sucked out with the same straw we had just used to share a smoothie together. You know. Just to rub it in. Just to prove how sappy I was.

This is why I normally don’t do sap. It never gets you anywhere. At best, it just makes you sad. At worst… it gets you in trouble. Just like this.

The trap rune hadn’t frozen my face, but it might as well have. I had it locked in this dumbfounded expression. Complete surprise. Shock. My eyes were wide. I would say all the color left my face, but there’s already no color in my face.

And that’s where I thought my story would end.

But it didn’t.

Because my captor was possibly the softest demon of all time. But it would just be mean to say that to his face. He had a good evil laugh, though. He almost had me worried for a second.

Just a second.

Numou

There’s a certain joy in being underestimated.

Especially when the loudmouth doing the underestimating has been dancing around your nerves like a caffeinated gremlin for the better part of an afternoon.

I’d had it all set up hours ago – a lovely little binding rune that I etched into the floor with obsidian chalk. Remember when I got him to fetch the broom for me? I gave him the wrong closet. The one with all the junk in it. The one that would take him a few minutes to look through.

Just enough time for me to put a rug over it.

All I needed was the right moment to spring it.

I could’ve activated it at any time. He was in the living room with me for most of the day. But I wanted the moment to be special.

Heartwarming.

Vulnerable.

And you know what? I’ll admit it. I was only partially pretending to cry. Everything I said? About thinking I’d never make another friend? That he was different? Made me feel special? Made me feel like I wasn’t another bottom-of-the-barrel imp reject?

It was all true. Right down to the floppy ears and the stupid pants.

His pants are really stupid.

And I wouldn’t have him any other way.

Now, here was. Nearly spreadeagle in front of me. Unable to move an inch. I could tell he was tugging on his invisible binds; I could see his muscles flexing. It was cute.

“N… Numes?” He said weakly to me, as if he still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

I leaned forward. I put my face right up to his. Our noses were nearly touching. Black fox nose to weird red clown nose. That little flicker of evil imp buried deep in the back of my mind still had a few embers.

And it felt amazing.

But, I only wanted to tease him a bit. Torment him a bit. Make him squirm, a b— well a lot, actually. I didn’t want to traumatize him.

So I spilled the beans as early as I could.

“Relax, toon boy. I’m not gonna keep you here forever. I’ll turn the portal back on for you later.”

I could see the relief run through his face and down through his body. His muscles loosened, and I could feel the breath of his exhale right over my wet nose. And to be honest, I felt a little relief, too. Hey, I said that flicker of inner evil imp was in the back of my mind, not the front.

But I knew within a matter of seconds that he had already sprung back mentally, because he was already coming up with his next little zinger to poke me with. I saw that little smile returning.

“That’s a real shame, Numes,” he said, his voice now a little stronger; more healthy sounding. “Because I’m sure you have a lot of fun torture spells you wanna show me. More than what you can fit in just one evening.”

“Oh, I do,” I said, giving him a little smirk in return, “but I just want to make us even. You did a lot of teasing today that you’re gonna have to pay for. A lot of picking. I can’t have you crack through all these centuries of emotional armor and just let you get away with it.”

I could hear him chuckle. Good. He was being a good sport about it.

“And I think I know just where to start,” I added. “Something simple. Something that I know will make you squirm. Payback for that tickle attack earlier.”

I saw his back arch and stiffen. But he was still smiling. “So you are gonna show me that tickle magic chapter in your spellbook, aren’t you?”

I grinned and gave his nose a little nudge with my own. “Nah. I told you earlier. I’m more of a ‘hands-on’ kind of imp.” I splayed my hands and wiggled my claws for effect.

I saw a shiver go up his spine, and I hadn’t even touched him yet. Perfect.

“Sorry Numes, but you’re gonna be disappointed,” he tried to deflect. “I’m not ticklish.”

“I saw you shiver, you little gremlin,” I teased.

“There’s a bit of a draft in here,” he replied. “And these rune bindings are a bit chilly.”

“You know,” I cooed, “challenging me is dangerous.”

“…And fun,” he added. “Maybe a bit of both.”

I gave his nose another light press with my own. “That’s the spirit.”

I pulled my nose away from his face and turned around, my back facing him. I tapped my claws together for dramatic effect.

“Now,” I began, “There’s just one more thing I need to tell you about us imps.”

“And what’s that?” He asked.

“We have this saying… If someone gets you, you get them back.” I paused for dramatic effect. “…Tenfold.”

That’s when he cooed. Back at me. I’m supposed to be the one doing that. “Aww, I’m flattered you want to spend so much time with me,” he said in a teasing voice. “What’d that little tickle attack put me at, then? An hour? A couple hours?”

Even on the rack, even when he’s cornered… he still just has to tease. That’s alright. Two can play at that game.

“Oh, Yakko,” I said in a little sing-songy voice. “I have to take into account everything else, too. All the jokes. All the pestering. All the times you made me curl my tail.”

“I don’t mind a sleepover,” he said without missing a beat. “We already did the ‘talk about our feelings’ part. Now we just need to paint each other’s nails and stay up way past our bedtimes.”

I respected his commitment to the bit.

“Well, we might end up doing one of those things,” I said with a smile.

He cocked his head, since he was still able to move his neck freely.

“Oh?” he asked, “you gonna go with the black nail polish? You know, to match with the sweatpants. And the undies.”

I chuckled. “You know I meant the other thing.”

He smirked at me, but there was a little less confidence in his voice this time. A tinge of uncertainty. “How long are we talking, here?”

“We’re pulling an all-nighter,” I said with a grin.

He yawned. Visibly. “I’ve done longer nights getting chased around the water tower.”

The smile on my face soon turned into a little frown. Just a tiny one. He was good.

“…With interest,” I said, “it’ll be at least a few days.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “I’ve done longer TV marathons.”

My frown grew larger. “…Well then,” I said, “you’ll be pleased to know that the rune timer is very sensitive to loud sounds. Like screaming. Or laughter. It’s been known to reset if you squeal loudly enough.”

He gulped. There it was. Gott’em.

He opened his mouth to say something, so I mockingly put a finger on his mouth. “Ssshh. Save your breath. You’ll need it,” I teased. “We’re gonna have a fun weekend.”

After his eyes widened, I pulled my finger away from his face to let him reply.

“Wait…” he said, with just a little bit of whimper in his voice, “…what day is it down here, again?”

I smiled at him. My smile grew into a full-on grin; a toothy and sharp one.

“It’s Tuesday.”

He gulped, again.

He started rattling off some fast-talking, car salesman speak as he tried to bargain with me. It was like background noise to me at this point, though. I filtered it out. If I did my job right, it would be replaced with something else very soon.

And I will admit, he put in a good effort.

Once it was clear that the negotiating tactics weren’t going to work on me, he resorted to trying something I don’t think he ever did willingly – staying quiet.

As soon as my fingers made contact with his body, he flinched. Then he started flailing around, uselessly, partially frozen by the rune. He had one arm that he hadn’t raised yet, and I could see his hand do a gesture, trying to bat away my grubby black paws. I just chuckled and grabbed his arm by the wrist, putting it into position above his head. I could see him biting down on his lip to try and hold something in. Was it a yelp? A gasp? A joke? Probably all three.

“What’s the problem, Yakko?” I asked teasingly, “fox got your tongue?”

I could hear him grunting a bit as he struggled with his binds. “Y-your hands are so cold!”

I chuckled as I flexed my fingers a bit. “Mhmm. I kept that frost spell lingering. Just for you, pal.” I made sure to slowly trace my fingers along his ribs as I spoke, and I could see him shiver as he squirmed. It was adorable.

“Nyyeehh—!” He grunted again. “C-cold!”

I stepped behind him and began carefully dragging a single finger right down his spine. Then I brought in a second. Then I brought in my other hand.

“As ice?” I asked with a smirk.

He shivered even more this time, and he arched his back with a noticeable and satisfying curl. Of course, the magic rune corrected his form after a few seconds, making his back straighten right back into my icy little claws. I did a little evil snicker just to make it tease that much more.

“Nnrrgh—! N-not fair—!” He strained against the binds again, still shivering as I danced my fingers up and down his back.

Just the squirmy movement and the strained grunts and growls were satisfying on their own, but him and I both knew that I wouldn’t be done with him until I heard a lot more than that. So it was time to kick it up a notch.

I switched to a full-on skittering over his back with one hand, and then used my other to tickle at his stomach and sides. He did a fun little yo-yo squirming back and forth, and I made sure to start with alternating which hand was touching him at any given time, so that it felt more like he was squirming himself into each tickling hand.

That was when he started to crack. A few loud snickers, and a few little squeaks that found their way out. But he kept trying to hold it in.

So I brought both hands together in a relentless attack, scribbling over his belly and spine simultaneously, and even making sure I squeezed just a little bit, for added effect.

The squeaks got more frequent, and the half-chuckles became more like three-quarter chuckles, then lead into even longer-lasting giggles. He kind of sounded like a kettle building up pressure. The kettle was starting to whistle.

It was time, now, to start the teasing.

“Careful, Yakko,” I began, “if you go into a full on squeal-attack, you might just trip up the rune timer. It can be quite… sensitive at times.” I made sure to spider my fingers right across his ribs as I stressed the word ‘sensitive’.

That was when I heard his first full squeal.

“Eh—! EhhHEEEEE—! N-noooo—aahAAAAH—!” He started to squeal out loud, with the squeals turning into choked laughs as they came out.

My fox ears perked at the sound, so I decided to keep the tease going. “Beep, beep… is that the sound of the rune timer, I hear?”

He started to growl a little bit between squeaks and laughs. Excellent. I was getting somewhere.

“Oh wait,” I said, beginning a mock-surprised tone, “That can’t be the rune timer… because I just realized…” I paused for some dramatic effect.

I could hear him audibly gulp as he waited for me to finish my sentence.

“…that I forgot to turn it on! Oops! Rookie mistake.” I went in front of him and looked right up at his face. I was really getting into it. Maybe a little too much. I just gave him a very impish smile.

“N-no, c’mon,” he started to say, “y-you’re bluffing…!”

I looked him straight in the eye, and kept my gaze there as I tapped my toe claws at the base of the rune, activating a visible digital timer that made a few beeps.

“Go ahead, toon boy. Look down,” I said. “The rune will let you.”

He slowly looked down, and his big cartoons eyes that were normally full of mischief and charm grew ever wider as he read the screen of the timer:

120:00:00

“NUMOU!! Y-you—! Evil little—! IMP—!” He stammered.

“Like I said,” I teased, “enjoy your weekend!”

With that, I did a nice little evil laugh to rub it in, and then I just went hog-wild. The tickling and scittering of my hands became random and unpredictable. I scribbled around whichever spot on his black fur was open for the taking, which was most of it, since he had no shirt or the like to protect his torso or even neck.

His squirming became thrashing, and his choked little chuckles became desperate hollers and cries. “NOOOOOOOOO—!”

Gott’em.

Yakko

After he turned that timer on, I started to panic. I know I just said he was soft earlier, but I really didn’t know what to make out of it. Maybe I was going to be his plaything for the next five days straight. I couldn’t really make a lot of conclusions, because my brain was too busy being overstimulated by my nerve endings.

When he went full tickle-attack all over my body, that was when I knew I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I was nearly screaming. I was laughing fully now, and all the giggles were coming out uninterrupted, squeaky, and completely hysterical.

The tingling and the tickling overwhelmed my senses. I couldn’t even insert my little jokes in between my desperate gasps for air, and squealy, messy, totally caught-off-guard, hysterical laughter. I should have kept trying to hold it in. I should have made him really work for that satisfaction. But he was really good at it. Too good at it. I couldn’t even think straight. Did I say that already? I was starting to get dizzy. He could hear it in my voice, too, or maybe he saw the look on my face, because he knew I kept messing up, and dropping my acting hat on the floor while I flailed around in his creepy spell rune.

“AHAA—! NUMOU! STOHOHOP!!” I tried to gasp between gulps of laughter.

“Nope,” he said very simply. “I haven’t felt this alive in centuries.”

Wow. What a card. I had to comment on that.

“Then— you n-need to— g-get out mo— heeHEEE—! M-moreeehee—!” I tried to spit out between laughs and gasps for air.

“You’re absolutely right,” Numou said with a nod, “maybe after I eventually let you go back home…” he dragged on while still digging his icy tickly claws across my torso, “…I might just have to pay you a surprise visit. I’ve been told that I make for a very good sleep paralysis demon.”

That time I let out a laugh that wasn’t a result of my nervous system being assaulted.

“HaHAA—!” I snickered, before my giggly and hard to control tickle-laughs returned, “No wah-AY—! Maybe a—ahaa—! Maybe a ti-ti-tickle monster demon—eheheeEEE! At m-most! Bwahahaa—!!”

“Hmm, that could work too,” he teased, now beginning to wrap his spaded imp tail slowly and tormentingly around my waist. He then used the tip of it to poke and gently scrape under my arms, and then he brought it down, using the grip of its length to pull the high waist of my slacks down just enough so he could get free access to my navel and abs. That was the worst part yet!

‘Wait, Yakko, you have abs?’ you ask? That was my reaction!! This guy was way too good at his job!

I really did try to make as much light out of the situation as I could, but it was really difficult. I thought maybe doing some more wisecracks would help provide my poor nervous system with some much-needed relief. But I could barely get out two sentences before that serpentine tail of his started circling right around those abs I apparently have, and that was it for me. I was doomed.

I let out a huge squeal. I even surprised myself with how loud it was. Real high-pitched, too. Exactly what the imp had been looking for.

“EEEEEEEEEHEHEHEEEEEEEEEP~!”

That was when he finally gave me a break.

He stopped his tickle assault and looked at me with the biggest, most impish evil grin imaginable. Then, he just put his hand in front of my face, and pointed downwards.

“Look what you did, Yakko.” He said calmly, still wearing the grin like a trophy.

I didn’t want to look. But I had to. I did what I was told. I looked down.

The digital readout of the timer was glitching around, with the numbers flashing and flickering. And then… after a few seconds…

120:00:00

That was it.

I just let out the most pathetic, whiney, desperate-sounding cry.

“NUMOU—! NOOOO—! AAAAAAHH—!” I wailed, and my cries soon turned back into hysterical laughter as he resumed his torture. His fingers were like spider legs, dancing over my sides, my ribs, under my arms, and even toward my neck, all while that evil snaky tail of his prospected for new places that would get the best reactions out of me.

I couldn’t see it anymore because my eyes were so welled up, but I could hear his smile. I could hear how elated he was. I just imagined those sharp demon fangs fully bearing, that forked tongue sticking out – actually he doesn’t have a forked tongue, sorry, again, it was hard to think – and that spaded tail just kept wagging and curling around while he did his weird, definitely practiced imp thing.

Maybe my brain was just totally fried with laughter and overstimulation, but in a really weird, messed up way, I was kind of happy that he was happy. Don’t get me wrong, I thought I was literally getting my soul tickled out of body. But I guess I thought, hey, if this is how I’m gonna go – I’m glad I made a grumpy little hermit imp happy along the way.

He did go on for quite a while. He would psych me out with breaks here and there, and let my eyes dry out long enough so I could see the timer on the floor. I knew it was all part of the scheme. When I would think I just spent like 3 hours squealing out of my mind, I would look down and see it was only maybe ten minutes or so.

And the worst part was, he knew I had a long battery. Not for laughing my soul out, but just in general. I’m a cartoon character - absolutely bursting with energy. And he was using it against me. My laughter stayed clear and hysterical for quite some time, and my squeaks and squeals were loud, of increasing octaves, and were absolutely music to his ears. It didn’t help that I would egg him on here and there. Not because I wanted him to keep going. I just couldn’t help myself. Little challenges like:

• “Is that the best you can do?” or,

• “You call this torture?” or,

• “You couldn’t tickle your way out of a wet paper bag!”

Of course, they often didn’t come out of my mouth with such clarity and confidence, but, I tried my best.

Eventually, though, the battery started to run dry. My laughter was being replaced with coughing and wheezing, my squeaks were turning into pathetic little whimpers, and my attempts at quips and zingers were just choked out random segments of words. It didn’t take long for him to pick up on this, and that was when he stopped to check on me. He went behind me, curling his tail around me just to tease, then he spoke softly into my ear.

“Alright, Yakkster,” he said in a soft but serious sounding tone, “you yielding? Or you gonna keep trying to taunt me, hmm?”

I just coughed, trying so hard to get the last word in, despite the fact I was literally just a pile of frazzled black fur and oversized pants.

“N…never… I… hic!” I coughed and hacked.

“Hey,” Numou said to me, trying to sound encouraging, “I admire your resolve, you little gremlin. Very respectable. But I’d rather not have to shampoo liquified toon out of my rug.” He gave me a soft smile.

I decided he was right, and now was the time to call it quits. I gave him a pathetic looking, weak nod, with an equally pathetic-sounding whimper. Near instantly, he tapped the rune on the floor with his feet, and the glow of the rune trap vanished immediately. I was unceremoniously dropped maybe half a foot onto that brown shag rug at my feet, and was just about to fall backwards onto the floor behind me, but the imp caught me by the shoulders, and slowly eased me down onto the couch behind me.

“Hey, easy now,” he said calmly, setting me onto the couch, before getting up and seating himself into the blue armchair across from me. With an incredibly smug and satisfied expression on his face, he looked me over with his demonic little red eyes.

What he saw was the scruffy, sweaty, frazzled remnants of a toon, eyes swirling, slouched back on the couch, with my slacks hanging loosely around my waist, and my normally white face was filled with almost complete red.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I just sat there, completely flopped, probably stripped of half my dignity, and with nothing funny or clever to follow up with. I could still feel a tingle throughout my body – like I just got all of my nerves deep-tissue massaged with the harshest TV static.

With my arms finally free, I wiped the tears from my eyes, just in time to see him scurry off to the kitchen. I thought maybe he was grabbing another trap or planning phase two of his villain arc. But no. He came back with a towel.

A warm towel.

You can’t make this stuff up. This guy just keeps getting better. I was in a spa now, not a demon’s lair.

He casually draped the towel over the back of my neck, then flopped back into the armchair across from me with a casual sigh. He didn’t gloat, he didn’t tease, he didn’t do a victory lap around the couch. I tried to speak. I opened my mouth, but then it just closed. My voice was somewhere in my knees, but I couldn’t feel my legs. I just wheezed.

Finally, he said something.

“You’ll live,” he said flatly, not daring to look me in the eye. “Do you need some water?”

…

…This guy.

VII

Numou

I just looked at him for minute, assessing the damages. He was sprawled on the couch, his head propped up on a cushion, with the towel I gave him sitting underneath his neck and shoulders. I asked him if he needed some water, but he didn’t answer. Hey, you gotta keep ‘em alive if you wanna keep tormenting them, right?

I knew he was fine, though, so I just kept looking at him. It was kind of satisfying, see him flopped there, fur frazzled, ears in a twist, laying back like he just got finished with a huge gym workout. For a moment, I considered giving him just one more poke in the side, just to hear that squeak again. But I think he was all squeaked out, so I just left him be. I got back up and went to the kitchen again, put some ice in a couple of glasses, and poured two glasses of water – one for him, and one for myself. Like I said, I got a little too into it; I worked up a bit of a sweat, okay?

I came back out to the living room and set his glass down on the coffee table. I figured he’d want at least a sip; he was pretty sweaty. Eventually, he pulled himself forward on the couch, sat up, looked at me, and then looked at the glass on the table. I just sipped my own water and gave him a little smile.

Er, I mean, a scow— you know what? Who am I kidding.

Yakko

I saw those fangs flash at me. It wasn’t that big, goofy, evil, grin he had earlier when he caught me in the trap. It was so much warmer than that. The little smile you give someone when you chuckle at their joke, give them a hug, or y’know, are just happy to see them. But then he saw that I saw him, and he went back to that Mr. “Ow the Edge” frown he seemed to wear most of the time.

What a gigantic dork. He even put ice in my glass. I still didn’t understand how there was ice down here, despite seeing his magic earlier. But my brain no longer had the energy for pondering such things.

I reached for the glass like I was eighty-seven years old and arthritic in every limb. My arm flopped once, twice, and finally made contact. I took the tiniest sip, felt the cold hit my throat like sweet salvation, and just about melted into the couch.

“…So,” I croaked, setting the glass back down with all the ceremony of someone lowering a priceless artifact onto velvet. “Not cut out for the imp mailroom, huh? Could’ve fooled me.” Somehow I had just enough giggles left in me to make a chuckle.

He didn’t respond. Just sipped his own water, watching me over the rim of the glass.

I cleared my throat. “That was, uh… innovative. Did you workshop that whole ‘rune trap’ thing or was it more of a spontaneous stroke of evil genius?”

Still nothing. He was good at this - at playing stoic. But I saw it. That twitch at the corner of his mouth. He was proud. Downright glowing inside, even if he’d rather stick a fork in a toaster than admit it.

“…I’m serious, Numes,” I said, leaning back again with a tired little smirk. “You got me good. Honestly, if I wasn’t already halfway to ghost town, I’d be plotting my revenge. But as it stands, I can’t feel most of my fingers, so you’re safe. For now.”

To be honest, revenge wasn’t in the forecast for me, not today. But of course, I wasn’t going to tell him that. I had gathered enough of my scattered brain to realize that the last thing I wanted was to get caught up in a prank war against an odd, touch-starved, hermit demon who was probably several centuries older than myself. Not in his dimension, anyway – it wasn’t safe. Not because I actually thought he was dangerous or anything, but because down here, there was a non-zero chance that he could turn that trap rune back on, and decide to never turn it back off. I couldn’t risk it – “Tickle Hell” was NOT in my retirement plans for the rest of eternity. Back on my home turf – where I knew my territory – would be the best option.

But it would have to wait, for now.

Numou looked at me with just the tiniest look of concern in his eyes. “Do you want me to get that portal going for you again, Yakko?” he asked.

I shook my head. I was exhausted. “Do you mind if I just nap on your couch for a little bit?”

He chuckled. “Feel free. I’ll just be over here, reading my spellbook. Hopefully it doesn’t give me too many ideas.” He gave me a little wink.

“I better not wake up upside down,” I said with a light laugh, while stretching and yawning.

“No promises,” he snickered.

I sprawled out on the couch, and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.

Numou

He was out for at least an hour. I brought out a blanket for him and put it over top of him, and he reflexively snuggled up with it in his sleep.

I felt like I was looking at a presumably very rare sight. I had only known Yakko for part of a day, but he seemed like the type that could literally bounce off of walls for 12 hours straight, so I must’ve done quite a number on him. I was kind of proud of myself, in a twisted way. I was a little worried I pushed him too hard earlier, but he was egging me on right up until he was wheezing his lungs out, so – I think he was having a good time. Besides… the little home invader deserved it. No one makes me curl my tail and walks out of my place without a few scars to show for it.

While he snoozed, I cleaned up a bit. I washed up the coffee mugs and the dishes from lunch, and when I noticed I was short a spoon, I couldn’t help but start giggling. What a clown.

Once I got back out to the living room, he had already woken up from his nap. He was sitting up on the couch, with the blanket pushed off, writing something on a piece of paper.

“Have a good sleep?” I asked softly.

He nodded, without looking up from what he was writing. “You just couldn’t help yourself with the blanket, could you?” he smirked.

“Hey,” I replied, “I totally could’ve enchanted it with another trap if I wanted to.”

He looked at me and gave me a little wink. “But you didn’t.”

I smiled and rolled my eyes. “So, are you ready to head out now, toon boy? Or are you busy trying to plot out your revenge arc?”

He looked up from what he was writing and nodded. “Yeah, pal. If you’re ready to let me go.”

I looked at him, sincerely, with my crimson eyes. “I am.”

I helped him up off of the couch, and let him over to the portal. This was it. For real this time, no fake outs.

It was time to say goodbye.

Yakko

The portal was re-ignited in its creepy green flames, and the unsettling, distorted view of the brick wall returned. A few steps forward, and I’d be back in the world of musical numbers, sibling shenanigans, and occasionally being locked up in a water tower.

After that little prank the imp pulled on me earlier, I should have walked through without a second thought.

But of course, I didn’t.

“So,” I said to him, turning away from the portal and looking in his direction. “When are you coming to visit Burbank? The weather’s real nice this time of year. Dry and unbearably hot. Like an oven. Perfect temperature for imps. You’d love it.”

His foxish ears perked up at me.

“…You want me to come visit?” He asked. I was only slightly offended at how surprised he seemed by the question.

“Imps aren’t allergic to sunlight or anything, right?” I asked, half-joking. “You were going on earlier like you’d never be able to see me again.”

He sighed and gave me a little smile. “Oh, no,” he said, “there’s nothing stopping me from going over there. I just… you know… didn’t think…”

“Numes…” I interrupted him, “don’t sell yourself short, pal. You might be a little weird, but, you’re fun. You have good taste in movies, too. Maybe you can show me another movie sometime that has a Hell scene that gets you all squirmy.” I gave him an extremely obvious wink and eyebrow waggle.

He blushed immediately. “H-hey, I d-didn’t, I wasn’t—!”

I walked right up to him and gave his blue head fur between his horns a good ruffling. Being taller than him, it was easy to do.

“Heheh,” I chuckled, “here, let me give you this, before I forget.” I pulled my business card from a pocket in my slacks, and handed it to him.

The front of it read:

YAKKO WARNER
CARTOON CHARACTER, COMEDIAN, ACTOR
WARNER BROS. STUDIO
BURBANK, CALIFORNIA
TOTALLY INSANE-Y SINCE 1993!

He read it over. “So you’ve been at this for a while, huh?” He asked with the perk of his foxish ears.

I nodded, and gave him a smirk. “But not as long as you, right, Mr. Demon Prince?”

He gave me just a bit of a scowl. “Hey,” he grumbled, “are you calling me old?”

I smiled. “Not old. Just experienced. Mischievous imps and zany cartoon characters aren’t as different from each other as you think. Oh – by the way – look at the other side.”

He flipped my business card around to reveal hand-written directions to our water tower from downtown Burbank. I could see the warm smile growing on his face.

“Just in case the portals give you some more problems in the future,” I said. “You’ll still know where to find us.”

He stepped closer to me. He looked at me with his red eyes and smirked. “This better not lead me into a church,” he joked.

“Oh believe me,” I replied, “as much as I would like to give holy fire-grilled imp ribs a try, I—”

THUMP.

I was cut off mid-zinger as I felt a tight, sudden squeeze wrap right around my middle. The shorter imp lifted me slightly off of the ground and pulled me into a firm and warm bearhug without any warning.

I may have squirmed for a moment as he lifted me up, but I didn’t say anything right away. Not that I think I could have, anyway, with how tight he was holding me.

Numou didn’t say a single word. I just saw the warmth on his face. Once he dropped me back on the ground, I wrapped my own arms around his shoulders and pulled him in for a big hug of my own. Then, he buried his horns and foxish muzzle into my chest and neck, nuzzling me. I was getting covered in imp cooties. And I was letting it happen.

Finally, I broke the silence. “I guess you did want to take me up on that hug offer after all, huh?” I asked with a smile.

He pulled back just long enough to nod, and then went back in for another squeeze. “Mhmm,” he replied, with his breath exhaling gently against my chest. “Thanks, Yakko. For everything.”

“Absolutely, pal,” I said, starting to ruffle the back of his shoulders. “And thank you for the hospitality. And the trauma. I’ll cherish both.”

He giggled, no stifling or trying to hide it this time.

And, just as I thought the imp was about to start accruing a negative hug balance from me, the moment was broken for us, with the sound of a loud voice coming from beyond the portal.

“WHHHOOOOAAA – HEADS UP!”

A blur shot through the portal and crashed right into us, knocking both of us back on our butts.

Laying on the stone floor in front of us was a familiar sight. It was that skinny, cream-furred cat with the red vest and baggy, scuffed gray jeans. It was Flip. He was lying face-up on the floor, rubbing the coin on his head, and groaning.

“Uughh… what the…” he started, slowly pulling himself off of the floor and brushing himself off. “HEY— wait a minute—!”

He looked up, and his blue eyes immediately locked on Numou.

“Aw, NO! Not this place again!” Flip’s voice cracked into a screech. “You can’t tell me I jumped through the same freakin’ portal?!”

I blinked. “Oh hey!” I said, “It’s that sketchy alleyway goblin!”

Flip wasted no time in turning around, scrambling his feet to bolt as fast as he could towards the portal.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t make it.

With a flick of his wrist, Numou snapped his fingers, and the portal popped out of existence, just as Flip was about to pass through it. The cat froze mid-lunge, blinking at the empty air. And then…

A hand grabbed the slack of his vest and yanked him backwards.

“Aw, cripes—!” Flip yelped, kicking wildly as Numou lifted him clean off the ground by his vest like a kitten by the scruff.

I stepped forward, tilting my head as I eyed the wiggling cat up and down.

“So,” I began, “which chapter of the impish spellbook are you gonna use on this fine fella?”

Numou’s lips – or muzzle, whatever – curled into a sharp, wicked grin.

“Oh,” he growled, leering at the cat, “You’ll see.”

Then, without warning, the imp let out a full, exaggerated, but complete-in-box villain laugh – deep, echoing, and absolutely diabolical.

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAA—!”

I couldn’t help but clap. “Ooh, very solid evil laugh, imp! Strong form, great projection. Just missing the thunder in the background, I think!”

Flip started thrashing around in Numou’s grip. “H-hey, come on now! This was just a big misunderstanding, I swear!”

Numou turned Flip around to face him and look him right in the eye. “Pushover, huh?” the imp said, with venom in his voice.

The cat gulped. “Ostie de ostie—! Ostie de tabarnak!” Flip swore, completely panicking as the imp snarled at him. “Uhhh, it was – it was – French! It was a compliment! Je parle français! Je parle français! I swear! I SWEAR—!”

The imp suddenly flipped Flip completely upside down, dangling him by a foot, and began shaking him around like he was a can of Parmesan. Instantly, a pile of gold and silver coins, among various little shiny knick-knacks came pouring out from the cat’s pants pockets, as well as from beneath the pants themselves.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

“Literally – literally – a cat burglar. Man. This stuff just writes itself!” I laughed.

Flip continued to thrash and squirm as he was dangled by his feet. He began looking at Yakko, as if he thought the toon would help him out somehow.

“I was returning it! Yeah!” Flip exclaimed, “that’s why I came back! I was bringing it all back—! C’mon you gotta believe me!”

Numou shook his head, looking down at the pathetic cat’s upside-down face, and then turned him back right-side up. He then moved his grip to dangle Flip by the seat of his pants.

“So this is why you like em so baggy, hmm?” Numou said, making a ‘tsk, tsk’ sound as he yo-yoed the seat of Flip’s jeans a bit. “I wonder what you’d do without all that extra storage space?”

Flip gulped and continued to squirm. “Wh-what’s that supposed to mean, f-f-fox man?” the cat stammered.

Numou leaned to the side a bit, looking behind Flip to speak to me.

“Yakko,” he said to me, before snapping his fingers to re-open the portal, “You better get going. You don’t need to see this part.” He sounded fairly serious, but I could see a tinge of smirk on his face.

“Aww, but I wanted to watch!” I replied, mildly disappointed. “Are you uh… gonna let him live?”

Numou’s slight tinge of smirk grew into a full evil grin. “Oh yeah,” he said, with his fangs glistening from the green light of the portal, “he’s gonna be just fine.”

“Here, just sec—!” I called back to Numou, reaching into my slacks to pull out a polaroid camera. I quickly slithered in between the dangling cat and the standing imp, making a peace sign for the camera. “Saaaaayy— fromage!”

I snapped the photo, grabbing the printout from the camera, before setting the camera right into Numou’s free hand.

“Hey, a couple for the scrapbook then, at least?” I asked, trying to hold in a giggle.

Numou nodded as he gripped the camera, before looking back at Flip with a very fascinating mix of delightfully evil grin and incredibly malicious scowl.

“See you soon, Yakko,” the imp said to me, holding back the cat while I made my way towards the portal.

“See you on the other side, pal,” I replied to him with a wave.

The last thing I heard before jumping into the portal was the sound of Flip’s panicked cries, and the maniacal laugh of the imp who had a death grip on him. A very fitting end to such a zany day in Hell.

***

VIII

Still Yakko

With a soft woosh and a flickering green light, I emerged through the other side of the portal with a landing far softer than the one I came in on.

I heard their voices before I even saw them coming.

“YAKKO—!”

A blur of blue and red crashed into me like a freight train made out of sweaters and hats.

“OOF—! Hey there, Wakko!” I wheezed as my little brother hugged me tight enough to make my cartoon bones creak. “I missed you too, buddy!”

“I thought you got sent to the meat grinder dimension!” Wakko cried, his eyes wide. “Or melted into goo! Or turned into a toaster!”

Dot stood nearby, arms crossed but smiling faintly. “I told you he’d be fine,” she said, although there was an undeniable bit of relief in her voice. “You gave that demon a run for his money, right Yakko?” she asked with a smirk.

I decided to play into it a bit, standing tall, puffing my chest, and wiping off some imaginary soot from my brow. “You’re completely right, sis,” I said, “you would not believe the ordeal. I was trapped in a lair full of lava pits, surrounded by a bunch of imps who had me in the middle of a soul-stealing ritual, and, and—”

Dot cut me off, walking up to me and snatching the photo I was holding in my hand that I had completely forgotten about.

“H-hey now, wait a sec—!” I scrambled my hands around, trying to grab it back from her.

“Hmm hmm hmm,” she teased, “what’s this now?”

Her and Wakko both looked down at the photo with incredible curiosity. On the left, Flip was dangling by the seat of his grey jeans, with the waistband of his dorky-looking underpants very clearly visible underneath. In the center was myself, sticking my tongue out to make a goofy face, while flashing the peace sign. And on the right was Numou, grinning like he had just won the Soul Lottery, with his vibrant crimson eyes reflecting quite well with camera’s flash, holding up his victim in one hand, and bearing his sharp claws with his other hand.

Dot looked back up to me and laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, it looks like you made a friend!”

I started to spit out a few half-spoken and very unconvincing excuses, before Wakko blurted something out.

“Hey, it’s that cat guy we ran into on the way over here!” Wakko said, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. “Did he jump back in with you, or something?”

“Uhh,” I started to reply, “I don’t really know when he jumped in again… he was showing up just as I was leaving.”

“Oh?” Wakko said, tilting his head, “did you leave him there for the demon to eat? It looks like he was just about to!”

I started to laugh, and I swiped the photo back from my siblings. “No, no,” I said, “that demon’s not gonna eat him!”

“Oh?” Wakko asked again, “was he a nice demon?”

“Uhh, well…” I thought for a moment, “he was… let’s just say… he had a good heart.”

Dot snickered and chimed in. “Aww, so you really did make a friend.”

Just as I was about to tell my siblings a bit more about what had happened, the portal flashed and lit up again, and no sooner had we turned our heads to see it activate, did that cat guy come barreling back through it!

“AAAAAAAAAHHHH!” Flip screamed, before running into the three of us and knocking us all over like bowling pins.

The three of us sprung back to our feet in only a matter of seconds, but Flip was lying face down on the ground, groaning and moaning in pain as he tried to collect himself. But there was something very different about his appearance this time.

…He wasn’t wearing any pants.

Actually – even his little red vest was missing. All he was wearing was a pair of white briefs – as tighty-whitey as they come.

As the frazzled-looking cat slowly pulled himself to his feet, Wakko wasted no time in pointing out his state of dress.

“He’s not wearing any pants!” Wakko announced, like it was highlight of his day.

The scruffy, skinny cat’s blue eyes widened as he quickly tried to cover himself. He bent forward and began running off down the alleyway as fast as he could.

“HE CURSED ME—!” Flip screamed as he ran off, “THAT LITTLE DEMON PSYCHO FREAK CURSED ME—! I NEED A PRIEST—! A WITCH DOCTOR—! SOMEONE—! ANYONE—! HE CURSED MEEEEEEE!!”

Wakko waved at Flip as he ran by, even managing to grab his waistband as he passed. “Nice undies!” Wakko teased, before letting the cat run off several feet, then letting go of his waistband to send it flying back towards him!

With a loud, incredibly high-pitched squeal, Flip’s undies snapped against his waist, making a thunderous-sounding CRACK, and the echo of both the squeal and the SNAP bounced down the walls of the alleyway. The three of us all started rolling over on the ground laughing.

Once we all started to calm down and finally recovered, Dot spoke up.

“So, what did he do to the demon to warrant… whatever THAT was?” Dot laughed.

“Well,” I replied, “He was rather… mean to him. I’ll just leave it at that,” I said simply.

“Mean?” Wakko asked, “and what about you, Yakko? What did you to do the demon?”

I stood there just smirking, before starting to stretch and yawn. “I think that’s a story for another day, you guys,” I said, beginning to push the two of them along down the alleyway.

“So Yakko,” Wakko asked me, “did he try to steal your soul?”

“Nah,” I said, shaking my head, “he offered me coffee. And lunch!”

Wakko stuck his tongue out again. “He sounds like a nice demon,” he said. “Did he have any pizza?”

“Nah. We had some stew, though.”

Wakko frowned. “Boooooo! He sounds boring!”

I just chuckled and kept pushing them along with me. “Nah,” I said, “he was a lot of fun.”

Dot and Wakko were quiet for a moment as we walked out of the alleyway, turned the corner, and down the street. Then, Dot broke the silence:

“So, are you gonna see him again, Yakko?” she asked.

I nodded. “Of course. I gave him directions.”

Numou

After the portal closed, my living room was silent. There was no longer somebody yakking in my ear, squealing in front of my face, or swearing at me in an odd dialect of French that I had never heard before.

Usually, I welcomed the silence. Silence meant peace, consistency, and safety. But it also meant boredom. And now my mind would be the one yakking in my ear. I normally don’t have a lot to think about, but tonight, there was a lot I had to digest. At least a spoon wasn’t among it.

I was still holding two articles of clothing in my hands, with my claws dug into the fabric of a little red vest and a baggy pair of gray jeans. It was time to hang these up somewhere where they could be appreciated – serving as a memento for the time I got revenge on that cruel, greedy cat named Flip. I made sure to give him a memento of my own before I shoved him through the portal – courtesy of the chapter on Curses from my spellbook.

I knew I had to go back there at some point to… check on the cat’s progress. You know, do the compassionate thing, and see how he was getting along with his new threads. Or lack thereof.

That was what I told myself, anyway. That was my internal justification for making plans to visit this Burbank place myself. The business part of the trip – you know, to see how effective my spellcasting was – and maybe give the curse a little refresh if I was feeling evil enough.

But the real reason I wanted to go to there was, because for once…

…finally…

…there was somebody up there…

…who actually wanted to see me.