Hey! I'm back, it's like buses. Nothing for ages, then two come along at once!
See chapter one for the disclaimer and let's crack on. [The ending is deliberate, by the way.]
Bugs stood outside Elmer's door and rang the doorbell. Getting no reply he rattled the letterbox and shouted through it. "Eh...anyone dere? Dere's a liddle ol' lady who needs help out here." He paused - ready to transform himself the moment Elmer came to the door - and waited. After five minutes he got concerned and retrieved the key from under the mat. Normally, of course, he wouldn't dream of enterin' Elmer's premises without permission, but his famous wabbit instinct told him something was wrong.
"Eh..." He knocked on the door as he pushed it open. "What's up, Doc? Anyone here?"
By this point it was well known that toons houses absorbed atmosphere. For example, if it was being robbed it would look dark, shifty and exactly like the sort of house that should be robbed. In this case, however, the house was dark and cold. A wind seemed to be drafting through, despite the fact that - as far as Bugs could see - no windows were open. The rabbit shivered and drew his arms across his chest.
"Elmer?" He called, trying to keep the worry out his voice. "Ya alright? We're meant to be cookin', or 'ave ya forgotten?"
Still no reply. Looking around Bugs reached into his hammer space and pulled out [appropriately] a hammer. "Jus' in case..." He muttered to himself.
He made his way upstairs, hammer clutched in his hand, heart physically pounding out his chest. There was a light on in the bedroom. Bugs assumed it was Elmer, but couldn't be sure. He decided to go and knock on the door, but before he got there, the bedroom door was flung open and Elmer stood in the doorway with his gun pointing straight at Bugs.
"What are you doing here/hewe!?" They exclaimed, at exactly the same time.
"Weww, I was-" Elmer began, then he frowned and snapped. "Hold on a minute - this is my house! What are you doing here?"
"Eh...it's Satoirday. We're meant to be cookin'." Bugs reminded him, chucking the hammer casually back into its space.
Elmer let out a small groan and ran a hand across his forehead. "I fowgot..." He mumbled, as if that wasn't obvious.
Bugs peered at him. "Are ya a'right?" He asked, in concern. "Ya seem a bit off."
"I'm fine." Elmer insisted. "I'm not iww, if that's what you'we wowwied about. No, I just feew...off. My head-" He indicated, half-heatedly. "-Feews foggy."
The hunter glared. "That's what I said, isn't it? Anyway." He sighed. "I'm not up to cooking. You bettew go home." He went to shut the door, but Bugs stopped him by putting his foot in the way, an act he instantly regretted.
"What the-?" Elmer said, in disbelief.
"It seemed a good idea!" Bugs hissed, as he hopped about, cradling his throbbing foot. "Look." He said, though gritted teeth. "Have ya eaten anythin' t'day?"
Elmer gave him a look that clearly said 'what are you, Bryan?'
"Do ya want me to cook ya somethin'?" Bugs asked, in exasperation. "Seein' as I'm here an' everythin'"
"I'm not hungry-"
"When did ya last eat?" There was a silence while Elmer considered the question. After about ten seconds Bugs nodded and said, dryly. "Oi thought so. Get ya tooshy downstairs. Oi'll cook ya somethin'."
Elmer gave in. "Okay, but not much." He paused at the top of the stairs as of just discovering something before turning to Bugs. "How did you get in?" He wondered.
Bugs gave a small grin. "Well, le's jus' say, ya might want to reconsider where you hide that key o' yours..."