Time Started: 11:41
NO, sereiously, it does. I know I've complained about this before, but Blogger decided to do maitenence yesterday and I couldn't get on to neither update nor do my Cover Sheet.
Oh, for those of you who've read this/are reading this and don't know, I started this blog as my final writing project in my Creative Writing class. So yeah.
I'll probably be doing my Cover Sheet here soon, eventually. FOr now, have my completed Huckleberry Finn/Oswald The Lucky Rabbit Crossover Fanfiction Journal thingy.
Cola Squire
4/13/11
Period 6
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Creative Response: Travel Journals
v What is your name?
Oswald the Lucky Rabbit
v Are you male or female? How old are you? When is your birthday?
Male, no specific age. I was created in 1927, but the great thing about being a cartoon character? You never get old.
v What is your race & ethnicity? Where were you born?
Black and White cartoon character—one of the originals. Some people say that we started it all. I say we had fun. I was born in Ub Iwerks’ sketchpad.
v How do you spend most of your days? (I.e. do you have a job, are you a student, a housewife, etc.?)
Once upon a time, I was able to make cartoons with some really talented Animators—Walt Disney, Ub Iwerks, Les Clark, to name a few. But then something happened between Walt and Charles Mintz—and for a while things got awkward. Then suddenly Walt stopped showing up at the studio—about a year after I was created, if I remember correctly. Things went downhill from there. Sure, I got sound cartoons—but that doesn’t mean Mintz cared nearly as much as Walt ever did.
v Describe your level of education and your educational experience.
I can proudly say I’m very well-rounded, having driven trolleys, played many instruments, and explored the jungles of
Africa.
v Where did you grow up? What kind of community was it?
I grew up in an animation room, mostly. It was nice at first, until Mintz took over. He was harsh, cruel. He treated me like scrap metal—threatened me with Thinner if I didn’t do things the way he wanted.
v Do you read the Bible? What are your religious or spiritual beliefs?
Nope, not much on religion. I believe in freedom and the true, old-fashioned American way.
v What do you prefer, the indoors or the outdoors? Why?
I like the outdoors mostly. Nothing beats a lazy day in the sun, laying on a grassy hillside listening to some relaxing music. It may just be the animal in me, but indoors are so…confining.
v What has been your experience with slaves and slavery (if any)? Are you a slave? Do you know people that own slaves? How do you feel about slavery? What are your attitudes toward those of another race than you?
Wow, that’s a lot of questions at once. Um, let’s see. Experience? I’d say the good eighty years’ worth of being shoved around, threatened, forgotten, stuffed in the basement, and general abuse under Universal was close enough to slavery for my tastes. Now that I’m back under Disney I can be myself—remember who the real me is, explore that, and really, truly, connect with fans.
v How would others describe you?
To quote “
Africa” (1930):
Ø Lucky Rabbit
Ø That’s Lucky Oswald Rabbit
Ø Nicest Rabbit
Ø That you ever knew
Ø Lucky Habit
Ø That lucky Oswald habit
Ø If you want it
Ø Here’s what you must do;
Ø Read and write and ‘rithmetic
Ø May often make you awful sick
Ø But if you learn your lesson quick
Ø The quicker you’ll be through
Ø Don’t be scrappy
Ø But smile and do things snappy
Ø Make folks happy
Ø And you’ll be lucky too
v How do you end up with Huck?
In this particular exploration I play myself; that is, if Universal were in a city at the head of the
Mississippi River. I’m running away to Walt Disney World,
Florida, but I end up going along with Huck, who I meet when I float by
Jackson’s
Island. My brother shows up on occasion, too—but unlike Epic Mickey, I get most of the attention, which is great for my withered ego, honestly.
Ø Grey overalls/shorts inspired by “Trolley Troubles” (1927)
Ø Banjo inspired by “Rival Romeos” (1928)
Ø Style roughly based on late 1990’s/early 2000’s era Mickey Mouse—roughly House of Mouse era
§ White of face wider than Mickey’s
§ Eyes are black ovals
§ No gloves
§ Overalls
§ No shoes
§ Floppy ears usually ad depth to expression
Ø Also is more sarcastic than his ‘Brother’, but he does have plenty of class. He spends most of his time lazing on his own raft—which doesn’t have any covering except for over his supplies—and playing his banjo. He’s been stuck in Universal’s basement so long he only really remembers to play one song—his theme from “
Africa” [Lyrics and link above]
Ø Later on, however, he “makes up” his new and improved theme from Epic Mickey;
§ {Be warned, the video may make you cry.}
Day 01 (Chapter 10; post-house, pre-drag)
Dear Journal,
Days are lazy as I float along the river. I would have written sooner, but I didn’t find something to write in/with until today.
Two days ago, I’d finally done it. I escaped Charles Mintz’s hold, escaped from that dark basement in Universal Studios. Now, as I write this even now, my wooden raft is floating down the
Mississippi towards freedom.
It truly is a nice day. I think I’ve made good enough distance—I figure its safe enough now to nap. Good-night, Journal.
Well, I was mighty surprised when I woke up to two strange voices.
“Jim! Looky here, Jim! There a rabbit on that raft!” Says one. “De islan’ is purty flo’ed, chile,” said the other.
Well now I was curious, so I opened my eyes, and lo and behold there sits a boy and a man in a canoe, heading straight for me. “Howdy-do!” I yawned, stretching my hands high in the air. “He talked!” cried the boy. “Sure, I know lots of stuff. I can sing, and read, and write, and do math—”
“Doan’ hurt us, nao. Jus go back ter bein’ a rabbit.” The man shook, scooting to the other end of the canoe. I laughed, “There’s nothing to be afraid of, mister! I don’t bite!” How strange; it’s as though they’d never seen a cartoon character before!
I eventually managed to convince them I meant no harm, and learned that they were on the run, too. Huck—the boy—was awful crafty. He was always trying to amuse himself, trying to pull my tail when I thought he wasn’t looking. I liked Jim better—even though his accent was so thick I could barely understand him sometimes, he understood the whole ‘freedom’ thing. I knew how superstitious he was, so I tried to lay low on the Hammerspace—that is, the extendable pocket every ‘toon has behind their back—and any of the other ‘toon gags.
I figured I’d sailed down far enough—neither Huck nor Jim knew there even was a town called Universal—so I agreed to stay for dinner when they offered.
I ended up staying longer, too—quite a few days, actually. I liked living with them; days were lazy, the weather was nice, and I really felt free. But of course, Huck wouldn’t have any sort of peace in the place.
I’d come back from “nature’s call” to find Jim putting Huck in a dress. Now, where they got the dress, I was too scared to ask. All I knew was there were two things wrong with this picture: Huck’s boyish stride and the fact that they wanted me to go with.
I said I’d teach Huck how to walk like a girl instead, and then Jim put me in one of the dresses too. Ugly things; made of really coarse fabric that made my fur itch all over.
Now it’s sometime after nightfall. Jim just fell asleep, but I can’t help feeling like something’s wrong. I’m writing in this journal to pass the time, but I can’t really concentr
Day 02 (For info on DIP, see “Who Framed Rodger Rabbit”)
Sorry about such an abrupt ending last time. Huck found out that a group of hunters were after Jim. I found out there was slavery, and Jim found out I could read and write. So it was a day of all-around discovery.
Anyway, so Huck comes barreling up, half-way out of the dress and yelling about how “they’re after us.” Apparently by “us” he meant “Jim” because there was no mention of Thinner, DIP*, or very rabid ‘toons with dynamite, so I figure I’m safe.
So we pack up as quickly as possible and head out without a word. It wasn’t until we were a good ten miles away from the island before anyone spoke, and let me tell you, those were the tensest ten miles of my life…so far…
Day 03
We came across my little brother today. It was…surreal.
Apparently he works under Pete as a steamboat pilot. He didn’t say much, though. He was just whistling this really catchy tune and waved us by—unfortunately, that same catchy tune got stuck in Huck’s head, so I had to listen to it for a good week solid afterwards.
I had to explain ‘toon logic after Huck and Jim found out we were brothers.
See, my brother’s a mouse. Mickey Mouse, by name. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He’s got over three thousand appearances in cinema, several books, games, and plenty of artwork. He runs every
Disney Park around the world, and is known as “the world’s most beloved cartoon character.”
Ub Iwerks and Walt Disney created him after Charles Mintz took the copyright contracts for myself and refused to give them up for anything.
Am I resentful? Maybe a little, if only for the fact that he has so much. But seeing how far he’s come in life…beyond all else, at the end of the day, I’m proud to call him my li’l bro.
Unfortunately, Huck and Jim don’t get the whole ‘creation’ thing. I tried explaining how we’re drawn, not born, but Jim’s a hard one to convince of anything. Once he has something set in mind it’s awful hard to tell him otherwise.
Day 04 (Underlined the quoted text)
Darn that Huck! He’s always sticking his nose into trouble! I swear, if I weren’t a ‘toon, he’d be long gone.
Thank you, whoever the god-like animator was that created Hammerspace!
It started out normal enough. I was tuning my banjo on my own raft—we tied the two together to the canoe so we wouldn’t lose any of them—when suddenly I feel us changing direction. Well, turns out Huck spotted a steamboat that’d run afoul of an outcropping of rocks—presumably from the storm the night before—and decided to go loot it. I was all for staying behind, but I could see Jim was even more, so I told him to watch the rafts and I’d watch after Huck.
And boy am I glad I decided to go, because by the time I’d caught up to the boy he was heading after a group of ‘toon robbers!
Now, ‘toon robbers and human robbers are two completely different things. Unlike humans, a ‘toon won’t stop if you point a gun at ‘em. We’re sorta rubbery, see, so we can absorb large shocks—why else d’you think we can survive when you drop a piano on our heads? We just turn ourselves all rubbery right before impact, and we don’t feel anything worse than a headache. Really handy, but when a ‘toon decides to go villain, it’s pretty hard to stop them because of it. The element of surprise is key for any attack against a ‘toon.
So without really caring what was going on with the robbers I grabbed Huck and shoved him into the closest room.
“What’re you doing?!” I hissed. “Aw, calm down, Oz,” Huck was too calm; he obviously hadn’t gotten a good enough look at the robbers—or the pistol one of them carried, either. “I’ll be calm when we’re—” But then I heard footsteps, so I shoved him into the closet and closed the door, keeping Huck back. I’m glad I’d at least been able to keep my mallet—I reached into my Hammerspace and grabbed the familiar oak handle. Knowing I had at least some form of protection was comforting.
“He’s said he’ll tell, and he will. If we was to give both our shares to him now it wouldn’t make no difference after the row and the way we’ve sefved him. Shore’s you’re born, he’ll turn state’s evidence; now you hear me. I’m for putting him out of his troubles,” said one of them. Huck leaned over my head and opened the door a hair, watching. All I could see was their shadows, and I could vaguely hear whimpering from the room over. That meant there was more than two; which also meant I wouldn’t be able to use the mallet against all of them. I tried to keep Huck back and an eye on the ‘toon’s shadows while searching through my Hammerspace for something that could work.
“So’m I,” said the other. One shadow pointed at the other, the latter throwing his hands up defensively. “Blame it, I’d sorter begun to think you wasn’t. Well, then, that’s all right. Le’s go and do it.”
The hands dropped, the shadow taking up a defensive stance. “Hold on a minute; I hain’t had my say yit. You listen to me. Shooting’s good, but there’s quieter ways if the thing’s got to be done. But what I say is this; it ain’t good sense to go court’n’ around after a halter if you can git at what you’re up to in some way thast’s jits as good and at the same time don’t bring you into no resks. Ain’t that so?”
“You bet it is. But how you goin’ to manage it this time?”
I didn’t care to find out—I’d finally found a gag to use. I had one black hole left—the perfect escape. I tossed it to the floor behind us and pushed Huck in, praying it would still function despite the age as I jumped in after.
They thankfully don’t call me the Lucky Rabbit for nothing as we landed feet-first right beside Jim. He nearly jumped out of his skin at our sudden appearance, but I paid no mind as I dashed for the raft—
Gone.
“What happened to the raft?” I tried to keep the edge out of my tone as I rounded on Jim. This wasn’t the time for panic. “Oh, my lordy! Raf’? Dey ain’ no raf’ no mo’; she done broke loose en gone!—en here we is!”
I was afraid of that. Without a word I began to look around the edge of the outcropping. “Oz, this ain’t no time fer lookin’ at the view!” Huck was scared, now. I pinched the bridge of my nose—it would do no good to have two nervous wrecks around here, and if Jim’s moaning wasn’t distracting enough…”They obviously didn’t stay on the steamboat from its wreck. They came here just like we did, and considering no town thus far has had a Gag Shop, they must have come by boat or raft.” I turned towards them, “We don’t have much time before our little friends in there decide to bail. Just shut up and be as quiet as possible for a few minutes.”
I’m really very thankful of my ears. They’ve kept me out of trouble millions of times before, and thanks to them I was able to find that raft. We took the ‘toon raft and caught up with our hodgepodge of floating devices.
I got a few new gags—seltzer bottles, pies, and the like—and Huck and Jim each got a fresh set of clothes. We sunk the ‘toon raft and my own—moving the supplies into the canoe—because we quickly realized having more than one raft was a little silly. I’ve taken over the canoe for shelter, since I don’t much care for the wigwam. It smells like smoke over there, which brings back bad memories.
Day 05
I feel so guilty for some reason. I had no idea they’d planned on stopping at
Cairo. What if we’d passed it on my shift?
Jim says it isn’t my fault, that we must’ve lost it in the fog. That was a bad night—spiraling around with no direction at all, bumping into things, hollering for each other. Then Huck went and tried one of his stupid pranks about how it was all a dream—took a while for Jim to forgive him, and I haven’t completely yet either.
I figured maybe we could find Mickey and convince him to give us a lift, but unfortunately there’s two ways of contacting him, and neither are very fast. We either wait until we come across him again or wait until I reach Disney World, which is all the way at the end of the river. Neither are very promising, so we decided to see if we couldn’t think something up later.
For now I’m the only one on track. It’s not going to be an easy trek, but the thought of finding a home again is promising.
Maybe that’s why I feel guilty. Jim’s poor family will have to wait—poor old Jim himself has to wait for freedom while I’m home-bound.
I’ve been playing my banjo a lot lately, mostly to keep my mind off of things. I started writing out a new song, too, but it’s pretty rough. At least it’s something to pass the time—especially during the day, when we’re landlocked.
Day 06
We got hit by a steamboat a few nights back. I lost both of them and my old journal, but I was taken in by a nice family, the Shepherdsons. Apparently they’d sheltered ‘toons before, and were very hospitable. I’d like to see if I can find Huck or Jim again—I hope they made it to shore. I’m really worried about Jim, but for now, I’ll lie low.
Day 02 (For info on DIP, see “Who Framed Rodger Rabbit”)
Sorry about such an abrupt ending last time. Huck found out that a group of hunters were after Jim. I found out there was slavery, and Jim found out I could read and write. So it was a day of all-around discovery.
Anyway, so Huck comes barreling up, half-way out of the dress and yelling about how “they’re after us.” Apparently by “us” he meant “Jim” because there was no mention of Thinner, DIP*, or very rabid ‘toons with dynamite, so I figure I’m safe.
So we pack up as quickly as possible and head out without a word. It wasn’t until we were a good ten miles away from the island before anyone spoke, and let me tell you, those were the tensest ten miles of my life…so far…
Day 03
We came across my little brother today. It was…surreal.
Apparently he works under Pete as a steamboat pilot. He didn’t say much, though. He was just whistling this really catchy tune and waved us by—unfortunately, that same catchy tune got stuck in Huck’s head, so I had to listen to it for a good week solid afterwards.
I had to explain ‘toon logic after Huck and Jim found out we were brothers.
See, my brother’s a mouse. Mickey Mouse, by name. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? He’s got over three thousand appearances in cinema, several books, games, and plenty of artwork. He runs every
Disney Park around the world, and is known as “the world’s most beloved cartoon character.”
Ub Iwerks and Walt Disney created him after Charles Mintz took the copyright contracts for myself and refused to give them up for anything.
Am I resentful? Maybe a little, if only for the fact that he has so much. But seeing how far he’s come in life…beyond all else, at the end of the day, I’m proud to call him my li’l bro.
Unfortunately, Huck and Jim don’t get the whole ‘creation’ thing. I tried explaining how we’re drawn, not born, but Jim’s a hard one to convince of anything. Once he has something set in mind it’s awful hard to tell him otherwise.
Day 04 (Underlined the quoted text)
Darn that Huck! He’s always sticking his nose into trouble! I swear, if I weren’t a ‘toon, he’d be long gone.
Thank you, whoever the god-like animator was that created Hammerspace!
It started out normal enough. I was tuning my banjo on my own raft—we tied the two together to the canoe so we wouldn’t lose any of them—when suddenly I feel us changing direction. Well, turns out Huck spotted a steamboat that’d run afoul of an outcropping of rocks—presumably from the storm the night before—and decided to go loot it. I was all for staying behind, but I could see Jim was even more, so I told him to watch the rafts and I’d watch after Huck.
And boy am I glad I decided to go, because by the time I’d caught up to the boy he was heading after a group of ‘toon robbers!
Now, ‘toon robbers and human robbers are two completely different things. Unlike humans, a ‘toon won’t stop if you point a gun at ‘em. We’re sorta rubbery, see, so we can absorb large shocks—why else d’you think we can survive when you drop a piano on our heads? We just turn ourselves all rubbery right before impact, and we don’t feel anything worse than a headache. Really handy, but when a ‘toon decides to go villain, it’s pretty hard to stop them because of it. The element of surprise is key for any attack against a ‘toon.
So without really caring what was going on with the robbers I grabbed Huck and shoved him into the closest room.
“What’re you doing?!” I hissed. “Aw, calm down, Oz,” Huck was too calm; he obviously hadn’t gotten a good enough look at the robbers—or the pistol one of them carried, either. “I’ll be calm when we’re—” But then I heard footsteps, so I shoved him into the closet and closed the door, keeping Huck back. I’m glad I’d at least been able to keep my mallet—I reached into my Hammerspace and grabbed the familiar oak handle. Knowing I had at least some form of protection was comforting.
“He’s said he’ll tell, and he will. If we was to give both our shares to him now it wouldn’t make no difference after the row and the way we’ve sefved him. Shore’s you’re born, he’ll turn state’s evidence; now you hear me. I’m for putting him out of his troubles,” said one of them. Huck leaned over my head and opened the door a hair, watching. All I could see was their shadows, and I could vaguely hear whimpering from the room over. That meant there was more than two; which also meant I wouldn’t be able to use the mallet against all of them. I tried to keep Huck back and an eye on the ‘toon’s shadows while searching through my Hammerspace for something that could work.
“So’m I,” said the other. One shadow pointed at the other, the latter throwing his hands up defensively. “Blame it, I’d sorter begun to think you wasn’t. Well, then, that’s all right. Le’s go and do it.”
The hands dropped, the shadow taking up a defensive stance. “Hold on a minute; I hain’t had my say yit. You listen to me. Shooting’s good, but there’s quieter ways if the thing’s got to be done. But what I say is this; it ain’t good sense to go court’n’ around after a halter if you can git at what you’re up to in some way thast’s jits as good and at the same time don’t bring you into no resks. Ain’t that so?”
“You bet it is. But how you goin’ to manage it this time?”
I didn’t care to find out—I’d finally found a gag to use. I had one black hole left—the perfect escape. I tossed it to the floor behind us and pushed Huck in, praying it would still function despite the age as I jumped in after.
They thankfully don’t call me the Lucky Rabbit for nothing, as we landed feet-first right beside Jim. He nearly jumped out of his skin at our sudden appearance, but I paid no mind as I dashed for the raft—
Gone.
“What happened to the raft?” I tried to keep the edge out of my tone as I rounded on Jim. This wasn’t the time for panic. “Oh, my lordy! Raf’? Dey ain’ no raf’ no mo’; she done broke loose en gone!—en here we is!”
I was afraid of that. Without a word I began to look around the edge of the outcropping. “Oz, this ain’t no time fer lookin’ at the view!” Huck was scared, now. I pinched the bridge of my nose—it would do no good to have two nervous wrecks around here, and if Jim’s moaning wasn’t distracting enough…“They obviously didn’t stay on the steamboat from when it wrecked. They came here just like we did, and considering no town thus far has had a Gag Shop, they must have come by boat or raft.” I turned towards them, “We don’t have much time before our little friends in there decide to bail. Just shut up and be as quiet as possible for a few minutes.”
I’m really very thankful of my ears. They’ve kept me out of trouble millions of times before, and thanks to them I was able to find that raft. We took the ‘toon raft and caught up with our hodgepodge of floating devices.
I got a few new gags—seltzer bottles, pies, and the like—and Huck and Jim each got a fresh set of clothes. We sunk the ‘toon raft and my own—moving the supplies/loot into the canoe—because we quickly realized having more than one raft was a little silly. I’ve taken over the canoe for shelter, since I don’t much care for the wigwam. It smells like smoke over there, which brings back bad memories.
Day 05
I feel so guilty for some reason. I had no idea they’d planned on stopping at
Cairo. What if we’d passed it on my shift?
Jim says it isn’t my fault, that we must’ve lost it in the fog. That was a bad night—spiraling around with no direction at all, bumping into things, hollering for each other. Then Huck went and tried one of his stupid pranks about how it was all a dream—took a while for Jim to forgive him, and I haven’t completely yet either.
I figured maybe we could find Mickey and convince him to give us a lift, but unfortunately there’s two ways of contacting him, and neither are very fast. We either wait until we come across him again or wait until I reach Disney World, which is all the way at the end of the river. Neither are very promising, so we decided to see if we couldn’t think something up later.
For now I’m the only one on track. It’s not going to be an easy trek, but the thought of finding a home again is promising.
Maybe that’s why I feel guilty. Jim’s poor family will have to wait—poor old Jim himself has to wait for freedom while I’m home-bound.
I’ve been playing my banjo a lot lately, mostly to keep my mind off of things. I started writing out a new song, too, but it’s pretty rough. At least it’s something to pass the time—especially during the day, when we’re landlocked.
Day 06
We got hit by a steamboat a few nights back. I lost both of them and my old journal, but I was taken in by a nice family, the Shepherdsons. Apparently they’d sheltered ‘toons before, and were very hospitable. I’d like to see if I can find Huck or Jim again—I hope they made it to shore. I’m really worried about Jim, but for now, I’ll lie low.
Gunsmoke was heavy in the air as I hid behind a tree. How did I get myself into these things, I still had yet to wonder.
And then I saw a familiar sight—Huck Finn diving for cover across the way! He was alive!
My celebration was short lived when I quickly realized someone—I couldn’t tell who was on who’s side, honestly—aimed a gun Huck’s direction. I sprang into action, kicking off hard and pulling out my mallet with a war cry of, “I don’t think so!”
The man had just enough time to look up before I konked him on the head, not holding back. These people were obviously not afraid to die; maybe some brain damage would be just the ticket. I’d already used up my supply of pies and seltzer bottles, but I still had my good old mallet.
The man hit the ground with a silly expression on his face, but I didn’t bother to care, reaching a hand for Huck, “C’mon, Finn, we gotta get outta this mess!”
“Don’ suppose you got onna them fancy hole things, eh Oz?” Huck asked as we ran. I shook my head, “That was my last one. Where’s Jim?”
“This way.”
Day 07
Things are getting crazier, and unfortunately not in a good way. Not long after arriving at the Shepherdsons’ I was thrown into a full-scale Feud, fighting for my life against people who honestly looked like they could potentially be related. I couldn’t tell who was fighting who, and then I finally saw Huck again. He took me to Jim, and now we’re free again on the good old
Mississippi. Freedom-bound, nothing but river for miles. I would miss this, and it would be hard to say goodbye.
Day 08
Had to part ways today. Huck wanted these two men to join us, but I could already tell I wouldn’t get along with them. There was a lot of yelling and one of them tried to pick me up by the ears, but I dove for the river. I ran away from them all, and I was sad to see Jim stuck with them.
I hope Huck will get rid of them, and fast, but for now I travel on foot.
Day 09
I met a new ‘toon today. Goes by the name of Br’er Rabbit. He reminds me a lot of Huck, but I’m trying not to think about either of them.
Br’er Rabbit says Mickey sent him—apparently they’re excited for my arrival. That brought my hopes up, but I can’t help but feel a little guilty still. Poor old Jim…
I was taken to Br’er Rabbit’s ‘human house’ as he called it. The Phelps’ farm was quaint, and the children were nice—even if they did pull on my ears and such.
In all the hubbub of the Feud I’d forgotten to mention my newest possession. One of the Shepherdsons’ boys gave me a nice suede hat. It’s mostly dark brown, but it’s got a sash of green—which, somehow, the boy knew was one of my two favorite colors. I wish I could remember that boy’s name, he was awful nice. He mentioned something about wanting to marry one of the Grangerfords’ girls.
I was given a new banjo here on the farm, too. Br’er Rabbit taught me a few new songs, and I taught him how to reach his Hammerspace in return.
Things are growing calm again…
Day 10 (Direct quote is underlined)
I take back what I’d said earlier. Br’er Rabbit wasn’t much like Huck Finn.
After meeting the one and only Tom Sawyer, I was 100% sure Br’er Rabbit was the boy’s ‘toon incarnate.
Somehow I can’t seem to shake that darn Huckleberry Finn—or, as he was pretending to be, Tom—or his troublesome mind. Tom Sawyer, on the other hand—or, as he was pretending to be, Sid—was just trouble with a capital T. Once I was clued in on the fact that Jim’d been somehow found and locked up on the farm, Sid was all for using anything I could find in my Hammerspace.
Then again, the boy was determined to do things “as heroes dun it” so I quickly learned to ignore these antics.
To prove my point;
“Who ever heard of getting a prisoner loose in such an old-maidy way as that? No; the way all the best authorities does is to saw the bed-leg in two, and leave it just so, and swallow the sawdust, so it can’t be found, and put some dirt and grease around the sawed place so the vere keenest seneskal can’t see no sign of its being sawed, and thinks the bed-leg is perfectly sound. Then, the night you’re ready, fetch the leg a kick, down she goes; slip off your chain, and there you are. Nothing to do but hitch your rope ladder to the battlements, shin down it, break your leg in the moat—because a rope ladder is nineteen foot too short, you know—and there’s your horses and your trusty vassles, and they scoop you up and fling you across a saddle, and away you go to your native Langu-doc, or Navarre, or wherever it is.”
All I can say is, after spending one week with Sid I was glad I’d run into Huckleberry Finn that day, and not Tom Sawyer nor Br’er Rabbit.
DAY 11
“Watch it!” I hissed, keeping an ear out. It seemed too quiet…
BANG!
In split seconds we went from creeping along to running for our lives. Why did I get myself into these things again?
Oh, right. Huckleberry Finn, the troublesome little boy, and poor old Jim. And of course, let’s not forget our newest additions to the little posse—Tom Sawyer and Br’er Rabbit. The five of us were running for our lives because the ‘Troublesome Two’ as I’d learned to call them (that being Tom and Br’er Rabbit) decided it would be fun if we wrote anonymous letters claiming a tribe of natives were coming to steal Jim away. So what does poor Aunt Sally do? Why, sends the whole village in, what else?
So here we are, running for our lives, and we finally make it to the raft—and Tom Sawyer, the idiot, got himself shot in the leg. He was all for going on anyway, but I’m not sure. Jim and Huck went to the other side of the raft to talk it over, and Br’er Rabbit’s trying to get Tom to lie still and let him bandage it. I guess we’ll wait and see…
DAY 12
Quite a lot’s happened since I last picked this old thing up. I’m proud of Huck—he let Jim have the final decision. And Jim agreed his freedom wasn’t worth Tom’s leg, so he ended up turning himself in. Br’er Rabbit said I should go back to the Phelp’s because of “Mickey’s Orders.” Apparently I’m not supposed to meddle, but I’m going to anyhow because it’s what I do. In all my cartoons, is there any point when I Don’t meddle? No. I’m Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, after all. The worst they can do is forget me, and considering that’s already happened I figure I’m safe.
So, when Huck was talking with Aunt Sally, I snuck out and struck out for the raft. I highly doubt a doctor is going to turn me in—not this close to freedom.
I met Tom, Jim, and the Doctor half-way, and I could immediately tell something was wrong. Half the town had shown up, yelling jeers at Jim. He kept his head down, walking like the condemned as he was pulled by his bound wrists. I tried to get his attention—to stop the mob—anything. But they didn’t notice me. So I went around to Tom’s side, hopped off one of the men’s shoulders, and landed beside the former.
“Jim! What happened?”
“Dey ain’t no way, ain’t no way,” Jim muttered. I made to grab his arm comfortingly but the man holding Jim’s bonds pulled roughly. Jim nearly went sprawling, but quickly regained his footing. The mob continued on, leaving me to stare in worry at the back of Jim’s head.
Day 13 (Underlined direct quote)
I found out why I wasn’t supposed to leave. Had I stayed, I would have caught my boat on time. I watched it sail away without me without even realizing it was the last ship to freedom.
But I honestly didn’t care about that.
I’d taken up stake in front of Jim’s shed, only letting the man who fed him come and go. I didn’t eat. If they wanted to treat one Slave like dirt, then they would treat both of us like dirt.
Eventually the Phelps’ came through and eased up on Jim. He wasn’t in as many chains any more, and I was allowed to actually go inside and talk to him. He said it was for the best—that Tom was more important. I used the same logic on my giving up the boat. Jim was more important than going to Disney. I promised I would help him get his family back if it was the last thing I did.
And then Tom came-to, and there was half an hour of craziness. Tom and Huck were found out, Aunt Sally yelled at me for missing the ferry to take me home, one of the Phelps’ relatives—they were like rabbits. Related to everyone—found out that Jim’s old owner had died and set him free in her will, and there was a lot of explaining and retelling and crazy relatives and—crazy. Lots of crazy.
And then the truth came out.
“They hain’t no right to shut him up! Shove!—and don’t you lose a minute. Turn him loose! he ain’t no slave; he’s as free as any cretur thatwalks this earth!”
“What does the child mean?”
“I mean every word I say, Aunt Sally, and if somebody don’t go, I’ll go. I’ve knowed him all his life, and so has Tom, there. Old Miss Watson died two months ago, and she was ashamed she ever was going to sell him down the river, and said so; and she set him free in her will.”
Day 14
It’s been about three weeks since Jim’s freedom. Tom’s gotten to walking around—even though he should still keep weight off his leg—and things have gotten lazy again. I thought I could grow to find my own place, as it were—living here with Jim and Tom and Huck, I really was sure I could get used to it. Aunt Sally figured she would adopt me and Huck, but he doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about it. Something about “been there before.”
And then another visitor arrived.
I recognized the ‘toon before the top of his head had cleared the hill. About two-foot in height and dressed in little red shorts, white gloves, and big yellow shoes on his feet.
“What’re you doing here?” I didn’t mean to sound so synical. I just honestly didn’t expect to ever see his colored self.
“To get you, Oz. Br’er Rabbit’s been keeping an eye on ya for me.”
I raised an eyebrow and gestured to said rabbit currently wearing my hat, “You sent this troublesome ‘toon to watch me?”
“I may be trouble, but I’m a Disney Agent at heart!”
Mickey placed a hand on my shoulder, “Oz, you’ve been through a lot in the past few years. I’m sorry we couldn’t get you out sooner, but now’s your chance to shine. Whatd’ya say? Will you come to Disney with me?”
I was sorry to leave Jim. Mickey had gotten him the money to free his family, so he was on his way, and now it was my turn. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but in time I would be right up there with my little brother. Mickey Mouse and Oswald the Lucky Rabbit. Disney’s first and only sons.
Yay, I'm so glad I finished it. I really like the ending. :) I think I might post it on ff.net.
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is (c) Mark Twain. Oswald the Lucky Rabbit was made by Ub Iwerks and is (c) Disney. This crossover is solely a work of fiction and in no way intended to be a copyright infragment. Please, for the sake of my sanity, don't steal, alter, or repost. This blog and its contents are (c) Sincerely Doubtful Productions.
This has been a certified drabble courtesy of Sincerely Doubtful Productions
