- Location
- Germany
Got an I & S omake in the pipes meant to also grab the Poochie bounty myself
A Hellfish flys again! ( a Simpsons X DVV CK2 Quest)
- Thread starter Ranger65
- Start date
Got an I & S omake in the pipes meant to also grab the Poochie bounty myself
- Location
- Germany
AN:
...Soooo, another omake/oneshot by yours truly, I guess?
This time we´re looking at the iconically visceral Toon duo of Itchy and Scratchy shortly before their soar in popularity in the wake of Abes marketing offense - more specifically we are following Scratchy as he searches for his longtime friend Itchy and unearthes some pretty painful memories for the both of them.
My main reason for writing this omake was to show that off-stage, *performers* like Itchy and Scratchy by necessity are often very different people from how they are on-stage - otherwise, Itchy in reality would be a complete and utter psychopath who routinely murders his hapless victims in insanely gory ways instead of a relatively grounded guy who´s secretly deeply troubled by some parts of his very nature in a world that neither likes nor understand what he´s doing.
Other than that, I chose to voice some gripes about some decisions that were made by our two Toons´ former bosses in the search for more mainstream acceptance and therefore money - namely *pretty much everything surrounding the half-assed creation and axing of Poochie the Wonder Dog within I & S "canon"*. As I said before on the quest thread, I am convinced that Poochie could have worked if Myers and his goons put any kind of actual effort into his integration into the show...
But yeah, if you don´t know, the title is a reference to "Confessions of an English Opium Easter", an autobiographic account written in the early 19th century.
Have fun^^
The Krustylu Studios in Downtown Springfield might never have had the fame and glamour of Old Hollywood even in either place´s heyday, but it trudged along supported on material of questionable legal distinctiveness nevertheless - if anything, the Krusty Show as its "flagship" having pretty much exploded in popularity across the nation a few months ago while its far more renowned Californian rival groaned under the yoke of its resident magnate gave some people in town hopes that fortunes might yet reverse.
Not everyone had such lofty aspirations in mind, such as resident Toon Scratchy the Cat, who instead was looking for fellow animated entertainer Itchy the Mouse who also was his longtime co worker and, most importantly, best friend - something that shocked and surprised pretty much everyone who was solely familiar with their on-stage selves.
"Yeah, because all actors are exactly the same once they are in private…the nerve of some people", the toon cat grumbled uncharacteristically morose as he entered one of their show´s many storage halls on a hunch, "Seriously, that´s just how we are and it's not like we can help it much…now, where has that mousey maniac scurried off to again? He´s been grouchier than usual these last few days because...AH-HA! There he is, methinks…"
True enough, Scratch could hear some mumbled words emanating from one of the backend shelves that, on him getting closer still, soon revealed themselves as his friend standing there, clipboard and pen in hand while seemingly ticking off a list of sorts.
"Knives? Check.
Rope? Check.
Dagger? Check.
Chains? Check.
Rocks? Check.
Laser Beams? Check.
Acid? Check.
Body Bag? Check."
Immersed in his task, Itchy didn´t notice Scratchy approaching until he was standing right behind him.
"There you are, Itch - I´ve been looking for you. Whatcha doin´?" he asked chipperly, but not without suddenly feeling an unexplained sense of dread.
Startled like that, the mouse Toon frantically looked around before relaxing upon seeing his other half.
"Damnit, Scratch, you scared me half to death there - and wouldn´t that be some role-reversal for us two, eh? Ah, I´m just running some inventory of my instruments of pain for the next batch of skits, you know? Since I am the one between us two with even half a head for stocks stuff like that, I thought I'd get to it sooner rather than later."
"And those oafs from OAFE rumbling about retooling our show to `be more mainstream-appealing´ didn´t have anything to do with you storming off set like that, old pal? Come on, you know you can trust me - just tell me what's been eating you lately, Itch."
Obviously feeling caught by his old friend, Itchy sighed before replying.
"I really couldn´t fool you for even a second there, eh, Scratch?"
"Not while we´re off the clock, Itch - so fess up already, pal." the cat Toon responded gently without relenting.
"...I´m just so SICK of people getting on our case for not being like the other Toons, Scratch," his Mouse friend bit out after a moment, "and not just recently - been that way ever since I started out solo with Manhattan Madness. Seriously, it's that bastard Lampwick´s fault that I am hardwired to be that violent, not mine! I am TRYING to fit in with the other, `tamer´ Toons, for Pete´s sake…"
"Well, I´ll have to take your word for it there, Itch - I only came along years later for that lawsuit-ridden mess. Myers Sr. even had the gall to name Steamboat ITCHY as your partner, remember?", Scratchy reminded his old friend with a fond smile, "Made us start out on the wrong foot with the other Toons and all - those were the days…"
Groaning in annoyance, Itchy agreed.
"Yeah, especially that Other Mouse and that…Bear-Cat-guy got it out for the two of us early on because of that one. But eventually, it worked out just fine, I think - or at least fine enough for us two to get invited for that big brouhaha in the wake of Roger and Jessica tying the knot a few years before the War…heck, I still got the photo, you know?"
Knowing what was coming, Scratchy tried to prevent his buddy from making himself sad again. Unfortunately though, the mouse deftly avoided his grasping hands with practiced ease. So, the two friends beheld an aged, richly scribbled-on photograph featuring a veritable army of Toons from all the different studios active at the time, with younger versions of themselves standing a bit off to the left of that most joyous of days´ stars, then-freshly minted married couple Roger and Jessica Rabbit.
"Still feels a bit weird that out of all the different Toons there, it had been Jessica who´d click with us two the most," Scratchy mused, caught up in memories of brighter days for a moment, "even more so than her husband Roger and his best man `Baby Herman´, I mean."
"Honestly makes sense, once you think about it, Scratch - given how she was literally made to look like s-..in on legs above all else, she probably knew how it felt to be shunned for not fitting in `normal´ Toon society and just wanted to be nice to kindred souls."
"Yep - in the end, she simply was just drawn in a `bad way´…same as us, Itch."
"Just written like that, yeah - she was one fine lady…dang fine indeed."
For a moment, the two world-weary Toons just stood there in remembrance of a woman, their feelings for which they always suspected might not have been merely platonic at times. Ultimately though, it was Itchy who broke that musing-laden silence while reverently pocketing the memento again.
"...it shouldn´t have ended like it did…"
Sighing heavily, Scratchy shook his dead sorrowfully as bile started to rise in his throat and tears began to well up at the corner of his eyes.
"Nope, it shouldn´t have, Itch - to think that we did a bunch of propaganda cartoons against that German psychopath like everyone else was doing at the time, only for someone just like him and his butchers to spring up right here in the USA only a few years later…that has to be one sick and demented gag for sure, which given what the two of us are doing for a living is saying a lot."
Looking down at the photo again, the two of them took in the sheer magnitude of what had happened to "the Old Guard" of Toons from back then as was signified by their images having been crossed out or surrounded by question marks.
"...so many of our friends and colleagues dead, dropped off the radar or down on their luck enough to scrape by with bit jobs, Scratch - and all of it started after Roger supposedly went nuts enough to kill Acme after Jessica got caught playing patty-cakes with him, neither of which sat right to me despite those photos that Valiant apparently took."
"Didn´t with me either, Itch - those two loved each other so much and I just can´t imagine Jessica cheating on her bunny like that…honestly, if we had still been in LA that day instead of having taken a short vacation outta town to clear our heads, pretty sure we'd have been at the top of the list for Doom to make an example of `unruly Toons´"
"Forget about that, Scratch - if we had been around town back then, Doom woulda pinned Acme´s murder on us, no question asked," Itchy growled in anger at the painful memories before the fight left him and he simply sighed sadly, "or rather, he´d have grabbed me specifically and offed me right there without even an investigation…good riddance to bad rubbish, I guess….
"Please don't s-", Scratchy tried to respond, only let out a startled yelp as his hurting friend slammed his gloved fist into the nearby shelf and making the entire metal construct rattle from the force.
"Why not, Scratch? I know I am sick in the head for instinctively craving violence like that - and it's all the fault of that bastard Lampwick for making me that way." Itchy screamed in sheer self-loathing, clearly mentally damning his creator to the deepest pits of hell for the pain he´d put his "son" through, "Doom´s just some human jerk who doesn´t get what it means to HAVE to inflict pain on a fundamental level to be yourself - unlike that psycho bird Nega-Duck, I at least am trying to rein in my sadism and functioning `normally´. But in the end, deep down I am just some maniac deriving joy from other people's suffering and shoulda gotten Dipped long ago for the good of all.."
SLAP!
"Shut your trap, Itchy the Mouse - that´s my best friend you´re talking smack about!"
Momentarily stunned out of the depth of self-hatred, the Toon mouse held his burning cheek and stared back at Scratchy, who looked at him with frustrated determination blazing in his eyes.
"..you hit me!"
"Sry, buddy, I know that's not something we do normally, but I had to," the cat replied grimly, "yes, Lampwick messed up big time by creating you like that, but that´s on him - not you. And guess what? If you are cracked for needing to inflict pain as a gag, then so am I for needing to FEEL pain in order to create humor, thanks to how Myers Sr. made ME. Face it, Itch - you´re not alone in this."
With that, he put his hand on his friend's shoulder, which quickly made Itchy take a few steadying breaths. Once Itchy had calmed down again, Scratchy nodded at him with a smile.
"Lemme guess, pal - those OAFE oafs waffling on about retooling our show to be `more mainstream-friendly´ made you freak out about people like Doom, right?"
"He's definitely the absolutely worst of the bunch by a nautical mile, with him having looked for ages for any excuses to have us Dipped for being the way we are, but no," Itchy replied grimly, "it's also about more `mundane´ bastards like the two Myers guys having treated us like dirt over the decades - and I am not even talking about Myers Sr. having flat-out stolen my rights from Lampwick just because he could and then creating you after I proved too much to handle for everyone else. No, remember how his son did the bare minimum of work to make us turn a profit?"
"How could I ever forget that, Itch - after all, didn't he try to `make us more suitable for all ages´ as well after our new boss´ son almost got his head cracked open after…dunno, something about a baby recreating one of our skits or somesuch?" Scratchy then frowned as he tried remembering details, only to give up after a nasty headache assaulted him. "...didn´t Myers Jr. also threaten to throw us to Doom to get us Dipped if we didn´t `agree´ to the changes to the show?"
"...I think so? Getting harder to keep things straight in my head for some reason. But yeah, that's just it - everyone knows our show is brutal like no other, so no matter how much we really like making kids laugh, it's not our fault if some overworked housewife can´t supervise her baby properly, dangit! Seriously, I could never look at lemonade the same way afterwards and all…"
"Neither could I, pal - but trust me, I don't think it's like that at all. From all that talking between our human coworkers, Mr. Simpson seems to be a real swell guy who tries to make things work out for everyone involved because of that whole `family stays together´ spiel his company is doing. Heck, didn't you hear some of them talking about wanting to ask us two about ideas we might be having? Neither Myers woulda ever even considered doing that, you know?"
"You´re right, Scratch…and it's not even like I'd be totally against trying to tone our antics down every now and then in some form or another as a `sign of goodwill´ - I just want them to understand that on average, both of us need to be as gory as possible because that´s just how we are `wired´ and all. Ugh, such a damn mess have our two lives become, eh, pal? It's moments like that where I have to do stock-taking and stuff to cool off, weirdly enough…you mind?"
"Nono, go ahead, Itch - I´ll be there if you need anything," his cat Toon friend replied mellowly before leaning against a nearby wall and waiting. Itchy then nodded and resumed his list again.
"Shiv? Check.
Pipe? Check.
Hammer? Check.
Axe? Check.
S-hiiiiiitake mushroom! That's EXACTLY the kinda crap I've been talking about, Scratch!", the mouse angrily shrieked as he accidentally bumped into something covered by a dusty tarp, causing it to fall down and reveal the still and lifeless form…
…of their ill-fated co-star Poochie the Wonder Dog - or at least the proto-Toon "golem" that might have become a proper co-star of theirs with just the slightest bit of goodwill from anyone. But it had not meant to be back then and so, the walking 90s "cool dude" stereotype of an orange-brown cartoon dog had apparently been carelessly stashed away and hushed up after everything was said and done.
"Seriously, it wasn´t enough for that bastard Myers to get us censored for a bit - no, when we weren´t pulling in the amount of dosh he wanted, he just had his animators shoehorn in this cobbled-together mess to try making the show `hip´ again. Honestly, if there had been a way for him to just mix together garbage with a button press and pass it off as `art ´ without having to deal with actually creative people, he´d have happily used it to make even more moolah…shows how little those like that dang suit actually cared for everything about those like us, Scratch."
Sighing at his own sordid memories of the whole thing, Scratchy nodded sadly.
"Ain´t that the truth, Itchy - the whole mess wasn't even Poochie's fault at all, though…"
"Course it wasn't his fault - the poor sod did what he was told to by Myers and his goons like the good little marionette he was and still is thanks to them. Woulda helped if they had any coherent idea what they even wanted him to do in the first freaking place. But no siree, instead, all of them just threw everything they thought was `down with the kids these days´ into something having to pretend to be a character, shoved the result into our tight dynamic and expected it to magically work. Back then, they couldn't even explain what the heck `10% more Rasta´ was supposed to mean, for Christ's sake!"
"Beats me as well - you might just as well demand something to be `20% cooler´ or some other bupkis… same problem, although technically, `cooler´ could also refer to temperature and stuff, which would maybe work…"
"Oh, put a sock in it already, you dang nerd," Itchy chuckled goodnaturedly at his friend's runaway analogy before sobering up already, "but yeah, when Poochie predictably failed to just immediately click with the kids, Myers just axed him again on friggin Day Two or so and killed him off off-screen without fanfare. Heck, he didn't even have the dignity to either put him to the other Extras in one of the proper vaults or something like that - no, instead, he just had a friggin tarp put on the poor thing and washed his hands off the whole affair. But the worst about it all, Scratch? You probably caught onto it as well, hm old pal?"
"Sure I did, Itch - despite all the apathy or even outright hate his presence generated with the kids and no matter how little Myers and the other bozos cared about him…"
With that, the old cat Toon heaved another weary sigh before he voiced the revelation both of them had had that made the whole thing so bitter to them.
"...despite all that, something within that golem still tried desperately to truly come alive as a proper Toon. Heck, pretty sure that not much of a push was still missing for him to Spark - and honestly, I wouldn't have minded him joining as a friend and coworker one bit, you know?"
"Me neither, Scratch - no idea how he coulda fit into our thing, but figuring that one out woulda been the job of Myers´s cronies and dang, did they blow that one. That´s the reason why I just blanked out like that when those OAFE guys started waffling on about retooling our show, pal - I don't think I could deal with that whole mess AGAIN and all…"
Nodding in understanding, Scratchy patted Itchys shoulder again.
"Again, I don't think that it´ll be like that, Itch - not with how nice Mr. Simpson seems to be, at least. Now, what say you we call it a day now, ol´ pal? Getting late, you know, and I think both of us could use some calm and quiet now."
"Good idea, Scratch - just gimme a moment to finish my bit here and I´ll be up for pretty much anything with my best friend."
With that, Itchy gently covered coulda-been-Poochie up again - "just for now until we can find a proper place for him," he mumbled loud enough for Scratchy to hear - and turned to the last shelf for today.
"Swords? Check.
Saws? Check.
Clubs? Check.
Claws? Check….aaaaand that's everything accounted for for now at least," Itchy finished his stock-taking with a relieved sigh before turning to his feline friend, "Thanks for hearing my moping, Scratch. I don't know where I'd be without you sometimes…"
"What are friends there for, Itch? Now, don't dwell on all that and just gimme a hug, you little whacko."
With that, the cat and mouse duo squeezed each other tightly for some time and simply enjoyed their decades-long, deep camaraderie until…
SHLKKT!
Scratchy chuckled knowingly while gasping in welcome pain as the dagger sunk deeply into his back where his kidney sometimes was, drawing blood.
"...called it - you needed that just now, eh, Itch?"
"Damn straight I did, Scratch - just like you did, hm?"
"So friggin much - we really are messed up in the head thanks to the likes of Lampwick and Myers, amirite?"
"Yup, but we make it work and that's all that matters - those like Doom be damned. Now, once we got you plugged up again, you up for some grub to celebrate us still going strong as a team? My treat."
With that, the two let go of each other again and Scratchy nodded happily.
"You got it, pal - as long it's not my guts that's on the menu again, you maniac."
Smirking with fond memories, Itchy threw up his hands in mock offense.
"That was one episode, you old nag - plus, we´ll be in public this time and so, we kinda need to play nice with the others, remember? Now, quit yammering already and let´s get you patched up, pal."
Flicking off the storage´s lights behind them, the two odd-yet-also-even friends went to enjoy the late afternoon air while bickering goodnaturedly about what to get on the way, not knowing that soon enough they'd find themselves swimming in the adoration of kids nation-wide and being offered more involved positions within their new boss´ company structure.
...Soooo, another omake/oneshot by yours truly, I guess?
This time we´re looking at the iconically visceral Toon duo of Itchy and Scratchy shortly before their soar in popularity in the wake of Abes marketing offense - more specifically we are following Scratchy as he searches for his longtime friend Itchy and unearthes some pretty painful memories for the both of them.
My main reason for writing this omake was to show that off-stage, *performers* like Itchy and Scratchy by necessity are often very different people from how they are on-stage - otherwise, Itchy in reality would be a complete and utter psychopath who routinely murders his hapless victims in insanely gory ways instead of a relatively grounded guy who´s secretly deeply troubled by some parts of his very nature in a world that neither likes nor understand what he´s doing.
Other than that, I chose to voice some gripes about some decisions that were made by our two Toons´ former bosses in the search for more mainstream acceptance and therefore money - namely *pretty much everything surrounding the half-assed creation and axing of Poochie the Wonder Dog within I & S "canon"*. As I said before on the quest thread, I am convinced that Poochie could have worked if Myers and his goons put any kind of actual effort into his integration into the show...
But yeah, if you don´t know, the title is a reference to "Confessions of an English Opium Easter", an autobiographic account written in the early 19th century.
Have fun^^
Confessions of an American Toon Sadist
The Krustylu Studios in Downtown Springfield might never have had the fame and glamour of Old Hollywood even in either place´s heyday, but it trudged along supported on material of questionable legal distinctiveness nevertheless - if anything, the Krusty Show as its "flagship" having pretty much exploded in popularity across the nation a few months ago while its far more renowned Californian rival groaned under the yoke of its resident magnate gave some people in town hopes that fortunes might yet reverse.
Not everyone had such lofty aspirations in mind, such as resident Toon Scratchy the Cat, who instead was looking for fellow animated entertainer Itchy the Mouse who also was his longtime co worker and, most importantly, best friend - something that shocked and surprised pretty much everyone who was solely familiar with their on-stage selves.
"Yeah, because all actors are exactly the same once they are in private…the nerve of some people", the toon cat grumbled uncharacteristically morose as he entered one of their show´s many storage halls on a hunch, "Seriously, that´s just how we are and it's not like we can help it much…now, where has that mousey maniac scurried off to again? He´s been grouchier than usual these last few days because...AH-HA! There he is, methinks…"
True enough, Scratch could hear some mumbled words emanating from one of the backend shelves that, on him getting closer still, soon revealed themselves as his friend standing there, clipboard and pen in hand while seemingly ticking off a list of sorts.
"Knives? Check.
Rope? Check.
Dagger? Check.
Chains? Check.
Rocks? Check.
Laser Beams? Check.
Acid? Check.
Body Bag? Check."
Immersed in his task, Itchy didn´t notice Scratchy approaching until he was standing right behind him.
"There you are, Itch - I´ve been looking for you. Whatcha doin´?" he asked chipperly, but not without suddenly feeling an unexplained sense of dread.
Startled like that, the mouse Toon frantically looked around before relaxing upon seeing his other half.
"Damnit, Scratch, you scared me half to death there - and wouldn´t that be some role-reversal for us two, eh? Ah, I´m just running some inventory of my instruments of pain for the next batch of skits, you know? Since I am the one between us two with even half a head for stocks stuff like that, I thought I'd get to it sooner rather than later."
"And those oafs from OAFE rumbling about retooling our show to `be more mainstream-appealing´ didn´t have anything to do with you storming off set like that, old pal? Come on, you know you can trust me - just tell me what's been eating you lately, Itch."
Obviously feeling caught by his old friend, Itchy sighed before replying.
"I really couldn´t fool you for even a second there, eh, Scratch?"
"Not while we´re off the clock, Itch - so fess up already, pal." the cat Toon responded gently without relenting.
"...I´m just so SICK of people getting on our case for not being like the other Toons, Scratch," his Mouse friend bit out after a moment, "and not just recently - been that way ever since I started out solo with Manhattan Madness. Seriously, it's that bastard Lampwick´s fault that I am hardwired to be that violent, not mine! I am TRYING to fit in with the other, `tamer´ Toons, for Pete´s sake…"
"Well, I´ll have to take your word for it there, Itch - I only came along years later for that lawsuit-ridden mess. Myers Sr. even had the gall to name Steamboat ITCHY as your partner, remember?", Scratchy reminded his old friend with a fond smile, "Made us start out on the wrong foot with the other Toons and all - those were the days…"
Groaning in annoyance, Itchy agreed.
"Yeah, especially that Other Mouse and that…Bear-Cat-guy got it out for the two of us early on because of that one. But eventually, it worked out just fine, I think - or at least fine enough for us two to get invited for that big brouhaha in the wake of Roger and Jessica tying the knot a few years before the War…heck, I still got the photo, you know?"
Knowing what was coming, Scratchy tried to prevent his buddy from making himself sad again. Unfortunately though, the mouse deftly avoided his grasping hands with practiced ease. So, the two friends beheld an aged, richly scribbled-on photograph featuring a veritable army of Toons from all the different studios active at the time, with younger versions of themselves standing a bit off to the left of that most joyous of days´ stars, then-freshly minted married couple Roger and Jessica Rabbit.
"Still feels a bit weird that out of all the different Toons there, it had been Jessica who´d click with us two the most," Scratchy mused, caught up in memories of brighter days for a moment, "even more so than her husband Roger and his best man `Baby Herman´, I mean."
"Honestly makes sense, once you think about it, Scratch - given how she was literally made to look like s-..in on legs above all else, she probably knew how it felt to be shunned for not fitting in `normal´ Toon society and just wanted to be nice to kindred souls."
"Yep - in the end, she simply was just drawn in a `bad way´…same as us, Itch."
"Just written like that, yeah - she was one fine lady…dang fine indeed."
For a moment, the two world-weary Toons just stood there in remembrance of a woman, their feelings for which they always suspected might not have been merely platonic at times. Ultimately though, it was Itchy who broke that musing-laden silence while reverently pocketing the memento again.
"...it shouldn´t have ended like it did…"
Sighing heavily, Scratchy shook his dead sorrowfully as bile started to rise in his throat and tears began to well up at the corner of his eyes.
"Nope, it shouldn´t have, Itch - to think that we did a bunch of propaganda cartoons against that German psychopath like everyone else was doing at the time, only for someone just like him and his butchers to spring up right here in the USA only a few years later…that has to be one sick and demented gag for sure, which given what the two of us are doing for a living is saying a lot."
Looking down at the photo again, the two of them took in the sheer magnitude of what had happened to "the Old Guard" of Toons from back then as was signified by their images having been crossed out or surrounded by question marks.
"...so many of our friends and colleagues dead, dropped off the radar or down on their luck enough to scrape by with bit jobs, Scratch - and all of it started after Roger supposedly went nuts enough to kill Acme after Jessica got caught playing patty-cakes with him, neither of which sat right to me despite those photos that Valiant apparently took."
"Didn´t with me either, Itch - those two loved each other so much and I just can´t imagine Jessica cheating on her bunny like that…honestly, if we had still been in LA that day instead of having taken a short vacation outta town to clear our heads, pretty sure we'd have been at the top of the list for Doom to make an example of `unruly Toons´"
"Forget about that, Scratch - if we had been around town back then, Doom woulda pinned Acme´s murder on us, no question asked," Itchy growled in anger at the painful memories before the fight left him and he simply sighed sadly, "or rather, he´d have grabbed me specifically and offed me right there without even an investigation…good riddance to bad rubbish, I guess….
"Please don't s-", Scratchy tried to respond, only let out a startled yelp as his hurting friend slammed his gloved fist into the nearby shelf and making the entire metal construct rattle from the force.
"Why not, Scratch? I know I am sick in the head for instinctively craving violence like that - and it's all the fault of that bastard Lampwick for making me that way." Itchy screamed in sheer self-loathing, clearly mentally damning his creator to the deepest pits of hell for the pain he´d put his "son" through, "Doom´s just some human jerk who doesn´t get what it means to HAVE to inflict pain on a fundamental level to be yourself - unlike that psycho bird Nega-Duck, I at least am trying to rein in my sadism and functioning `normally´. But in the end, deep down I am just some maniac deriving joy from other people's suffering and shoulda gotten Dipped long ago for the good of all.."
SLAP!
"Shut your trap, Itchy the Mouse - that´s my best friend you´re talking smack about!"
Momentarily stunned out of the depth of self-hatred, the Toon mouse held his burning cheek and stared back at Scratchy, who looked at him with frustrated determination blazing in his eyes.
"..you hit me!"
"Sry, buddy, I know that's not something we do normally, but I had to," the cat replied grimly, "yes, Lampwick messed up big time by creating you like that, but that´s on him - not you. And guess what? If you are cracked for needing to inflict pain as a gag, then so am I for needing to FEEL pain in order to create humor, thanks to how Myers Sr. made ME. Face it, Itch - you´re not alone in this."
With that, he put his hand on his friend's shoulder, which quickly made Itchy take a few steadying breaths. Once Itchy had calmed down again, Scratchy nodded at him with a smile.
"Lemme guess, pal - those OAFE oafs waffling on about retooling our show to be `more mainstream-friendly´ made you freak out about people like Doom, right?"
"He's definitely the absolutely worst of the bunch by a nautical mile, with him having looked for ages for any excuses to have us Dipped for being the way we are, but no," Itchy replied grimly, "it's also about more `mundane´ bastards like the two Myers guys having treated us like dirt over the decades - and I am not even talking about Myers Sr. having flat-out stolen my rights from Lampwick just because he could and then creating you after I proved too much to handle for everyone else. No, remember how his son did the bare minimum of work to make us turn a profit?"
"How could I ever forget that, Itch - after all, didn't he try to `make us more suitable for all ages´ as well after our new boss´ son almost got his head cracked open after…dunno, something about a baby recreating one of our skits or somesuch?" Scratchy then frowned as he tried remembering details, only to give up after a nasty headache assaulted him. "...didn´t Myers Jr. also threaten to throw us to Doom to get us Dipped if we didn´t `agree´ to the changes to the show?"
"...I think so? Getting harder to keep things straight in my head for some reason. But yeah, that's just it - everyone knows our show is brutal like no other, so no matter how much we really like making kids laugh, it's not our fault if some overworked housewife can´t supervise her baby properly, dangit! Seriously, I could never look at lemonade the same way afterwards and all…"
"Neither could I, pal - but trust me, I don't think it's like that at all. From all that talking between our human coworkers, Mr. Simpson seems to be a real swell guy who tries to make things work out for everyone involved because of that whole `family stays together´ spiel his company is doing. Heck, didn't you hear some of them talking about wanting to ask us two about ideas we might be having? Neither Myers woulda ever even considered doing that, you know?"
"You´re right, Scratch…and it's not even like I'd be totally against trying to tone our antics down every now and then in some form or another as a `sign of goodwill´ - I just want them to understand that on average, both of us need to be as gory as possible because that´s just how we are `wired´ and all. Ugh, such a damn mess have our two lives become, eh, pal? It's moments like that where I have to do stock-taking and stuff to cool off, weirdly enough…you mind?"
"Nono, go ahead, Itch - I´ll be there if you need anything," his cat Toon friend replied mellowly before leaning against a nearby wall and waiting. Itchy then nodded and resumed his list again.
"Shiv? Check.
Pipe? Check.
Hammer? Check.
Axe? Check.
S-hiiiiiitake mushroom! That's EXACTLY the kinda crap I've been talking about, Scratch!", the mouse angrily shrieked as he accidentally bumped into something covered by a dusty tarp, causing it to fall down and reveal the still and lifeless form…
…of their ill-fated co-star Poochie the Wonder Dog - or at least the proto-Toon "golem" that might have become a proper co-star of theirs with just the slightest bit of goodwill from anyone. But it had not meant to be back then and so, the walking 90s "cool dude" stereotype of an orange-brown cartoon dog had apparently been carelessly stashed away and hushed up after everything was said and done.
"Seriously, it wasn´t enough for that bastard Myers to get us censored for a bit - no, when we weren´t pulling in the amount of dosh he wanted, he just had his animators shoehorn in this cobbled-together mess to try making the show `hip´ again. Honestly, if there had been a way for him to just mix together garbage with a button press and pass it off as `art ´ without having to deal with actually creative people, he´d have happily used it to make even more moolah…shows how little those like that dang suit actually cared for everything about those like us, Scratch."
Sighing at his own sordid memories of the whole thing, Scratchy nodded sadly.
"Ain´t that the truth, Itchy - the whole mess wasn't even Poochie's fault at all, though…"
"Course it wasn't his fault - the poor sod did what he was told to by Myers and his goons like the good little marionette he was and still is thanks to them. Woulda helped if they had any coherent idea what they even wanted him to do in the first freaking place. But no siree, instead, all of them just threw everything they thought was `down with the kids these days´ into something having to pretend to be a character, shoved the result into our tight dynamic and expected it to magically work. Back then, they couldn't even explain what the heck `10% more Rasta´ was supposed to mean, for Christ's sake!"
"Beats me as well - you might just as well demand something to be `20% cooler´ or some other bupkis… same problem, although technically, `cooler´ could also refer to temperature and stuff, which would maybe work…"
"Oh, put a sock in it already, you dang nerd," Itchy chuckled goodnaturedly at his friend's runaway analogy before sobering up already, "but yeah, when Poochie predictably failed to just immediately click with the kids, Myers just axed him again on friggin Day Two or so and killed him off off-screen without fanfare. Heck, he didn't even have the dignity to either put him to the other Extras in one of the proper vaults or something like that - no, instead, he just had a friggin tarp put on the poor thing and washed his hands off the whole affair. But the worst about it all, Scratch? You probably caught onto it as well, hm old pal?"
"Sure I did, Itch - despite all the apathy or even outright hate his presence generated with the kids and no matter how little Myers and the other bozos cared about him…"
With that, the old cat Toon heaved another weary sigh before he voiced the revelation both of them had had that made the whole thing so bitter to them.
"...despite all that, something within that golem still tried desperately to truly come alive as a proper Toon. Heck, pretty sure that not much of a push was still missing for him to Spark - and honestly, I wouldn't have minded him joining as a friend and coworker one bit, you know?"
"Me neither, Scratch - no idea how he coulda fit into our thing, but figuring that one out woulda been the job of Myers´s cronies and dang, did they blow that one. That´s the reason why I just blanked out like that when those OAFE guys started waffling on about retooling our show, pal - I don't think I could deal with that whole mess AGAIN and all…"
Nodding in understanding, Scratchy patted Itchys shoulder again.
"Again, I don't think that it´ll be like that, Itch - not with how nice Mr. Simpson seems to be, at least. Now, what say you we call it a day now, ol´ pal? Getting late, you know, and I think both of us could use some calm and quiet now."
"Good idea, Scratch - just gimme a moment to finish my bit here and I´ll be up for pretty much anything with my best friend."
With that, Itchy gently covered coulda-been-Poochie up again - "just for now until we can find a proper place for him," he mumbled loud enough for Scratchy to hear - and turned to the last shelf for today.
"Swords? Check.
Saws? Check.
Clubs? Check.
Claws? Check….aaaaand that's everything accounted for for now at least," Itchy finished his stock-taking with a relieved sigh before turning to his feline friend, "Thanks for hearing my moping, Scratch. I don't know where I'd be without you sometimes…"
"What are friends there for, Itch? Now, don't dwell on all that and just gimme a hug, you little whacko."
With that, the cat and mouse duo squeezed each other tightly for some time and simply enjoyed their decades-long, deep camaraderie until…
SHLKKT!
Scratchy chuckled knowingly while gasping in welcome pain as the dagger sunk deeply into his back where his kidney sometimes was, drawing blood.
"...called it - you needed that just now, eh, Itch?"
"Damn straight I did, Scratch - just like you did, hm?"
"So friggin much - we really are messed up in the head thanks to the likes of Lampwick and Myers, amirite?"
"Yup, but we make it work and that's all that matters - those like Doom be damned. Now, once we got you plugged up again, you up for some grub to celebrate us still going strong as a team? My treat."
With that, the two let go of each other again and Scratchy nodded happily.
"You got it, pal - as long it's not my guts that's on the menu again, you maniac."
Smirking with fond memories, Itchy threw up his hands in mock offense.
"That was one episode, you old nag - plus, we´ll be in public this time and so, we kinda need to play nice with the others, remember? Now, quit yammering already and let´s get you patched up, pal."
Flicking off the storage´s lights behind them, the two odd-yet-also-even friends went to enjoy the late afternoon air while bickering goodnaturedly about what to get on the way, not knowing that soon enough they'd find themselves swimming in the adoration of kids nation-wide and being offered more involved positions within their new boss´ company structure.
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Yet another excellent (and canon) omake from the gleeman, this omake does apply for the Poochys Dead omake bounty and is full of character for the two local cat and mouse themed toons, alongside a image of the fate of our fa-... newes-... uhhh... the third one, choose between
Itchy and Scratchy gain a +10 bonus to their next national action
OR
Itchy and Scratchy gain a +20 to their first personal action
- Location
- Germany
...shiiiiit, that´s a tough one...
My decision here kinda depends on two things:
1. Which NAs would we want those two to tackle in the near future?
2. What PAs do they have right now?
Well we don't know what kinds of PAs they might have (though I suspect there will be one for reaching out with their Toon contacts to see who among their friends are still around). NA wise I expect we'll put them on entertainment actions mostly. Stuff like making more cartoons and so on
Also, and this is not me saying you should definitely pick this one, but it is generally a bit harder to get boosts to Personals than to nationals
Also, and this is not me saying you should definitely pick this one, but it is generally a bit harder to get boosts to Personals than to nationals
Last edited:
- Location
- Germany
*nods*
After some deliberation with my Beta, I decided to go for this one, if you guys please:
As was said, PA bonuses are harder to come by especially in that height and stuff, you know?
Hey, I found some stuff to correct and did my best to highlight them. I hope you can consider them. Thanks.
- Location
- Germany
Applied some of your changes because I don´t agree with all of them - and frankly, bit annoyed at you seemingly only commenting here to nitpick other people´s writing, ngl.
First, I am sorry my comment came off how you interpreted it. It seems I am the only one who bothers with criticism by my observing the comment thread. When there was no threadmark, I thought it okay to say something about it. Anyways, would a private message work next time, then? Thanks for the omake. Now I wonder if the Simpsons would have been better with Itchy and Scratchy characterized like that.
- Location
- Germany
For that to happen, they´d have to actually exist in-universe as persons, WFRR-style.
Aside from that, one idea I didn´t follow up on was somehow referencing the THOH segment where they become real and prey on Bart and Lisa - especially the bit about them being cops and Itchy accidentially sawing off Scratchys arms
...come to think of it, them being relatively friendly towards each other there might actually have influenced my portrayal of them as best friends whose idea of "roughhousing" is simply a bit...*off* from everyone else.
Huh...
Calabresi Carneficina
- Pronouns
- Female
Calabresi Carneficina
You were Fat Tony, and you couldn't be happier.
Everything has been REALLY on the upswing for you lately.
You had your men back together (even Frankie, who hasn't squealed on you!.... Granted he wasn't in a position to do so, but… eh), you were becoming top dog in the criminal element, you had steady legal employment, comrades if things got a bit too dicey…
And best of all, you had your beloved son.
Really, it still makes your blood boil sometimes, thinking about the fate that almost befell your beloved child. But you supposed it didn't matter, in the sense that the trio of ringleaders would be facing justice. Not the justice you liked in the case of the freaky fish guys (at least, you don't think Whiteman was officially set to be executed; you knew a hired thug when you saw one and had been mostly focused on Black), but justice nonetheless. And Black…
You smiled and chuckled darkly.
He would get what he deserves.
"What's so funny, Papa?"
You chuckled again, more genuinely this time, and patted Micheal on the head.
"Nothing, kiddo. Just… thinking." You assured him. Michael tilted his head but didn't ask for elaboration.
Honestly, probably for the best.
Right now, the two of you were making some risotto.
"You know, Micheal, you got a real gift for this." You smile. Micheal smiled back.
"You mean it?"
"Of course, son. Why, when you take over the family business, this will be a really good side hustle, y'dig? Every good made man needs a more…legitimate place of business." You nodded. Micheal suddenly frowned, and you felt a little uneasy.
"Papa… You would… still love me if I had a… different way of doing things, right?" Micheal began cautiously.
You raised an eyebrow, getting ever more concerned.
"Of course, Micheal. Why wouldn't I? Every man is going to run the family business a little differently. You think I run things exactly the same way as your grandfather?"
You try not to think about your father, despite the mention. Some wounds… Some wounds never fully heal, even with the best Mafia doctors. Metaphorically at least.
Micheal looked you in the eye, and you felt pure dread.
"...Papa, I don't want to be a Mafia Boss."
You stepped back as if punched.
"What?!" You gasped.
"I am sorry father, I really am, it's not that I disrespect you, or don't appreciate what you have done, it's just… not for me. I want to be a chef!" He exclaimed. You stare at him, too shocked to say anything.
"Papa-" Micheal started, but you can't look at him right now.
"Son… please go to your room…" You request.
"Papa-" Micheal started again.
"NOW!" You snap in a moment of rage, slamming your fist into the risotto. Micheal looks hurt, but he obeys, sulking off.
You stand there for a moment, trying to take a deep breath.
You hear a loud bang from upstairs, and freeze in your shock. Even at his angriest, Micheal NEVER slammed the door.
"....Cosa sto facendo… Micheal, wait…" You say, starting the slow march to his room when you hear that sound again.
Bang.
Bang!
BANG!
You break into a dead sprint when you hear the sound of a broken window
BANG!!
You blink, and see yourself sprinting up the stairs, feet hammering against the marble. Your hear, and feel your heart beating like a jackhammer. Even still, you double time it because you catch the smell of gunpowder
BANG BANG BANG/
WHAM
Another blink and you hurtle through his bedroom door.
Suddenly, time seems to stand still. Tearing your eyes open, you see Michael falling to the floor, ducking behind his bed. Shards of glass rain from his window and you can see the outline of a car behind a wall of muzzle flashes.
You see the bullets coming. You see your son, your beloved son, about to be hit. You try your best to get there, to shield him, to protect him!!
But you're too late.
The bullets go through the window and Micheal is hit twice, once in the leg and once in the stomach.
NOOOOOOO!!!
You bellow in fear, grief and rage, the emotions making a dangerous cocktail as you approach.
You hold your son in your arms, uncaring if any other bullets come.
"P-Papa… I'm… s-sorry…" He wheezes, before his eyes close.
"NO! NO, BEDDA MADRE PLEASE NO!" You panic, desperately feeling for a pulse.
…It's there. It's faint, it's faintbut!..it's there.
As you carry him, panting and terrified to the garage, you hear familiar laughter.
A wrinkled man with a grey suit and red tie flees in his own car flanked by goons.
Calabresi… You almost snarl, but you're too worried for Micheal to stew.
You put him in your fastest car and head towards the nearest hospital.
Xxx
"You got him here just in time, Tony." Dr. Hibbert said, though you were barely listening. You stared at your son, your only son, laying in a hospital bed. He had survived, but the injuries were severe. He's comatose.
A hand was put on your shoulder.
"You did everything you could. He's… as fine as he can be: there's a 91% chance he'll wake up." You dont speak or turn your head to face the doctor. "It's a better shot than most in his position." Hibbert assured.
It gave you a little comfort, but not much. Not enough…
You feel like you've been in that room for hours, standing his side. Watching every breathe like the next could be his last.
"it's a better shot than most in his position"
That word echoes through your mind and make you want to laugh. Or punch a wall, or tear your own heart out and crush it like a cinderblock! You want to see Micheal open his eyes again and tell him that you were a fool! No, a dog!
But that wont make things right. The only thing that you can think of, that could even come close to it?
Putting the Calabresi family in the ground.
You planted a kiss on Micheal's forehead, nodded gratefully at Hibbert, and made your way outside to the parking lot. Louie and Johnny were waiting for you, the duo looking more serious then you've ever seem from them.
"Hmmph. Did you get the goods?"
"We didn't.. but someone else did." Johnny said. He was quick and direct, which was a first.
The two nod their heads as a familiar co-worker' car pulled in and rolled down its window.
"I'm sorry about the kid, Tony. Really, I am." Moe frowned.
"Shut up and show me the goods." You growled.
"Alright, alright… Yeesh, sorry for trying to be nice…" Moe mumbled. He looked around before pulling in a crate from his own car.
Louie opened it with a crowbar, revealing some bulky guns with strange points.
"Are these…?" He blinked.
"Bonafide laser guns. Got them from some professor..nimnul? Doesn't matter: they're in our hands now. Well, yours." He makes a show of zipping his lips. "And I ain't seen nothing."
You nodded at the man, darkly grateful but but unable to express it as you pulled out one of the guns. It was smaller than you thought it would be, which made it easily concealed and possibly designed as a sidearm. Regardless…
You gripped the handle tightly.
It'll work just fine.
Those Calabresi wanted to play dirty?
Then you'll play ball.
Results: The Calabresi have returned to Springfield and have injured Micheal. Multiple revenge-based personal actions are unlocked for Fat Tony, one of which must be taken next turn.
You were Fat Tony, and you couldn't be happier.
Everything has been REALLY on the upswing for you lately.
You had your men back together (even Frankie, who hasn't squealed on you!.... Granted he wasn't in a position to do so, but… eh), you were becoming top dog in the criminal element, you had steady legal employment, comrades if things got a bit too dicey…
And best of all, you had your beloved son.
Really, it still makes your blood boil sometimes, thinking about the fate that almost befell your beloved child. But you supposed it didn't matter, in the sense that the trio of ringleaders would be facing justice. Not the justice you liked in the case of the freaky fish guys (at least, you don't think Whiteman was officially set to be executed; you knew a hired thug when you saw one and had been mostly focused on Black), but justice nonetheless. And Black…
You smiled and chuckled darkly.
He would get what he deserves.
"What's so funny, Papa?"
You chuckled again, more genuinely this time, and patted Micheal on the head.
"Nothing, kiddo. Just… thinking." You assured him. Michael tilted his head but didn't ask for elaboration.
Honestly, probably for the best.
Right now, the two of you were making some risotto.
"You know, Micheal, you got a real gift for this." You smile. Micheal smiled back.
"You mean it?"
"Of course, son. Why, when you take over the family business, this will be a really good side hustle, y'dig? Every good made man needs a more…legitimate place of business." You nodded. Micheal suddenly frowned, and you felt a little uneasy.
"Papa… You would… still love me if I had a… different way of doing things, right?" Micheal began cautiously.
You raised an eyebrow, getting ever more concerned.
"Of course, Micheal. Why wouldn't I? Every man is going to run the family business a little differently. You think I run things exactly the same way as your grandfather?"
You try not to think about your father, despite the mention. Some wounds… Some wounds never fully heal, even with the best Mafia doctors. Metaphorically at least.
Micheal looked you in the eye, and you felt pure dread.
"...Papa, I don't want to be a Mafia Boss."
You stepped back as if punched.
"What?!" You gasped.
"I am sorry father, I really am, it's not that I disrespect you, or don't appreciate what you have done, it's just… not for me. I want to be a chef!" He exclaimed. You stare at him, too shocked to say anything.
"Papa-" Micheal started, but you can't look at him right now.
"Son… please go to your room…" You request.
"Papa-" Micheal started again.
"NOW!" You snap in a moment of rage, slamming your fist into the risotto. Micheal looks hurt, but he obeys, sulking off.
You stand there for a moment, trying to take a deep breath.
You hear a loud bang from upstairs, and freeze in your shock. Even at his angriest, Micheal NEVER slammed the door.
"....Cosa sto facendo… Micheal, wait…" You say, starting the slow march to his room when you hear that sound again.
Bang.
Bang!
BANG!
You break into a dead sprint when you hear the sound of a broken window
BANG!!
You blink, and see yourself sprinting up the stairs, feet hammering against the marble. Your hear, and feel your heart beating like a jackhammer. Even still, you double time it because you catch the smell of gunpowder
BANG BANG BANG/
WHAM
Another blink and you hurtle through his bedroom door.
Suddenly, time seems to stand still. Tearing your eyes open, you see Michael falling to the floor, ducking behind his bed. Shards of glass rain from his window and you can see the outline of a car behind a wall of muzzle flashes.
You see the bullets coming. You see your son, your beloved son, about to be hit. You try your best to get there, to shield him, to protect him!!
But you're too late.
The bullets go through the window and Micheal is hit twice, once in the leg and once in the stomach.
NOOOOOOO!!!
You bellow in fear, grief and rage, the emotions making a dangerous cocktail as you approach.
You hold your son in your arms, uncaring if any other bullets come.
"P-Papa… I'm… s-sorry…" He wheezes, before his eyes close.
"NO! NO, BEDDA MADRE PLEASE NO!" You panic, desperately feeling for a pulse.
…It's there. It's faint, it's faintbut!..it's there.
As you carry him, panting and terrified to the garage, you hear familiar laughter.
A wrinkled man with a grey suit and red tie flees in his own car flanked by goons.
Calabresi… You almost snarl, but you're too worried for Micheal to stew.
You put him in your fastest car and head towards the nearest hospital.
Xxx
"You got him here just in time, Tony." Dr. Hibbert said, though you were barely listening. You stared at your son, your only son, laying in a hospital bed. He had survived, but the injuries were severe. He's comatose.
A hand was put on your shoulder.
"You did everything you could. He's… as fine as he can be: there's a 91% chance he'll wake up." You dont speak or turn your head to face the doctor. "It's a better shot than most in his position." Hibbert assured.
It gave you a little comfort, but not much. Not enough…
You feel like you've been in that room for hours, standing his side. Watching every breathe like the next could be his last.
"it's a better shot than most in his position"
That word echoes through your mind and make you want to laugh. Or punch a wall, or tear your own heart out and crush it like a cinderblock! You want to see Micheal open his eyes again and tell him that you were a fool! No, a dog!
But that wont make things right. The only thing that you can think of, that could even come close to it?
Putting the Calabresi family in the ground.
You planted a kiss on Micheal's forehead, nodded gratefully at Hibbert, and made your way outside to the parking lot. Louie and Johnny were waiting for you, the duo looking more serious then you've ever seem from them.
"Hmmph. Did you get the goods?"
"We didn't.. but someone else did." Johnny said. He was quick and direct, which was a first.
The two nod their heads as a familiar co-worker' car pulled in and rolled down its window.
"I'm sorry about the kid, Tony. Really, I am." Moe frowned.
"Shut up and show me the goods." You growled.
"Alright, alright… Yeesh, sorry for trying to be nice…" Moe mumbled. He looked around before pulling in a crate from his own car.
Louie opened it with a crowbar, revealing some bulky guns with strange points.
"Are these…?" He blinked.
"Bonafide laser guns. Got them from some professor..nimnul? Doesn't matter: they're in our hands now. Well, yours." He makes a show of zipping his lips. "And I ain't seen nothing."
You nodded at the man, darkly grateful but but unable to express it as you pulled out one of the guns. It was smaller than you thought it would be, which made it easily concealed and possibly designed as a sidearm. Regardless…
You gripped the handle tightly.
It'll work just fine.
Those Calabresi wanted to play dirty?
Then you'll play ball.
Results: The Calabresi have returned to Springfield and have injured Micheal. Multiple revenge-based personal actions are unlocked for Fat Tony, one of which must be taken next turn.
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- Location
- Nice try
Sell jinda expected woth the organized crime life.
Underdog Emiya
God-Emperor of Underkind
- Location
- Brazil
- Pronouns
- He
Folks...do the Calabresi have any prize horses?
they have a expensive attack helicopter (they originally used it to attack tony in the show)
- Location
- NJ
If these guys want a war, it's a war they'll get!
They sent one of ours to the hospital, we'll send all of theirs to the morgue! That's the Springfield way!
- Location
- Nice try
Jokes aside I think we should genuine put trainign on Springfield police now, specially since the city will be embroiled in a gang war and one aide is using laser guns and the other likely will escale to match that.
Let's put Homer to train them, Spring Shield legacy will live on!
Nit to mention it nay lower the casualities of innocent caugh the in the crossfire and the numerous of offciers killed as well.
Let's put Homer to train them, Spring Shield legacy will live on!
Nit to mention it nay lower the casualities of innocent caugh the in the crossfire and the numerous of offciers killed as well.
Travler66
Let her name echo in song!
- Location
- Beyond
I'm sorry to say that I'm not sure how to feel about this.
If Fat Tony just had a falling out with his son, it would be one thing, but his son being wounded and a gang war being kicked off in Springfield without any prior build-up feels extreme. Not to mention it happens so quickly. I'm not against the result, but still.
I know it's a crit-fail and you're working with what the dice gave you, but I feel this could have been done better.
If Fat Tony just had a falling out with his son, it would be one thing, but his son being wounded and a gang war being kicked off in Springfield without any prior build-up feels extreme. Not to mention it happens so quickly. I'm not against the result, but still.
I know it's a crit-fail and you're working with what the dice gave you, but I feel this could have been done better.
if you think that fair enough, we shall try and improve things next time (not next mob war i mean the next nat 1 that happens.)
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- Location
- Louisville, KY
When the car pulled up I thought it was gonna be Flanders and Homer joining Fat Tony in kicking these Mafia asses for hurting a child.
- Location
- Germany
....honestly feared that would happen, but just to be sure:
Do we still get the perks from the Arming the Mob NA or did that get "cancelled" by Michael getting shot?
Anyway, regardless of the particulars, that means we have to invest some actions in retaliatory actions - meaning Training the Cops to prevent this smoldering mob war from getting outta hand (and yes, I wouldn´t mind Homer trying it *if not for that damn "Box of Donuts" trait*) as well as exertign SOME form of revenge on the Calabresis
But silver lining? This hit might be enough to at least sow doubt within FT if he *REally* wants his only son to inherit the family business and all...
Do we still get the perks from the Arming the Mob NA or did that get "cancelled" by Michael getting shot?
Anyway, regardless of the particulars, that means we have to invest some actions in retaliatory actions - meaning Training the Cops to prevent this smoldering mob war from getting outta hand (and yes, I wouldn´t mind Homer trying it *if not for that damn "Box of Donuts" trait*) as well as exertign SOME form of revenge on the Calabresis
But silver lining? This hit might be enough to at least sow doubt within FT if he *REally* wants his only son to inherit the family business and all...
The personals unlocked can grant more martial then the original action would have and improve his mafia traits, while opinion has remained unchanged due to the Nat 1, it would have dropped significantly but it was cancelled by the crit success
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- Location
- Germany
*nods*
So it´s less bad than the Nat 1 from Frinks cockup at least - that´s good