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Roger scurried about between cabinets full of fine dining wares. He rushed back and forth from them to the table in the center of the room, where he had stacked all manner of silver eating utensils and fancy drinking glasses. Gin sat on the couch up against the wall and watched the manic rabbit. Snickering, the green and black coyote shook his head.

“You really shouldn’t get so worked up. We’ve done more catering jobs than I can count. This one isn’t any different,” Gin said.

“Are you nuts?” Roger asked, doing a quick count of the glasses as he placed them on a tray. “Catering the don’s ball isn’t just another ordinary party job. Especially not after how much money he loaned me. If we screw this up, he’s going to have my hide!”

Gin chuckled and rolled his eyes. “It’s just the possum gang. They’re probably all talk.”

Roger walked over, dropped into the recliner chair beside the couch, and propped his tired feet up on the footrest. “All talk, are you kidding me? They’re the most ruthless gang in the city! The boss said that if I mess up this catering gig, I might end up taking a long swim in the dip!”

The sight of the rabbit’s long, pink soles immediately made Gin drool. He scurried to the end of the couch and reached out to swipe a nail at one of them. But Roger pulled them back and wagged a finger at him.

“Hey, this isn’t any time to play around. We have to have this stuff at the party in...ten minutes!? Oh my geez, I lost track of the time!” Roger shouted, clutching his cheeks in his hands.

“It’s just across the street,” Gin said, shrugging. “I’m sure we can make it in time.”

Roger hopped off the chair and raced over to the window. He looked out at the banquet hall, across the street from their catering office. The possum gang’s party was on the fourth floor, the same as theirs.

“Look at all this stuff! We’ll never get it over there and set up in time,” Roger said in a panic.

Joining him at the window, Gin rubbed his chin. “Hey, look! There’s a laundry line between our floor and theirs. You have experience with balancing acts, right? You could carry all the stuff across real fast.”

“Hmm...”

It had been a long time since Roger had to do any kinds of acrobatics. He hadn’t practiced those skills since his earliest TV episodes. But Gin had a point; it was likely the only way he’d get the dining ware over before the party began. Sighing, he hurried over to the table and began stacking plates and crystal glasses on top of the biggest silver platter.

“Alright. This is going to be risky, but it’s my only hope. Let’s hope this works. Otherwise, you might be seeing my picture in the morning paper!”

Gin slid the window open for him. Roger picked up the platter, climbed out the window, and balanced on the ledge. He nervously stretched out a leg and placed the very tip of his toe on the wire.

“Easy does it now…” he whispered.

His toes flattened down against the cable. It stretched down a bit under his weight as he cautiously took a step with his other leg. The platter of dishes wobbled back and forth as he found his balance.

“Alright, Roger, you can do this,” he said to himself. “One step at a time.”

The glasses clanked and clattered as he made his way across. Of course, he did so slowly. He held his breath with each step, glancing between the wire and the tray. It suddenly felt like his destination of the window at the end was a mile away. But he continued on; a vat of dip was the best motivator in the world.

“Easy does it. Already halfway there, heh!”

“Careful, Roger!” Gin shouted from behind him.

Just as the toon rabbit reached the middle of the line, he felt something wrong. The twines of the wire began to creak under his weight. His eyes grew as big as dinner plates as he felt the wire tremble beneath him.

“Wait, oh no!” Roger yelled. “Eep!”

He wobbled backwards, desperately turning the tray as he struggled to keep the dishes on it. Then it happened. A loud twang rang out as the tense wire snapped right beneath his toes.

“Roger!” Gin cried out, leaning out from the windowsill.

“Eeeeagh!”

Roger’s moved out of pure reflex as he fell. Stretching out his legs in either direction, he deftly squeezed the ends of the wires between his toes. He managed to grab them just in time to stop the two ends from flying away. It left the toon between the two lengths of wire, with one end squeezed between the toes of his left foot, and the other squeezed between the toes of his right foot.

“Aaaagh! Gin, help me!” Roger shouted.

The tension of the wires left him doing the splits between them. Fortunately, he had managed to keep his grip on the tray. He held it above his head to help him maintain his balance and let out a sigh of relief. Still, he had only the most tenuous grip on the wires between his toes. He knew that the slippery material wouldn’t hold forever.

“Hold on, Roger! I’m coming,” Gin yelled.

Climbing out of the window, the coyote grabbed the wire and wrapped his legs around it. He slowly inched his way over to his friend. After a few moments of trying to keep himself from looking down, he reached Roger’s foot.

“Quick! Climb over me and take these dishes over to the party. Then you can come back and get me,” Roger said.

A devious grin crossed over Gin’s face. Even though he wanted to help him, the sight of Roger’s bare, vulnerable foot offered a tempting target. The rabbit hadn’t allowed him to tickle him earlier; now he wouldn’t have a choice.

“You’ve always had such cute feet, Roger. It would be a real shame if somebody was to, I dunno, maybe tickle them right now. Hee hee,” Gin teased.

Gasping, Roger froze up. “No, no no! Please, Gin, not that! Don’t tickle! I’ll fall!”

“Coochie coo,” Gin hummed, reaching out a hand and menacingly wiggling his fingers.

“Eeeep!”

Gin extended a single fingertip. The claw on the end was a deep black that glistened in the sunlight, and the coyote had filed it to a fine point. He knew Roger’s pink sole didn’t stand a chance against it. The lone nail pressed into the expanse of soft sole. Dimpling against the ball of his foot, it scraped down his long paw in a single swipe. Roger yelped in laughter from the tickle. Combined with the involuntary jerk it sent across his body, it was enough to rattle the glasses on the platter.

“Eeahaha! Gin, stop playing around. I can’t afford to drop even one of these!” Roger pleaded.

But the coyote simply giggled in response. He had already decided that he was going to have some fun. Crawling further down the line and closer to Roger, he shook his head.

“This is what you get for teasing me with your cute feet all the time!”

He leaned over and grabbed one of the yellow buttons on Roger’s overalls. Popping it free, he quickly did the same to the other one. The clothing flopped down to bare the rabbit’s chest and stomach. Gin rubbed his palms together with impish glee at the sight of the fuzzy, white tummy.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Roger asked, his voice wavering.

Squeezing Roger’s flanks, Gin started to lightly tug at the sides of his belly. He snickered. Roger had a very ticklish upper body, and the coyote had always enjoyed teasing him by making a game out of tickling it. Pulling the soft skin of his stomach to the sides, he pretended as though he was making it talk.

“Do you have a ticklish stomach, hmm?” Gin asked in a silly voice.

Breezy giggled started to bubble up from Roger. The crystal glasses clattered and swayed as his friend’s fingertips dipped into the edges of his torso. Frantically shaking his head, he tried to keep his balance.

“Ohohoho, oheee hee ha! G-Gin, oh please! I’m gohohooaha-gonna drop them, it tihihi-tickles!”

But he continued to tickle. Grabbing the soft flanks, pinching just above his hips with his thumbs and index fingers, sliding his hands over to wiggle his claws against the front of his stomach, he sent the rabbit into a helpless fit of giggles. And he jerked around harder the more Gin tickled him.

“Wahahaiiiit! G-G-Gihihin, they’re falling!”

The coyote watched as two of the expensive, crystal glasses tumbled from the top of the stack and shattered on the paved street below. But he was caught up in the fun of the moment. Unfortunately for Roger, the mischievous coyote had no intention of stopping before he’d had his fill of making him squirm.

“Tickle tickle! Aww, are you a ticklish bunny rabbit?” Gin taunted, kneading his fingertips right above Roger’s hips. “Are ya?”

“Bahahaeee hee haw! Y-you know I aahaham!”

It was when Gin’s fingertips started to skitter upwards that Roger really panicked. His underarms were deliriously ticklish; one little poke would be enough to make him melt. And it looked like that’s exactly where they were headed. The coyote’s manicured claws tapped their way up his sides and over his ribs, climbing their way to the rabbit’s vulnerable armpits.

“Ahahaha ohohoo noaha-nahat-not there! Please!” Roger wailed, shaking his head as laughter poured from his muzzle.

“Uh oh, I think I know where you’re super, duper ticklish!” Gin cooed.

He suddenly stuck his wiggling fingers into the smooth, warm curves of Roger’s underarms. The very edges of his claws turned down to touch against the skin. It was a very light pressure, because he knew that’s all he needed. Gin didn’t want it to hurt at all. No, he simply wanted it to be unbearably ticklish.

“Eeeeeyaaap!”

Those pokes against his underarms were enough to send Roger’s body into a violent lurch. As he burst into belly laughs, his arms flailed and the tray went flying. One crash after another rang out from below as all of the crystal glasses shattered into bits against the street. The impact from the silver tray gave a final clang.

“Geeehee hee haw haaa! G-Gihihin, stahahap! I cahahan’t hang on!”

“Whoa!”

Roger’s grip with his toes had already slipped before the words were even out of his mouth. The wire still connected to the party hall flung away, sending Roger and Gin swinging back against the building. Gin clung onto the wire, while Roger dangled upside down below. He managed to hold on with the wire between two of his toes. Howling in panic, he tried to crane himself up to grab the wire.

“Gin, help!” he cried. “I’m slipping.”

Reaching down and squeezing Roger’s gloved hand, Gin snatched the rabbit and threw him back up through the open window into the catering business.

“Up you go!” Gin chuckled.

Flying through the window with a yell, Roger jumped back to his feet and started pulling the rope up. Gin scrambled through the windowsill as soon as he was close enough. The two finally collapsed on the ground, catching their breath.

“You’re lucky we’re not both squashed like pancakes right now, you goof,” Roger muttered.

Shrugging, Gin giggled. “Sorry. But I just couldn’t help it. You know how much I like your feet.”

“Harumph. Wait a minute...” Roger said, perking up as the realization of what had occurred sank in. “...the glasses! Gin, we broke all of the boss’ glasses! Those were family heirlooms, he’s going to kill me!”

“Uh. Whoops...” Gin said, nervously chuckling as he blushed. “I guess I got a little carried away.”

“We have to get down there right now and come up with something to tell the possum gang. Come on. You got me into this, and you have to help get me out.”

The pair rushed out of the room, ran down the stairwell, and headed into the street. But they stopped dead in their tracks as soon as they hit the sidewalk. Across the road, a trio of possum gangsters stood in front of the banquet hall. They ran towards them as soon as they saw the two step out of the door.

“Ack! H-hold on a minute, boys! This was just all a little accident, you see? I would just like a quick talk with the boss so I can apologize for all this inconvenience, heh,” Roger said, trembling as they barreled towards him.

“Vinny, Sal, Marcello! Long time, no see,” Gin said.

The trio of possums wore suits typical of the gangster cartoons they originated from. Pinstripe suits with wide-brimmed hats immediately identified them as members of the city’s organized crime underground. Vinny wore a suit of blue, Sal one of red, and Marcello one of green. Leading them ahead, Vinny wagged a finger at Gin.

“Don’t you play dumb to me, wise guy,” he said to the coyote. “I saw the whole thing. You made bunny boy here drop the boss’ things. Those were worth more than you.”

Gin chuckled and shook his head. “H-hey fellas, I just got a little carried away. Agh!”

Interrupting him, the three grabbed him and pulled him across the road. They were having none of his excuses. Roger ran behind them, pleading for them to let go of his friend. Chucking him into the back of their parked van, they slammed the doors shut.

Just before they closed, Gin stretched out his arms in an attempt to grab Roger. But the rabbit wasn’t close enough to grab his hands. Gin fell short and caught his ankles instead. It was just in time for the doors to close around them as the coyote tumbled back.

The gangsters had already hopped into the front of the van. Roger’s eyes bugged out as it began to peel out into the street. Frantically tugging his legs, he flailed his arms.

“Hey, wait! I’m stuck back here!” he shouted.

All he could do as the van raced forward was latch onto the pole of a streetlight. Of course, that didn’t stop the van. His midsection began to stretch out in a cartoonish fashion as the van screamed down the road. It was soon miles away, leaving him desperately clinging to the stop sign.

“Ack, help!” he yelled, barely keeping his grip.

Back in the van, Gin looked around. The interior was nothing but gray walls. There wasn’t so much as a window, and he had no means of cracking the door open. Roger’s pink and white feet distracted him from the dire situation. Grim as it was, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his friend’s cute, wiggling paws.

“Hee hee. I don’t think Roger would mind if I have just a little more fun,” he whispered to himself.

The playful coyote began to play with the helpless rabbit paws. Pinching a toe between his thumb and index fingers, he gently wiggled it around. He gently scratched a fingernail around the base of another. It caused them to twitch and wag, which immediately brought a delighted smile to his face.

“Aww, Roger is so ticklish!” he giggled, scribbling his claw tips up and down the soles.

Back at the stop sign, Roger’s ears perked on end when he felt the sudden sensation of having his feet tickled.

“Eeek! G-Gin, what ahahare yooohoho-you doing!?” he asked.

Of course, the coyote couldn’t hear him. Roger’s only option was to grit his teeth together. He did his best to fight back the laughter bubbling up in his chest. It wasn’t easy; his face soon contorted into a wobbly smile.

“Nnk, th-this is a bad time to be tickled, Gin!” he whimpered.

In the van, the coyote happily started to tug and rub at the rabbit’s toes. Kneading his thumbs at their bases sent them curling and wiggling. He found it so cute that he couldn’t help but do it to each and every one.

That wasn’t the end of his problems. It got even worse as Roger’s armpit developed a horrible itch. He grimaced as it grew worse and worse; his body had chosen the worst possible time for it. Barely clinging to the pole, he knew he couldn’t afford to let go with one of his hands and scratch it. If he did, he’d lose his grip right away.

“Agh, n-no, grnkk!” he whined, holding in his laughter while simultaneously wincing from the worsening itch.

Just then, he saw someone walking towards him on the sidewalk. It was another bunny rabbit. This one was white, like him, but also covered in splotches of mint green. As he strolled towards Roger, the bunny perked an eyebrow at the curious sight.

“Uh, are you alright?” he asked, staring at the stretched toon.

“Gnnf, w-well, now that you mention it...” Roger said, knitting his brow. “I’ve got an awful itch under my arm and I’m in a bit of a bind. Do you think you could help me out, pal?”

Chuckling, the white and green bunny nodded. “I’d be happy to.”

He reached out, poked a fingertip into Roger’s underarm, and started to lightly scratch. But the soft touch sent another ticklish shiver through Roger. His brow quivered and he squeaked.

“Ohoho, oh please, b-be cahaha-careful! Ahahaee hee thaha-that tickles!”

Giggling, the other bunny beamed a smile. “Aww, that’s so cute! Tickle tickle!”

His other hand slipped into Roger’s underarm, and he started gingerly scratching both of them. The tickle attack finally cracked him. Bursting out in laughter, his goofy grin gave way to a torrent of laughter as both his underarms and his feet were tickled at the same time. He could feel his tenuous grip on the pole slipping.

“Ahahaha hee hee ha! Ohoho noho, w-wahiahia-wait!”

Fingertips swirling around in his armpits left Roger a giggling mess. They effortlessly flicked and danced while he lapsed into fits of laughter. They alternated between dragging around and delivering countless scratches.

“Bahahahaw haw heeee hee ha hah! Stahahahap! Wahahah hee ha!”

The intensity of his laughter kept him from getting the right words out to plead with the other rabbit. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he suddenly felt something soft touch down against his stretched middle. Luck wasn’t on his side. Several birds chose his stomach as a perch, brushing their feathered bodies against him and lightly pecking his skin.

“Geehee hee ha hah ha! Ohoho pleheheease, stahahap!” he wailed.

A whole miniature flock of them gathered along the length of his stretched tummy. He felt the blunted tips of their beaks pecking and prodding through his fur to the tender skin beneath. Some of them scratched with their tiny talons, ruffling their nails through his belly fuzz. Each little scrape and hop sent another ticklish burst of giggles welling up in his throat.

“Ohohoho hee haw haw! Oh no, nohohohahahaeee, pleehehee-please! I cahahan’t take it!” he mewled, shaking his head.

But the straw that broke the camel’s back came from inside the van. Gin could no longer resist; the mischievous coyote bent down and started lapping at his friend’s feet. He happily slapped his tongue against Roger’s soles. The wet, slippery appendage sent ticklish sensations cascading over the rabbit’s paws. His toes splayed and madly wiggled under the assault.

“Ahahahaeeehee hee ha hah hahaheeeiiii! Ohohoho ho noohohoahaha! I c-cahahah-cahan’t hold on!” Roger cackled.

Spearing his tongue between two of Roger’s toes, Gin wrapped his lips over them. The eager suckling tickled horribly. But the quick succession of licks that followed was even worse. His tongue slapped at the bottoms of Roger’s feet. Over and over, it lapped at them while they madly wiggled.

The wet, warm appendage dragged its way over his soles. No matter how fast he wagged his feet, Roger couldn’t keep them away from Gin. He kept up with every movement.

“GEEE EEEE HEE HAH HA HAHA! G-GIHIHIHIH-GIN! STAHAHAP!” Roger begged.

Sure enough, his gloved fingers began to slide around the edge of the pole. The tickling racing across his body made his thing arms quiver. He could only helplessly laugh as his underarms, stomach, and feet were tickled simultaneously. One more lick from Gin was all it took to make him lose his grip.

“AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEK!” he howled.

Having been stretched so far meant that he snapped back towards his feet like a slingshot as soon as his hands left the pole. It took him a few moments of zipping through the air before he caught up with his lower body, simply because of how far it had stretched.

When he finally did, he slammed into the back of the parked van. The trio of possums had already jumped out of it and were waiting for him. Each held a length of rope. Once Roger collapsed against the ground, they quickly tied it around his midsection and his ankles. They then opened up the back of the van, dragged Gin out, and did the same to him.

“Hold on there, fellas! Are you sure we can’t talk about this? It’s just a little misunderstanding!” Roger said.

“You pipe down,” Vinny said. “Our boss would like to have a little talk with you two.”

They had parked next to a rickety, old warehouse near the docks. It was exactly the kind of place the mob liked to take toons when they needed to deal with them out of sight. Gin and Roger exchanged worried looks, and started squirming as the possums lugged them inside the warehouse’s freight door.

Waiting inside a hulking possum in a dark grey suit. He held a cigar with one hand, while the other hung in his front pocket. Vinny, Sal, and Marcello dragged Roger and Gin in front of him while he took a long puff from his smoke.

“So these are the two blockhead toons that wrecked my dinner party,” he muttered.

Val furrowed his brow and glared at Roger. “This is them, boss.”

Roger recognized that massive possum. It was Don Gianteli, the godfather of the entire possum mob. He was the one who had hired the catering business for the party, and he had a reputation that made the rabbit’s ears wilt.

“Aheh heh, w-well Mr. Gianteli, uh, sir, this was all just an unfortunate little accident,” Roger stuttered. “But if you give me a little more time, I can replace everything we broke. Promise!”

“No more time for you two. I already had to call in another caterer at the last minute for my party, and that kept all my guests waiting. Do you have any idea how bad of a host that makes me out to be? No, you two clowns are going to get what you earned.”

Gianteli pulled the hand from his pocket and snapped his fingers. The three minions dropped Roger and Gin. Walking to the back of the warehouse, they dragged in two other toons that were also tightly bound in ropes. Roger and Gin could only watch in growing fear as they brought them closer.

One was a green dinosaur with a purple mohawk. Dressed in a black t-shirt, torn jeans, and sneakers, he looked like some kind of skater punk. The other was a black and white skunk. He was smaller in stature than the dinosaur, wearing thick eyeglasses, a long-sleeved blue shirt, and white pants. Both of them struggled as the possums pulled them closer.

“Hey, let go of me!” the dinosaur yelled.

The skunk’s tail whipped around as he wiggled. “Help! Help!”

“These two chumps thought they could get on our bad side and walk away, too,” Gianteli said, motioning his thumb towards them. “Before you two get it, we’re going to show you how we don’t mess around.”

While Vinny and Sal held the two captives, Marcello retreated into the darkness at the back of the warehouse. A loud scraping echoes from behind the stacks of crates and oil drum barrels. He pushed a massive, glass vat, comically much larger than himself. Each side of it had a ladder to allow someone to climb up to the rim.

“We’re going to dump these two lugs in there,” Vinny said, letting out a menacing chuckle. “And then we’re going to fill it with the dip.”

“Eeeep!” the skunk yelled.

“Wait, you can’t do that!” the dinosaur screamed.

First, they untied the dinosaur. He immediately started kicking and thrashing, but the three possums were more than enough to hold him. They climbed him up the ladder and heaved him over the opening at the top. Stretching out, he managed to catch one side of the rim with his fingers and the other side with his toes. He was just barely tall enough to reach. Left precariously clinging to the rim, he was unable to pull himself up.

“Gah! H-hey, get me down from here!”

Sal snickered. “Oh don’t worry. We’ll get you down. Right into that vat.”

“Oh no, wait!” the dinosaur said.

Vinny stuck his hands up the dino’s shirt and start groping at his bare tummy, while Sal poked his fingers into the sleeves of his arms and tickled his armpits. A wide, shaky smile spread across the dino’s face. He held his breath and desperately fought the urge to laugh as the tickling weakened him.

“H-heheh-hey, cut it out!”

His smooth, green stomach was soft under their hands. The slight firmness of his abs underneath provided an excellent surface for Vinny to prod his fingers into. And the tender skin of his underarms trembled from the scratching of Sal’s sharp claw tips. Having filed them to fine points, the possum eagerly flicked them against the curves of flesh.

Marcello climbed down the ladder in the meantime. He strutted over to Roger and Gin. Turning his head over his shoulder, he held up a hand.

“Wait a minute, fellas. Let’s make a fun little game out of this, eh?”

Vinny and Sal both withdrew their hands. They knowingly grinned at each other, fully understanding what their companion had in mind. It provided a short reprieve for the dino; he was sure it wouldn’t last.

“I’ll make you a deal, rabbit boy,” Marcello said, snapping his fingers at Roger. “I’m going tickle those long feet of yours. As long as you hold it in, the dino won’t get it. But if you start giggling, then he gets the tickles!”

Roger gasped and his lip quivered. “Oh no, please! Not my feet!”

Pushing his hand into his jacket pocket, Marcello pulled out a fluffy, white feather. The rope tied around Roger’s ankles kept his feet helpless as the possum approached. He dropped to his knees, stuck out his hands, and attacked the rabbit’s bare feet.

The feather licked up and down the pink expanse of skin in long licks. On the other foot, he used his nails to scratch. Starting under his toes, he dimpled them into the ball of his foot, dragged them all the way down his arch, and stopped to scribble them around on his heel. He then turned his hand around and dragged them back up. Roger shrieked with laughter every time he repeated the process.

His toes bore the brunt of the feather’s tickling. Marcello shoved it between them, sawing it back and forth to caress the supple skin in those spots. It drove Roger bonkers. He fell back against the floor, melting into hysterics, bucking around in his bondage.

“GEE HEE HAHAHA HAH HEE HA HA HAAAAA!”

“Hah! He didn’t even last a second!” Vinny taunted. “You know what that means, dino breath. Coochie coo!”

Along with Sal, he started tickling the hapless dinosaur once more. It took only a few scratches to his stomach and underarms before streams of giggles erupted from him. And to make it extra unbearable, Vinny leaned in and stuffed his muzzle under the bottom of the dinosaur’s shirt. He slipped his lips around the space above his hip and carefully chewed with his teeth.

It proved to be horrendously tickly. The dinosaur squealed as soon as he felt the possum’s hot tongue slithering around his stomach. His arms and legs began to shake, bringing a desperate look to his eyes.

“Eee hee hah ohohohooo no! I cahaha-cahan’t kehehep my grip! Stahap tickling!” the dinosaur pleaded.

But it was too late. His fingers and toes finally slipped, and he tumbled into the empty vat. He hit the bottom with a thud.

“Ouch!” he yelled, rubbing his sore head. “You two just wait until I get out of here! I’ll teach you a lesson!”

Snickering, Sal shook his head. “There won’t be any getting out.”

He and Vinny climbed down the ladder and moved towards the terrified skunk.

“And now it’s your turn,” Vinny said.

They untied him, dragged him up the top of the ladder, and chucked him over the side. He did his best to move out of the way. But it was only enough to catch the edges with his hands and feet, just as the dinosaur had done. He looked up at the possums and winced.

“P-please, don’t tickle me!” the skunk begged.

“Well, that’s up to our rabbit pal over there, isn’t it?” Vinny asked, turning to wink at Marcello.

The green-suited possum dove towards Roger’s feet again. Not wanting to be responsible for their suffering, Roger held his breath in an attempt at staving off his laughter. It was no use; his resistance evaporated as soon as he felt the plume kiss his sole.

“Bwahahah hee HAHAHA OHOHOO N-NOHOHOO FAIR! GAHAHAHAAA!”

“Aww, would you look at that? One little feather, a couple of scratches, and he’s already cackling like a loon,” Marcello teased.

Vinny and Sal laughed, glancing down at the trembling skunk.

“You know what that means, don’t ya?” Sal asked, holding up his hands and threateningly wiggling his fingers in the air.

Reaching down, Vinny poked his hands up under the shirt and stuffed his fingertips into the skunk’s underarms. The skunk gasped. He instantly burst into peals of mewling giggles. But that wasn’t the worst of it; Sal raked his claws down his bare soles. His toes were perched on the rim of the glass, leaving them slightly bent back. That left his soles stretched taught. Completely exposed, they were open targets for the possum’s vicious nails.

“AIIIIIEEE HEE HEE HAHAHAHAAAA HAA HA!” the skunk wailed, his glasses falling off his face as his head flailed.

“Wow, we got a ticklish one here!” Vinny said, circling the tips of his nails in circles over his victim’s armpits.

Sal busied himself at the skunk’s supple soles. Dipping his claws between his toes, he dragged them down his soles. And then he spidered them back up, delivering a flurry of quick taps to the poor paws as his hands made their way across.

“Better not fall, skunk!”

“OHOHOOO HAHA OH PLEASE! I-AAAIIIEEEHEEE-I’M TICKLISH!”

It didn’t take long under such ticklish treatment before his fingers and toes began to lose their hold. As Vinny’s fingernails dance around in his underarms, and Sal’s fingers stroked at the bottoms of his naked feet, he trembled more and more.

“NOHOHOOOO!”

The skunk cried out as he slipped into the glass vat. He landed right next to the dinosaur. Chuckling at his misfortune, the two possums peered at them from over the top.

“Alright, that’s enough playing around,” Gianteli said, motioning with his cigar over at Roger. “Get that clumsy rabbit and his pal into the vat. Then pour the barrels of dip in there, and make it snappy.”

Marcello stopped tickling Roger and grabbed him by the ankles. He started dragging him over to the vat, where Vinny and Sal waited at the base of the ladder. The rabbit started sobbing and thrashing around as he was pulled over to it.

Gin knew he had to act quickly if he was going to save Roger and the other toons. Fortunately, they were all watching Roger. He could use the distraction to make a break for it. Dipping his head down, he chomped the ropes around his chest. A bit of gnawing from his canid teeth made short work of them.

As soon as he snapped them loose, he reached down and tugged his ankles free of their ropes. He stood up, slunk behind a cluster of metal barrels, and glanced around. The sight of an emergency fire hose mounted on the far wall made his face light up.

“That’s it,” he whispered to himself.

Noises of Roger’s goofy laughter hit his ears as he neared the fire hose. They’d already started in on him; he had to act quickly before his friend was swimming in dip. Grabbing the hose, he charged back towards where the possums were.

“HYAAAAA!” Gin shouted as he pulled the switch on the hose.

The stream of water that roared out caught the possums by such surprise that even Gianteli nearly jumped out of his skin. It sprayed with such force that it sent Gin whipping around, desperately clinging to the hose as it broke free of his control.

“Aggh!”

In the confusion, the possums dropped Roger and tried to make a dash for the exit. But the water sent a stack of barrels and crates tumbling towards them. The heavy items crashed on top of the four possums before they could reach the door. Struggling to worm their way out from under the load, the possums found themselves incapable of getting free.

“Gah! What’s the big idea!?” Gianteli yelled.

Another spray from the hose slammed into the vat and pushed it over. The dinosaur and the skunk tumbled out, waving their arms as the torrent of water carried them. Gin finally managed to shut the switch off. By the time he did, the water had drenched the other toons. But they were free.

“Gee, I think the water pressure is a little high here. Don’t ya think?” Roger asked, slipping his gloves off and squeezing out excess water.

“You two saved us!” the skunk said, shaking off his fur.

The dinosaur slicked back his hair, nodding. “We seriously owe you one.”

“Aww, don’t mention it,” Gin said, flashing a smile.

Interrupting them, the possums struggled under the boxes and oil drums. Owing to the fact that they were toons, they weren’t seriously hurt. But the heavy pile on top of them kept them firmly pinned. Roger and his friends could only see their limbs poking out from the clutter.

“Hey, get us out of here!” Vinny shouted, kicking his heels against the floor.

“Leave them to us,” the dinosaur said, as he walked over and started tugging the shoes off from the trapped possums. “We owe them a little payback.”

The skunk joined him, stripping off their socks and winking at Roger. “But if you’d like to join, feel free.”

“It does sound like fun...” Gin mused, tapping his chin.

“No way,” Roger said with a sigh. “This has been enough excitement for one day. Let’s go home.”

Gin snickered and waved his hand, ears perking as the sounds of possum laughter began to fill the air. “I guess you’re right. We’ve had quite enough adventure for one day.”

“I have to say though, I really owe you one. You saved my skin, buddy! How can I ever repay you? I’ll do anything you want,” Roger said.

“Anything, huh?” Gin asked, rubbing his chin.

Back at their catering business, Gin sat in the middle of their large couch. Roger sat to his right. The rabbit was sprawled out, his arms hanging over the edge of the couch, melting in pleasure. He wore a wide grin on his face. With his feet in Gin’s lap, the coyote tenderly rubbed at them with his right hand.

“Ooooh...” Roger moaned.

Gin’s thumb pressed under the ball of Roger’s foot. It pressed firmly, slipping up and down his arch, and stopping at each toe to knead. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his friend turning to jelly.

But the scene wasn’t entirely peaceful. Hysterical cackling filled the room, coming from the left of Gin. The white and green bunny from earlier sat on the couch. His arms were pulled behind it, tightly tied with a length of bed cloth.

The coyote’s fingertips teasingly scribbled at his underarm. Shrieking with laughter, the bunny’s floppy ears wagged to and fro as he shook his head. But no matter how much he begged, Gin continued tickling his exposed armpit. They flicked and danced, only stopping now and then to prod a single nail around the very edge and drag it in a circle.

Surrounded by two bunnies, one groaning in pleasure and the other laughing his head off, Gin chuckled. His run-in with the possums had proved to be quite the ordeal. But it soon fell to the back of his mind as he basked in the fun of the two lapines.

“And this is why I love bunnies,” Gin said with a smirk.