“I can’t believe you’re agreeing to this…” I grumbled as the five of us struggled to carry the wheelchair up the stairs. Greasy and I took the back, Stupid supported it from underneath and Psycho and Wheezy were guiding us up at front.

Each stepped threatened to break under our weight. “This is like that Jewish chair dance,” grumbled Greasy, scowling sourly, “but worse!”

“Leave it to Nega Old Toontown to not have the infrastructure capable enough to have elevators in these buildings!” Gasped Wheezy, as his legs wobbled up the next step.

Stupid, the group’s muscle, wasn’t complaining at all. Psycho, however, whined, “When are we gonna finish, boss?? Can’t we just throw him out the window on the way down and save us the agony?????!’”

While I thought that was a good idea, I didn’t say so. As we inched closer to the final floor, Stupid picked up the chair with ease and carried it to the Deconstructionman’s door like it was nothing.

We all stared, slack jawed, at him. “Do you mean to tell me we coulda saved our asses as disposed to busting em while you could of taken that chair yourself?” I thundered.

“Nope, boss!”, he beamed. “I’m only apposed to do it when it’s funny! You know the Rule of Funny as well as me!”

Before I could say anything, a voice bellowed from behind the door, “That’s it! I’m coming out there!!!”

Crap. This ain’t good. -Smartass

The Repairman found himself dripping ink more than usual as they ascended. He was surprised, but he didn’t mind. It was all part of the look. And it was funny to see his brothers captors struggle to carry him, and get some ink on them to boot.

“I could just wheel down…” he mumbled. He figured that’d be better than cleaning broken glass..

He found himself laughing his non-existent kiester off as Stupid employed the Rule of Funny. Ah, a classic! And seeing the leader get so angry was just the cherry on the cake.

The laughter stopped, however, as the Breaker shouted his annoyance. The Repairman’s head shot to the door, quickly trying to think of a reason they were up there.

He was about to pull out something to use as a weapon, but he realized he didn’t have one…

What are you doing? You’re no weasel! You’re the Repairman! You know the Breaker! Do this like you!

He slapped his forehead in realization before pulling out a cap and empty box.

The door opened to reveal another blob. This one was a deep purple, with two pits for eyes. He seemed to be… blobbier than the Repairman. This was in part due to the fact that the Breaker obviously took less care about keeping a consistent form, but mainly because he appeared to be sculpted out of clay rather than drawn (or spattered) with ink or paint.

“All right, what’s the big idea?” the Breaker demanded. “I was trying to catch a show!”

“Er… Ya got yer delivery!” the Repairman replied, offering the box. “Jes’ check ta make sure it’s yo’s.”