Well this was new information. This idiot framed his counterpart just for the hell of it? What a lame villain! Doing evil deeds with nothing to really gain?

“Your plan totally backfired on you, chump!”, sneered Wheezy. “you thought he’d lose his job? Thought that’d get the law on his tail? No…we actually need his help. I think Toontown would have imploded long ago if it wasn’t for him!”

I had to agree that we needed him, but the fact that he was stammering obviously indicated that he was hiding something.

My eyes narrowed, and I asked “What are you not telling us, you palooka?”
-Smartass

The Repairman couldn’t help but be flattered by Wheezy’s insistence at how useful he was. Still, he had to disagree; knowing the Breaker, he would try something like this to make his breaks easier to keep.

Even so, they were the cops, so he didn’t protest any more than an eye roll.

The Breaker made a quick glance at the camera and shrugged. The Repairman winced, but still said nothing.

"Ah, y-y’know,” the Breaker started. “Just wanted to make sure I never had to do my job again. Man, she made it seem like such a good idea at the time…”

I snorted, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms.

“Make it snappy! We don’t got all day for questioning!” I barked, before pulling him beside, and whispering, “You tried. You get a precipitation trophy like them millennials get. You were….” I sighed, not used to complementing nobody, “a good actor. Let’s just not do this again. Ever.”

Roughly shoving the blob towards the Breaker, I stood by the boys. Greasy fidgeted with his tie, Stupid and Psycho were bickering. About what, that’s anybody’s guess and to be honest I didn’t give a damn. Wheezy lit up his….one hundred and third? Yeah…his 103rd cigarette of the day.

I looked on, bemused as the Repairman had to stoop down, as well as someone his shape can stoop, to question the Breaker about who was paying him.
-Smartass

The Repairman listened patiently to the weasel.

"What do you mean, ‘actor…’?” he muttered.

Aloud he said, “Agreed. Let’s not do this again.”

When he finally got to ask, the Breaker stammered and looked from side to side.

“Who paid me? Oh, um…er…”

He sighed.

“Yeah, no one,” he admitted. “I just thought my job’d be easier with you out of the picture.”

The small part of the Repairman that was still weasel wanted to return the compliment, but he thought better of it. He just shook his head and turned to the actual weasels.

“…Can I go now…?”

I quickly whipped my head around and saw the repairman looking like an oily ice cream cone in the summer sun. “What happened??” I hissed. “Why ain’t you getting back into shape? He’s gonna notice any second!”

Wheezy noticed the change, and decided to keep the Breaker preoccupated. “I never heard of you! I don’t think anybody even knows your name.” He snorted.

The Breaker shot back, “Just like nobody knows yours? What is it….Wacky? Walter? ….no seriously. What is it? Pulling a blank here.”

“We don’t need nobody to know our names,” drawled Greasy, “because everybody knows us as a unit. And you? You’re just a gaudy little lump with a hammer. A nobody. Completely useless….unless you count the “for every good, there’s an equal and opposite bad” thing. But TV tropes don’t bring home the bacon. And by the looks of your dump of an apartment, you don’t even got the pan drippings!“

Stupid picked up the mallet, while Greasy was taunting the Breaker, receded to whack him on the noggin, splattering clay everywhere.

Chunks of his nonexistent form spewed everywhere, which began to re-form, motionless until his face was reapplied. The face landed in Wheezy’s hands, and he dropped it when the face shouted, "What’s the big idea? You trying to kill me?”

Psycho cackled and asked, “Can we just put this guy in the kiln already? I wanna see him as a statue!”

“I think we’ll let the Repairman decide.” I said. “Whaddya think, blob?”

-Smartass

"Not happenin’…” he said, beginning to slur as his mouth lost form. “Can’t…keep…it up…”

He began to slip back into his normal shape at a more rapid pace, until finally he was just his old self with a few extra bumps.

“Sorry boss,” he murmered, sheepishly. “Guess I can’t be ya brother foreva, eh?”

He was already finding less joy in seeing the Breaker get squished, though he still snickered a little.

He hesitated as the pink one asked whether the Breaker should be cooked. On the one hand, there was still some weasel left in him that would love this, but on the other hand, the Repairman really didn’t think it necessary.

“C’mon,” the breaker said, “do somethin’. Those shows aren’t gonna watch themselves…”

Finally, the Repairman found an answer that satisfied both minds he was in.

“Hang on,” he said, “I want to ask ‘im a few things first…”

He went over to the recently reformed Breaker casually.

So, eh, who wuz payin’ ya–you?“ he asked. Gosh, that was a horrible accent. Was he really talking like that?