Berryfunny AU Idea Fic #5
The hallway of the small house echoed with the sharp, rhythmic clack-clack-clack of six-inch stilettos. Looey the Balloon waddled-glided with a newfound, exaggerated sway, his silhouette utterly transformed by a stuffed satin dress and a wig that defied the laws of physics. He still had the heavy blue eyeshadow and the overdrawn, glittering red lips from his "Slapstick Starlet" routine.
Yatta had promised this would be a riot—a classic gag to leave Sprout speechless. But as Looey reached for the doorknob, the laughter died in his throat. Through the wood he could hear the jagged tones of a heated argument.
Inside, the air was thick with tension. Cosmo was front and center, hands waving wildly as he threw accusations at a visibly frazzled Sprout Seedly. A handful of other Toons from the studio stood in the background, playing the role of a judgmental Greek chorus.
"You can't just keep these resources to yourself, Sprout!" Cosmo yelled, his face turning a shade of frustrated purple. "It’s about the collective, and you’re being—"
"HE’S BEING THE BEST MAN IN THIS STUDIO, THAT’S WHAT HE’S BEING!"
The front door didn't just open; it slammed against the wall with theatrical violence. Every head in the room whipped around.
There stood Looey. Or rather, there stood a towering, curvaceous vision of sequins, feathers, and aggressive femininity. He leaned against the doorframe, one hand on a padded hip, the other fluttering a lace fan with terrifying speed.
"I heard shouting," Looey drawled in a high-pitched, Southern-belle-gone-wrong falsetto. "Who is making all this racket in my man's house? Don't you know he has a delicate constitution? My Sprout-y-poo needs his rest!"
The room went silent. Cosmo’s jaw didn't just drop; it practically hit the floorboards. The Toons in the back recoiled, eyes wide as they took in the heavy lashes, the shimmering dress, and the sheer, chaotic energy radiating from the "woman" before them.
"L-Looey?" Sprout squeaked, his face turning a shade of green-pink that shouldn't be biologically possible.
"Don't you 'Looey' me, sugar-plum!" Looey marched into the center of the room, the heels clicking like a countdown. He loomed over Cosmo, blinking his massive, mascara-clumped lashes. "Are you bothering my husband? Because I have a very short temper and a very long memory, and I haven't had my afternoon tea yet!"
The intimidation worked—mostly because the other Toons were too bewildered to do anything else. Cosmo stumbled back, tripping over his own feet.
"We... we were just leaving," Cosmo stammered, casting one last, terrified glance at the towering drag act.
As the Toons scrambled for the exit, whispers broke out. “I didn't know Sprout had it in him,” one murmured. “Look at those curves... Sprout really bagged a bombshell,” whispered another, nodding solemnly toward the blushing chef.
As the door clicked shut, the silence that followed was heavy. Looey kicked off a high heel with a sigh of relief, his wig sitting slightly askew.
"You okay, Sprout-y?" Looey asked, dropping back into his normal voice but keeping the lipstick on.
Sprout was a statue of pure, unadulterated fluster. He looked at the heels, then up at the shimmering dress, then at Looey’s painted face. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a faint, high-pitched whistle of steam.
"Yatta's idea," Looey chuckled, reaching out to pat Sprout's cheek with a gloved hand. "But honestly? I think I like the heels."
