EXT. LOS ANGELES — WARNER BROS. BACKLOT — "FOREST" SET — DAY
A bright, aggressively perfect LA sky.
Below it: a forest that is clearly not a forest.
Cardboard trees. Painted shadows. A fake boulder with "ROCK A" stenciled on the side. A little sign that reads: NO RUNNING / NO FIRE / NO TOON PHYSICS (the last rule is crossed out twenty times).
A studio crew is mid-reset. A bored PRODUCTION ASSISTANT holds a clipboard and the dead-eyed expression of someone who has seen an anvil fall from orbit.
In the center of the set—
DAFFY DUCK has Bugs by the collar like this is a courtroom drama.
DAFFY
(pointing offscreen)
It's duck season! Say it! Say it like you mean it!
BUGS BUNNY
(relaxed, chewing something that might be a carrot or might be a prop)
It's wabbit season.
DAFFY
NO! Duck season!
BUGS
Wabbit.
DAFFY
Duck!
BUGS
Wabbit.
They whirl in a perfect, practiced rhythm — like a routine they've done a thousand times, because they have.
Daffy pulls out a big, bright sign from nowhere:
SIGN:DUCK SEASON
Bugs immediately produces an identical sign:
SIGN:RABBIT SEASON
Daffy flips his sign over.
SIGN:RABBIT SEASON
Bugs flips his over.
SIGN:DUCK SEASON
They stare at the signs. Then at each other.
A beat.
DAFFY
(suddenly, suspicious)
…Hang on.
BUGS
(mouth full, casual)
Mm?
DAFFY
Where's Fudd?
That lands like a strange, unpleasant truth.
Both of them freeze in the middle of their argument, blinking like actors who just realized the lead didn't show up.
BUGS
(glancing around)
Good question.
They both look off toward the edge of the set, where the "forest" ends and the studio reality begins: soundstages, golf carts, a giant water tower, and a distant pirate-ship set being pressure-washed by a guy in sunglasses.
Daffy cups his beak like he's calling for a lost dog.
DAFFY
ELL—MERRRR! Where ya at?! We got a whole bit goin' here!
A STAGEHAND walks past carrying an anvil like it's nothing. Daffy points at him.
DAFFY
You! Have you seen a bald guy with a hunting hat and unresolved anger?
STAGEHAND
(flat)
That's… most of Burbank.
Daffy vibrates with indignation.
DAFFY
This is sabotage! This is—
Bugs puts a hand on Daffy's shoulder with the patient calm of a man managing a hurricane.
BUGS
He's probably stuck in traffic, doc. Takes three hours to get to your own gag on the 405.
DAFFY
We are ON THE LOT!
BUGS
Traffic don't care. Traffic is the true villain of this town.
As if summoned by the mention of traffic, a distant HONK echoes through the backlot like a haunted foghorn.
Then—
A faint electronic voice drifts in, warped, exhausted, eternal:
GPS VOICE (O.S.)
Recalculating.
DAFFY
(turning, hopeful)
Fudd?!
A small golf cart rolls into view…
…with a smoking crater where the front should be.
It limps forward on two wheels, missing its windshield, dragging a sign behind it that reads: SAFETY FIRST :)
On the driver's seat sits ELMER FUDD, completely charred like a soot silhouette. Only his eyes are visible, blinking in disbelief.
He holds a melted GPS unit in one hand.
GPS UNIT
Recalculating…
Recalculating…
Recalculating…
A tiny puff of smoke escapes Elmer's mouth.
ELMER FUDD
(hoarse, furious)
I… hate… Los Angeles.
Daffy throws his arms up like the victim in a tragedy.
DAFFY
FINALLY! Do you have ANY idea how long we've been doing dialogue without you?!
Bugs leans in, inspecting Elmer's condition like a mechanic.
BUGS
Tough commute?
Elmer points one trembling finger toward the sky, as if he wants to file a complaint with God's manager.
ELMER
Something… fell… on the fweeway.
DAFFY
Something fell on the—
Elmer slams the GPS unit against his palm like he wants it to feel fear.
GPS UNIT
Recalculating…
ELMER
Then something… else fell on the fiwst thing.
GPS UNIT
Recalculating…
ELMER
Then a billboawd… became a piano.
GPS UNIT
Recalculating…
ELMER
Then the piano… laughed.
Daffy goes still.
Bugs' ears tilt subtly.
That last detail doesn't fit the usual script.
BUGS
(very calm)
…The piano laughed.
ELMER
(nodding, dead serious)
Like it was happy about it.
DAFFY
(laughing nervously)
Okay! Great! Love that! We're not unpacking that! We're professionals!
Daffy yanks a shotgun out of nowhere and shoves it into Elmer's hands like he's handing a coworker their missing prop.
DAFFY
Places, everybody! We got season-related business to attend to!
Elmer stares at the gun. Then at the fake forest. Then at Bugs and Daffy.
Then, like a man returning to an old job he hates but understands, he slowly raises the shotgun.
ELMER
(resigned)
Wabbit…
Bugs smiles with perfect showman timing and snaps into character as if the universe itself just shouted "ACTION!"
BUGS
Eh… what's up, doc?
Daffy lunges in front of Bugs so hard he practically becomes a shield.
DAFFY
NO NO NO—DUCK FIRST! DUCK FIRST! DU—
KABOOM!
Elmer fires.
The blast does not hit Daffy.
Because Daffy is already flattened into a perfect duck-shaped silhouette on the fake boulder behind him, smoking gently.
A little "DAFFY-SHAPED" cutout peels off the rock and drifts to the ground like a sticker.
Bugs looks at it, unimpressed.
BUGS
Same as always.
Daffy inflates back to normal with a wheeze, enraged beyond words.
DAFFY
YOU SHOT ME ON REFLEX!
ELMER
(shrugging, still charred)
Muscle memowy.
Bugs turns toward camera for half a second with a look that says: this is union work.
A beat.
Then the air above the set does something wrong.
A subtle shimmer. Like heat haze, except it's shaped like a circle. Like a lens. Like a channel being tuned.
Bugs' ears lift.
Daffy doesn't notice — he's too busy grabbing Elmer by the collar and vibrating with rage.
DAFFY
Listen here, you bald little menace! You are LATE! We have—
The shimmer intensifies. Clouds far overhead begin to swirl in an impossible, neat spiral.
Elmer squints up at it.
ELMER
(quiet)
…That's not twaffic.
Bugs slowly looks up.
His chewing stops.
For the first time this whole scene, Bugs Bunny looks genuinely curious.
BUGS
Well now.
The sky makes a sound like a TV dial clicking between channels.
SFX:KCHK… KCHK… KCHK…
Daffy finally follows their gaze.
DAFFY
What is that? Is that… a new special effect? Did they upgrade the—
A distant, joyous LAUGH ripples down from the clouds.
Not their laugh.
Not anyone's laugh.
A laugh with gravity.
Bugs' eyes narrow, calculating.
Daffy's eyes widen, panicking.
Elmer quietly starts backing away.
GPS UNIT
Recalculating…
CUT TO: the swirling sky above eastern California.