#to go on the record: i do not condone keeping wild animals as pets

[incorrect-oldstar-quotes]

Another (Furry) Mess

Stars: Stan Laurel, Oliver Hardy

Summary: Stan finds himself in a world of trouble when an unexpected furry friend comes knocking on their door.

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Well, he’s done it now.

Stan scurried into the house, holding the brim of his hat firmly in place. He thought nothing of those times he went behind Oliver’s back and continued to feed the woodland creature that lived behind their house. But coming home earlier today presented him with a strange present from his new furry friend: a tiny, shivering bundle of... *ahem* joy.

A baby raccoon.

He was speechless, reducing himself down to his typical flurried crying. He never imagined that this would be the end result of what seemed like a not bad idea at the time. He rushed into the house, taking off his derby and plucking the tiny creature out of his hair. It was fast asleep, probably not even old enough to open its eyes. He wrapped it in a lace doily on the side table in an attempt to keep it calm.

Oliver was sure to throttle him once he got home.

Stan took a few deep breaths as the raccoon now began to wiggle around. Its tiny beaded eyes stood against the characteristic eye mask on its face, and it stared straight up at the worried man about it.

“... hello, there,” Stan greeted shyly. “I’m... um... a friend of your mum’s.” He picked it up and began to hold it gently as if it was a real baby. It was certainly cute, but not something that needed to be in their house forever. After all, it was sure to grow up and grow into its instincts, which would make it an absolute nightmare to keep around. But what else could he do right now?

As he got distracted by the adorable animal, he heard a cab pull up and out of it came his friend. He panicked again as he searched for a way to hide it and delay the inevitable. “Okay buddy, let’s find you a nice quiet spot,” he said as if the raccoon could even respond. “Now you stay quiet, y’hear?”

He placed the baby in the cabinet under the kitchen sink just as Oliver walked in the house. He thought he was being sly until Oliver came into the kitchen much sooner than he thought.

“What are you doing, Stanley?” he asked suddenly, surprising Stan and causing him to bump his head squarely on the counter above him. Even in his daze, he knew he needed to close the door as soon as he could.

“Oh hey, Oliver,” he stammered, rubbing the now-sore top of his head. “Why’d you come home so early?”

“Oh, the boss let me go sooner today,” he answered, but his curiosity was piqued. “What were you doing down there?”

Stan swallowed the knot in his throat. He stood in front of the door, trying not to make it so obvious. “No good reason. Say, how about we try the new restaurant down the street for dinner tonight, wouldn’t that be a fun idea?” He laughed nervously. His ruse was cracking.

“Why are you stuttering? And you’re sweating like you have a fever of 100.” Oliver rested his hand on the counter, right at the sound of something being knocked over under the counter. He moved forward, and Stan moved away.

“Think about that restaurant idea, I’ll be upstairs.” He hurried away as quickly as he could, but there was no hiding from the sharp yell coming from the kitchen.

“STANLEY!” Oliver shouted from downstairs.

Stan tiptoed his way down. His secret had been uncovered and there was no backing out of this one.

He barely peeked his head around the corner when he responded, “... yes, Ollie?”

Oliver threw his hands up in a fit of frustration. “Don’t ‘yes, Ollie’ me. What’s this?” He held the now wide-awake raccoon in the palm of his hand. 

Stan glanced between the two of them. “It’s a raccoon,” he answered curtly. He took two index fingers and traced the area around his eyes.

Oliver was speechless for a minute, staring off into the proverbial camera. “I know what a raccoon is, blockhead. But where did it come from??” He held the furry creature in his hand, ever so gently despite his frustration directed towards his completely moronic friend.

“Well, you see... okay, let’s start from the beginning. Remember the raccoon you told me to stop feeding?” He could see the anger building in his eyes, so Stan stammered over his words to continue. “Anyways, I came home today and wouldn’t you know, it became a mother! And, I guess, she thought we would be the best ones to take care of it.”

“The best ones to take care of it,” Oliver repeated. “Stanley, this thing needs its real mother! I want you to take it back where it came from right now.”

In his heart, Stan knew that the baby needed its real mother and to be out in its natural home. But he also knew there was a chance she wouldn’t come back for it, and it would be left to fend for itself. His humanitarian side caved in.

“Can I reason with you for a second?”

Oliver huffed. “You can try.”

Stan took the baby from his friend’s hands. “Ollie, look at it. If we put it out now, it won’t have anywhere to go. Who could be so cruel to a creature this small?” He held the baby in both hands, while the baby lifted its head up to see the other man better. Those small, beady eyes were piercing, and they pierced right through Oliver’s previous plans.

He sighed. “Okay. But just until it’s big enough to go back on its own. It’s not a permanent thing!”

He didn’t hear the rest of the argument. All Stan heard was that their little friend was here to stay.

“Do you hear that, little buddy?” he asked with a smile. “We’re going to take good care of you and give you lots of love and food and--” His voice trailed off as he took the baby upstairs, and Oliver shook his head in resigned contentment.

“Here’s another nice mess you got me into,” he whispered under his breath.

(Two months later)

“Laughing Gravy!” Stan shouted from the back porch. “Laughing Gravy, come get your dinner!”

The now much-bigger raccoon came tottering up to the porch. What started out as a temporary arrangement now looked a little bit more permanent. Still, “Laughing Gravy” lived out in his natural habitat.

Oliver told him not to name it, but he just couldn’t help himself.