Lilo and Stitch are biking along the leafy outskirts of town-- well, jetting around the solar system in a rocket-powered attempt to outrun a vicious monster of as yet undetermined origins, actually-- when they encounter a tiger.
"A TIGER," Lilo cries, leaping off of the bike, fists at the ready. Stitch bares his teeth, as any good alien ought to when confronted with a stripey jungle beast.
"Oh," the tiger says, looking rather surprised. "Um. Roar?"
"...You're not a very good tiger," Lilo says, perturbed.
"Excuse me, I am an excellent tiger I will have you know," the tiger says, drawing himself up to his full height and putting his paws on his hips. "I am the textbook definition of a tiger: behold my gleaming eyes, my lustrous coat, my sleek and powerful tail-- you should be fainting at my feet."
Stitch makes a derisive noise and wriggles his claws slightly. The tiger answers him with an expression which is somewhere between snarling, nervous, and bemused.
"What are you, anyway?" He inquires, sounding genuinely curious. "Some kind of seriously demented rat terrier?"
"Hey, nobody talks about Stitch like that!" Lilo declares, stomping one foot. There is a pause, and then she adds, "Um. What does 'demented' mean?"
"Crazed," the tiger supplies immediately. "Mad. A few sandwiches short of a picnic."
"Oh," Lilo says. "Then I guess I owe you an apology Mr. Tiger. Everybody talks about Stitch that way."
"Apology accepted," the tiger says cheerfully, and holds out a paw to shake. "My name's Hobbes."
Introductions have just run their course when a plaintive voice intrudes.
"Hobbes? Hobbes!"
"Right here," Hobbes calls. "I was wondering where you were. Look, I made new friends!"
"Ewwwww," says the spiky-haired boy who has just rushed into view trying his hardest not to look in any way concerned. "I can't leave you alone for two seconds without you meeting girls!"
"Just one girl," Hobbes protests. "And her demented, blue rat terrier."
"Ooh," the boy says, his eyes lighting up. Lilo sticks her chin out.
"Stitch is my friend," she says, "and there's nothing wrong with girls, and you have stupid hair."
"Hey!" The boy says, but he seems willing to temporarily drop his gender-related hesitancy in exchange for the chance to meet an alien. "I mean, fine. Whatever. What's the blue thing's name?"
"He is not a thing," Lilo says, "and his name is Stitch."
"He's awesome," the boy breathes, which is as good as redemption in Lilo's eyes.
"My name's Lilo," she says. "You can play with us, if you want."
"Okay," the boy agrees. "My name's Calvin. Have you ever played Calvinball? We're gonna crush you."
"Um, as if," Lilo says. "Stitch and I have alien powers and girl power on our side. You're going down."
"Have you noticed that Hobbes is a tiger?" Calvin asks, and things are pretty much off and running after that.
(When Calvin's family return from their week and a half vacation, Calvinball has acquired a new rule entitled The Pufferfish Clause, which must, of course, be promptly discarded. But every once in a while a postcard arrives, slightly crinkled, from a tropical zip code. Calvin tacks them up on the wall-- Hobbes teases him mercilessly for it, of course-- because hello, awesome. Sometimes-- okay, fine, most of the time-- he even remembers to write back.)
Lilo & Stitch/Calvin & Hobbes - What I Did On My Summer Vacation
"A TIGER," Lilo cries, leaping off of the bike, fists at the ready. Stitch bares his teeth, as any good alien ought to when confronted with a stripey jungle beast.
"Oh," the tiger says, looking rather surprised. "Um. Roar?"
"...You're not a very good tiger," Lilo says, perturbed.
"Excuse me, I am an excellent tiger I will have you know," the tiger says, drawing himself up to his full height and putting his paws on his hips. "I am the textbook definition of a tiger: behold my gleaming eyes, my lustrous coat, my sleek and powerful tail-- you should be fainting at my feet."
Stitch makes a derisive noise and wriggles his claws slightly. The tiger answers him with an expression which is somewhere between snarling, nervous, and bemused.
"What are you, anyway?" He inquires, sounding genuinely curious. "Some kind of seriously demented rat terrier?"
"Hey, nobody talks about Stitch like that!" Lilo declares, stomping one foot. There is a pause, and then she adds, "Um. What does 'demented' mean?"
"Crazed," the tiger supplies immediately. "Mad. A few sandwiches short of a picnic."
"Oh," Lilo says. "Then I guess I owe you an apology Mr. Tiger. Everybody talks about Stitch that way."
"Apology accepted," the tiger says cheerfully, and holds out a paw to shake. "My name's Hobbes."
Introductions have just run their course when a plaintive voice intrudes.
"Hobbes? Hobbes!"
"Right here," Hobbes calls. "I was wondering where you were. Look, I made new friends!"
"Ewwwww," says the spiky-haired boy who has just rushed into view trying his hardest not to look in any way concerned. "I can't leave you alone for two seconds without you meeting girls!"
"Just one girl," Hobbes protests. "And her demented, blue rat terrier."
"Ooh," the boy says, his eyes lighting up. Lilo sticks her chin out.
"Stitch is my friend," she says, "and there's nothing wrong with girls, and you have stupid hair."
"Hey!" The boy says, but he seems willing to temporarily drop his gender-related hesitancy in exchange for the chance to meet an alien. "I mean, fine. Whatever. What's the blue thing's name?"
"He is not a thing," Lilo says, "and his name is Stitch."
"He's awesome," the boy breathes, which is as good as redemption in Lilo's eyes.
"My name's Lilo," she says. "You can play with us, if you want."
"Okay," the boy agrees. "My name's Calvin. Have you ever played Calvinball? We're gonna crush you."
"Um, as if," Lilo says. "Stitch and I have alien powers and girl power on our side. You're going down."
"Have you noticed that Hobbes is a tiger?" Calvin asks, and things are pretty much off and running after that.
(When Calvin's family return from their week and a half vacation, Calvinball has acquired a new rule entitled The Pufferfish Clause, which must, of course, be promptly discarded. But every once in a while a postcard arrives, slightly crinkled, from a tropical zip code. Calvin tacks them up on the wall-- Hobbes teases him mercilessly for it, of course-- because hello, awesome. Sometimes-- okay, fine, most of the time-- he even remembers to write back.)