....Morty, a sensibly short, brown-furred, freshly admitted man-turned-toon-mouse. Morty had turned up at ToonWorld to escape the rigors of the normal world, intending to spend every moment of his few days of relief indulging in the near-nonsensical antics unique to the alternate world. He hadn't, however, expected said antics to start mere minutes after he arrived.
Morty had only just set his now mouse-sized luggage next to his tiny bed when he heard the mail slot in his door flapping open, as well as the soft "plap" of something thin landing on his room's carpeted floor. "Huh?" he murmured to himself, frowning as he strolled closer to the envelope. "A delivery? I haven't ordered anything yet..."
Once he spotted what, or rather, who, was inside the envelope, Morty trailed off, his jaw going slack as he stared at the package's occupant. There, firmly squashed between a sheet of cardboard and the clear plastic of the envelope she'd been shoved into, was the rather comely figure of Carrie the cartoonified mouse, flattened into little more than shapely sticker. The pose the toony mouse had quite literally been pressed into, her legs stuck out in a straight V-shape, her arms bent up towards her shoulder, her palms faced forwards in the classic "WAIT!" position, her eyes wide and her mouth agape in clear shock, hadn't changed a bit since that Dragoness had stomped her flat, and with how much starch the housekeeping staff had ironed into her fur, that wasn't likely to change anytime soon: not without someone else's assistance, at least.
Of course, Morty didn't know Carrie's backstory, how she'd ended up in her flattened state, or even how she'd wound up in his room, but he certainly wasn't complaining about it, to say the least. "Woah..." he whispered, allowing his eyes to roam up and down Carrie's immobile form. Maybe it was the toon in him speaking, but the sticker of a mouse before him was quite the alluring sight, from her shapely legs, to the curve of her wide hips, to the berth of her toony bust, to her adorable pink ears, to her pretty, if blatantly surprised, face. That same toon also had hearts in his eyes and a powerful urge to start howling like a lonely wolf
After the moment had passed, Morty gingerly opened the package, peeling Carrie's flattened figure off of her backing and holding her up into the air. With all the starch in her fur, Carrie was just about as rigid as a cardboard cutout, just stiff enough for Morty to lean her against a nearby wall and ponder the situation.
Unlike the bellboy who'd delivered Carrie into his hands, Morty the mouse wasn't blind: as soon as he'd opened the package, he'd realized that the postered mouse was meant to go to room 868, a couple floors up from his room. The right thing for him to do was to waddle his mousy behind to his room's phone, call up room service, and tell them that they'd made a mistake with one of their deliveries. With a disappointed sigh, Morty turned away from Carrie's flattened figure and towards the phone, taking a few mopey steps, then pausing.
Wait a moment.
Calling Room Service might've been the right thing to do back on Earth, but this wasn't Earth: this was ToonWorld! The things that made sense on Earth held no power here, and the things that made sense here came straight out of a cartoon! By that logic, wouldn't it be wrong for him to do the responsible thing? Shouldn't he have fun? Didn't he have a right, no, a duty to enjoy himself as a toon would as long as he stayed in this world? A naughty grin slowly rose onto Morty's mousey face as he turned away from the phone, rubbing his hands together as he stalked back towards Carrie's squashed shape.
Poor Carrie, starched, steamed, and squashed so tightly that she couldn't do much more than stare straight ahead, gulped internally. She did not like where this was going.
The ideas zinging through Morty's mind were mischievous enough to put Wil E. Coyote to shame, strong enough to make Bugs look like a dunce, and raunchy enough to make Pepé Le Pew blush. "This is gonna be fun," Morty purred, his eyes twinkling as he stroked a single finger down Carrie's stiff, flattened form. "But what to do, what to do..."