The Animated Pinup

by Lewis Parker

that aren't quite what they seem. Now, uh--go over it again indetail and I'll apply myself to it completely from your angle this time.Tell me _exactly_ where Red fits in, and where the--uh--troublestarted."

  Willy slapped his knees and looked even more forlorn, reaching for asmoke while he still had one in his mouth. "Sorry I doubted you, Jim,but you can understand how I feel about it. Look--"

  He stood up, butted the fresh fag, and walked across the room to thedrawing desk where he did his layouts.

  "The best thing to do is simply show you," he said. I sighed and draggedmy chair over and sat to one side of him. He pulled out a layout pad,opened his pastels and arranged them deliberately beside it. I wonderedhow he could show me his love-troubles this way, unless it was bydiagrams.

  "Nothing happens," he said, waving a pastel stick under my nose, "untilI've used the three basic colors and signed the illo. If there isn't abalance of the three basics it's no good. That's why I arranged thepastels that way."

  He naturally assumed I knew what he was talking about. It meant nothingmore to me than a freak technique he'd developed. That signaturebusiness sounded--neurotic.

  * * * * *

  Now this part of my story is important. Until he finished that sketch Iwas the normal, practical guy I was telling you about. Nothing fizzed onme unless it added up to four and I could feel the two and two of it. Abuck was a buck, a girl was a girl--

  His grey pastel flew over the paper and as usual I marvelled at howthese guys could do it. Like the saying goes, all I can draw is fliesand rubber checks, and frequently a blank. I've seen a lot of artists dotheir stuff, but none of them come up to Willy. You've seen his illos inmost of the big slicks--you know, the guy and gal in all angles on theyellow beach under a pink sky, and the story title reads "When Will YouCome Back, Dearest?", or the cola series on the back cover where thegirl swigs and the guy gawks at her bathing suit, that sort of stuff.The fat accounts, they all came running for Willy. With him on thepayroll the agency could have made a fortune.

  I was considering ways to broach this subject so it would tie in withthe poor guy's dilemma when he started working the third color into thesketch. Naturally it was a dame; he could draw them with his eyes shut.The third color went into the bathing suit. He smudged chalk on hisfinger and touched the sketch with quick strokes, moulding the form, andwhat a form. I leaned forward, and half stood over his chair, marvellingat the way he did it. Then, applying a dough rubber to pick outhighlights and stray smudges, he leaned back and reached for a pencil.Noticing how tensed he was, I sank back into my chair and lit acigarette.

  "There," he whispered, his hand poised with the pencil at the bottomleft-hand corner.

  "So now what gives?" I asked. "Is she the--"

  "So now I sign it." He looked around at me, spaniel-eyed. I gatheredthat he was reluctant to sign it. I wanted him to get on with it andexplain how it tied in. I must have looked impatient.

  "So go ahead," I said. "Sign it."

  He signed it.

  The girl got up off the paper and brushed herself off.

  * * * * *

  I felt the cigarette smoke burning my eyes, but was too frozen to closethem. I must have gone as white as the paper the girl got up off of.Willy touched my shoulder. I looked blearily at his spaniel eyes, whichwere puzzled.

  "Didn't you believe me?" he asked.

  I made a noise in my throat, and suddenly wanted desperately to be backin my apartment. Anywhere. But I knew that if I stood up my legs wouldfold. So I just stared at the girl while my heart flopped like a beachedfish.

  She smiled at me, then turned to Willy.

  "Who's your friend?" she asked in a voice proportionate to her size,which was about a foot.

  Willy looked at his hands. "Just a friend." Turning to me he saidimploringly, "You _did_ believe me, didn't you, Jim?"

  I felt like asking him what the hell difference it made whether or notI'd believed him, but I merely swallowed and cleared my throat. I workedmy jaws. I took the cigarette from my mouth and looking at it, then atmy hand, moving it back and forth to adjust the focus. I didn't want todo any thinking about it because I knew I'd be scared senseless by theconclusions. So I made my mind a throbbing blank and to the cigarettesaid the first thing that popped into my head.

  "She's pretty."

  The girl smiled coyly and seated herself on the blank layout pad.

  "Of course I'm pretty," she said. "I'm Willy's ideal. He wouldn't havedrawn me if I weren't." She blinked her eyes demurely.

  Willy just sat there looking woebegone, so I went along with it.

  "What's your name?"

  "Red."

  It fitted. The first basic had gone into her hair. I felt myselfbeginning to twitch. The reaction was setting in again. I found myselfwishing that Willy would do something, and not just sit there with hisjaw drooping to the floor. I wondered if he could erase her with hisdough rubber. I clung to that thought because it seemed funny. I startedto laugh. The girl pouted. Willy looked up at me and frowned.

  "What's so funny," Red asked.

  I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth, but the shakes were comingand this time they wouldn't be deferred. I wheeled from the chair andcharged for the door. Willy was up and grabbing at my arm.

  "Don't go, Jim! Please! I've only started to--"

  I swung around at him and threw his hand off, panic making my actionsloose. Then I saw his spaniel eyes, sad, pleading. I glowered at him andran my hand through my hair. Looking back at the pint-sized beauty Isocked my fist into my hand and stalked back to the drawing desk. Ireached out for her. She squeaked and cowered away.

  Willy let out a holler that just about scared the pants off both of us,and was tugging at my arm again.

  "I just want to _touch_ her," I roared. "I won't kill her."

  "You touch her like that and you _will_ kill her," Willy cried. "Sitdown, will you? Listen to me--"

  "If I can feel her with my hands," I said, still whoozy but coolingdown, "I'll believe she's there. Otherwise I go home and sleep it off."I rubbed my forehead. "This kind of stuff isn't for me, kid. You keepyour bloody mirages--"

  "Please, Jim."

  * * * * *

  I scowled and dropped into the chair. Willy fumbled for his cigarettesand offered one to me and then in his nervousness proffered one to theredhead, who had held her palms pressed to her ears while we shouted ateach other. Red shook her head, smiling. Willy chuckled hisembarrassment and sat down in the other chair. We were both facing thedesk but I couldn't bring myself to look at the girl.

  Suddenly she leapt from the desk and was standing in my lap. While Igroaned and held my breath she stretched her arm out.

  "You may touch me, if it will make you feel better."

  I glanced at Willy, who nodded, and touched the point of my finger toher palm. She was there all right. I drew my hand away quickly, and shelaughed. It sounded precisely like the voice of a full-length girlcoming from another room. I studied her with my chin resting on my fist,and saw that she was indeed a beautiful creature. Full-size, she'd be aknockout; I'd be falling, as the saying goes, all over her. But a foothigh!

  Then I remembered that Willy had sketched her. She was a drawing.Tri-dimensional, but nonetheless a figment of Willy's imagination. Yetshe was solid. I was getting confused again, trying to tie it, so tofend off a return of the shakes I forced another blank into my mind. Itwas easier, this time. The whole thing was so ridiculous it wasintriguing.

  "Who is she, Willy?" I asked. It was easier to talk to him.

  "Like I told you. Red. My dream girl."

  I looked at him. "Yeah. M-hmm." I looked down at Red. She was sitting onmy kneecap, combing her hair. "So just what seems to be the problem?"

  His eyes were pathetic. "Again, like I told you. I'm too big for her."

  "Yeah," I said. "Uh-huh." It had to be as simple as that. Somethingpractical-like; for Willy, like I sa
id, was basically a practical guy.Or practically a basic guy. I frowned at him, for the answer was also asimple one.

  "Then why don't you draw her full size?" I asked.

  Willy looked miserable. "I do."

  I said, "Mmm?"

  "I _do_ draw her full-size. That's Red's full size. Twelve inches."

  I nodded, following his lips.

  "Once," he continued, "I drew her a little larger."

  From her perch on my kneecap Red said, coolly, "Don't you dare try_that_ again."

  "No, dear," Willy said, sadly.

  I rubbed my head. To Willy I