Paint the Toon Red

by A. J. Mayall

  Then I met Barry and he got me an in for my current place. Heck, he’s probably one of the nicest neighbors I’ve ever had, and I try my best to look out for him.

  I didn’t know when Kyle was coming over, so I spent a little extra time getting nice and clean. About 10 minutes in, I heard the door rattle and he called out, “Hey, Tyler, where are you?”

  I told him I was in the shower, and pretty soon I heard a knock at the door, wondering if he could come in. I reached out and swung the door open.

  He chuckled, “It’s always funny seeing you in that thing.”

  The pink animated curtain pulled around me to protect my modesty. “What do you mean?”

  “Just you living with all this toon stuff.”

  “Well, yeah, of course I live with all this toon stuff. I live in a toon building in the toon part of town. Sure, they have annoying habits here and there, but…toons are good, honest people.”

  “If, by ‘annoying habits’, you mean dropping pianos out of seventh-floor windows…”

  “You and I both know that that wouldn’t have done a darn thing to you.”

  “It’s still the principle of the matter.”

  With a grin, I asked, “Do you want to join me in here?”

  “No, you scrub up. I’ll start making breakfast. What do you got?”

  “Well, I hit Burger Circus last night and got a couple—”

  “Burger Circus? Dude, that’s not food. That’s a 24-hour cry for help. Seriously, some of the taco places probably have safer food.”

  “Burger Circus has always served me right, not to mention a nice guy gave me a good cup of joe last night.”

  “Oh, really? Should I be nervous about you leaving me?”

  “No, man; he was a squirrel named Lou. I don’t think I’m ready to jump ship to ink and paint just yet.”

  Kyle laughed. It was nice how it made his face just brighten up. Kyle had dark hair that was almost black, but streaks of brown could be seen in it in the right light. He was about my height, slender, and he hit the gym more often than I did, which was odd because normally those guys aren’t my type. I’m more into a large-and-in-charge teddy bear, but every now and then, a skinny guy catches my attention and I loved this one to pieces. I could lose myself in his hazel eyes.

  He’d been there for me, having met him just a few months after Barry helped me get this place. He was perpetually perplexed over my lack of steady employment, which is probably why I hadn’t yet met his mother. But I digress.

  Kyle soon called out from the kitchen, “Jesus, you’re not joking! Is this really all you have?”

  “Well, that and running water,” I called out.

  “Okay, hon, I’m gonna leave you some money, and you can just go hit a food bank or something. I mean, I don’t mind helping you out.” Kyle was a programmer for one of the local tech start-ups. He made good money and generally knew when to jump ship before pinning his hopes to a place. He’d been with three high paying start-ups since we met, each one offering him more than the last. But I wasn’t looking for a sugar daddy. After a few months of going out, he had tried to get me to move in. I liked having my own space and I didn’t like depending on someone else.

  Sure, my life was a perpetual cacophony of odd jobs and barely making rent, but I also had a nice community here. I was the token human. When any of the toons wanted to sort of unplug and make sure that they weren’t being put on camera, I’d get a knock on the door and we’d sit and have a cup of soda or I’d make mini-sandwiches…well, when I could afford bread and meat.

  Toons could eat human food, but it’s the same thing as when a human tries to eat toon food; it didn’t do anything for them. It’s one of the reasons why labor laws got so weird. A toon can only properly work if someone has their copyright, like I said before; the problem is, that person effectively owns them. You know, you hold a toon’s copyright in your hand, and you tell them to do something, if it’s within the boundaries of what they are, they will be compelled to do it.

  Some people wondered if that was akin to slavery. So, things were put in place so the toon, for the most part, could pull said contract, if things got too sketchy. It didn’t mean that that was the law of the land in every country, though. There were some countries where, if a toon popped into existence and got registered, they could be put to work doing God knows what for little to no pay, indefinitely.

  The rights of toons were generally a very difficult thing to work around. It was sort of universally decided that we would attempt to utilize toons to the same level and degree that their human counterparts would be used. You know, shift breaks, equal pay, and like with Lou, you know, restaurant staff get in-house meals, even if they never actually need them.

  In return, toons are some of the hardest workers in the world. They didn’t get tired unless it was thematically appropriate. So long as a camera was on them, and that could be security or just someone’s cell phone, they instinctively perform to the top of their abilities, a smile in their voice and on their face. For the really lucky ones who actually broke into film, they live lavish lives. I mean, when you don’t need to actually worry about spending money on food or health insurance and can bounce back from any injury and can perform any stunt required that would kill a human…well, you’d be shocked at some toons’ worth.

  It’s also one of the reasons why toon housing was so cheap. Toon landlords didn’t need the money; that was just put up so everything looked good on the books with the city and the state.

  When I finished my shower and headed back out to the living room wrapped in a towel, Kyle was glaring at me, holding out a glass of water which would probably be my breakfast.

  “Seriously, Tyler, you can’t keep going on like this. Eventually, these little odd jobs are going to just run out on you. This is unsustainable with everything’s so pricey in California.”

  “I know, but what’s my option? Move out of state, away from you? Away from all my friends and this wonderful little mansion of mine?”

  Kyle sat back on my sofa and shot me a glare. “I’m serious. You can still move in with me, you won’t have to worry about the rent here and I can help you find something stable. I mean, even if it’s just scrubbing floors. I’m sure that my job has an opening for groundskeeper, janitor, or something entry-level.

  “Listen, I’ll go to the next job fair that you tell me about, but, I mean, I like helping out people where I can, you know? A lot of times, the pay is good, but—”

  “Yeah, sometimes the pay is really good, and you take me out to nice meals, and things are great for a few weeks. Then, you forget to check your classifieds until stuff runs out, and then you’re in a position like you are now. Or you have a situation like yesterday where you worked your ass off for 12 hours and then you got stiffed.”

  “Hey, I’m going down to the college today and to demand my money.”

  “I’m not sitting around here and watching you starve to death by portioning out three sandwiches to eat over almost a week.”

  “Don’t worry, Kyle. I’ve got this handled. I’m sure everything will be fine. Anyway, I need to make sure I get that money; I owe Lou a tip.”

  “Do you want me to help you look through your classified ads?”

  “Sure thing. Do you have to work today?”

  “No, we’re waiting for a new project to pop up. I could go in and get some side work done, but I’m probably just gonna telecommute that stuff. Heck, do you mind if I just use your computer for it? Your connection’s oddly better than mine.”

  “Well, what do you expect? Toons can pretty much just pop a computer out of existence and connect it to whatever they think is the internet. This entire building’s wired but I think I’m the only person using it.”

  “Maybe I should move in here.”

  I shook my head. “Hey, Barry got me a good deal because I was so down and out. You can actually afford your own place.”

  “But your landlord—”

  “My landlor
d likes me because if something needs fixing, or he needs a human to go in grab something that isn’t necessarily too friendly to Animated-Americans, then I can act as a buffer. I’ve actually offered to be the superintendent of this place, but…”

  “Let me guess. That would involve having to deal with people who have accidentally flooded their entire bathrooms.”

  I nodded. “Pretty much. We’re talking the full shebang, where the door’s bulging outward, and when you open it up, it stays there, perfectly still, just long enough for you to go ‘Oh, crap,’ and then it’s a tidal wave that washes out the entire floor.”

  “Yeah, but like you said, toons can’t hurt someone.”

  “They can’t hurt someone intentionally, but if a human is stupid enough to walk into a tidal wave with the full knowledge of what’s going on, you’ve accepted the risk and the consequences.”

  “Okay, okay. Let me just set up shop here; I’ll let you go down to the university to go get yourself some money.” He pulled out his wallet and pulled out some twenties. “Here’s some cash for groceries.”

  “Kyle, you really don’t have to.”

  “You have three sandwiches and how much money to your name?”

  “Well, I had seventeen cents after that. But then a homeless guy came in—”

  “And you gave that away to a homeless guy? Okay, major karma props, but—”

  “Kyle, what the heck was I going to buy with it? Anyway, a fresh start, right?”

  “Fine, a fresh start.” He slapped the twenties into my hand. “Only the essentials.”

  “Caviar it is, then. I’m assuming sir would also like a lobster?”

  “Tyler, come on, you’ve got to take this seriously.”

  “Have you looked at my neighborhood? Nothing here is really that serious.”

  He grunted and waved me toward the bedroom. “Get dressed and see about getting your payment; I’ll find some gigs for you.”

  “Thanks, hon. I love you bunches.”

  “I love you, too. Thanks for letting me use your superior internet.”

  I headed to the bedroom and smelled the laundry on the floor. “Hey, Kyle?” I called out.

  “What’s up?”

  “You think you could do some laundry for me while you’re here?”

  He groaned and acquiesced. “It’s not gonna, like, bite me or anything, is it?”

  “No, hon, the washing machine downstairs will not bite you. It may make comments about my underwear, but it’s not going to bite you. Just be prepared for a conversation; Wishy-Washy gets a little chatty.”

  Under the bed, I found a pair of jeans and my least dirty shirt. With those on, shoes tied, and phone and wallet in place, I was out the door. Lucky for me, there was a bus stop right outside. Normally, I’d drive, but couldn’t risk using up the gas right now.

  The bus pulled up about 10 minutes later and out poured a stampede of toon citizens. I smiled to the gorilla behind the driver’s seat, flashing my pass and dinging it against the machine which registered the fare. He thumbed behind him and I took a seat near the middle of the bus. There were a few other humans on board, but for the most part, this was a bus that obviously ran through toon neighborhoods.

  Almost every piece of major transit went near the central hub station, which just so happened to be across the street from the university. It was about half an hour before I stepped off and stretched. About five minutes later I was walking up to the fraternity I helped move yesterday. Delta Phi…Pie-in-the-face…I’m not sure, I don’t read Greek. It had squiggly letters, that’s all I knew, but I recognized them.

  I pounded on the door a couple of times and heard rumbling from behind it. I pounded a couple more times before yelling, “Hey, I hear you fuckers in there! Open up!”

  The door opened and there was some poor freshman wearing a bikini and a blonde wig. He looked up at me nervously. I glowered down at him. Great…a pledge.

  “Hey, so I helped all you guys move in yesterday, and I could really use getting paid right now.”

  I could hear snickering in the other room. “Um, no one’s home right now,” the pledge said. He had to be nothing more than 5’4” and weighed maybe 120 pounds soaking wet with wild, frizzy red hair.

  “Listen, if you guys don’t do anything, I’ll just have to get the police involved, and I really don’t want to do that. Now, I’ve got a copy of the ad, and all I’m asking for is the $250 that I’m owed for doing a full day’s worth of work, plus extra for heavy lifting.”

  I heard the snickering in the background once more. The pledge gulped and looked up at me. I must’ve looked intimidating, being almost a head and a half taller than he was, and far broader.

  He leaned in and whispered, “Dude, I-I don’t know what to tell you. Like, if I give you anything, I’m not going to be able to get into the fraternity.”

  I leaned in. “That sounds like a you problem, not a me problem. I’ve done my work, I want to get paid.”

  The door was flung open the rest of the way and some young punk—well, I can’t say “young punk”, as he was only a few years younger than me, but built about the same, probably a football player—looked me up and down. “Hey, haven’t I seen you before?”

  “Yeah, I was here yesterday. I helped move all your stuff. Now, I’d like to be paid for that.”

  “We don’t really have the money right now, and—”

  “I don’t give a shit if you’ve got the money right now. You can either pay me cash or I can come back and start collecting items that I can pawn for that cash; the choice is up to you. Frankly, that television set that I helped move into your room yesterday would probably make us even.”

  The quarterback’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, man, you can’t just come in here and tell us we gotta give you our stuff.”

  “I’m telling you gotta pay me for my work. We had a contract; you posted an ad online, I responded, I’ve done the work, I’ve got evidence that I’ve done the work.”

  “Well, I guess you’re just gonna have to take us to court, then, ain’tcha? And how much would that cost you?” He had a cocky smile on his face. I wanted to punch his fucking teeth, to be fair. “Cuz you see, my dad owns one of the biggest law firms in LA, and I think he’d have no problem ripping apart your little complaint in court, probably have it tossed out, and have you pay our legal fees. He starts at five figures an hour, so I’d just cut your losses if I were you.”

  “Hey, fuck you, buddy.”

  “Fuck me? No, fuck you!” he said, rearing back a fist and swinging it at my face. I gave him a quick jab to the nose after fading to the right. He was big, and, I’ll admit, faster than he looked, but he telegraphed like you wouldn’t believe. I did more than my fair share of fights growing up, being the only queer kid in my town, and this wasn’t my first run-in with a jock bully.

  The pledge screamed once I struck one of the fraternity members, but I’d had enough. If he was going to take me to court, I’d give him a reason to. He reached up and grabbed at his nose, which is when I did a one-two to the breadbox, making him double over, and then I just kicked him across the jaw.

  “Dude, I’ll kick your ass for that,” he said. “I’ll send you to fucking jail!”

  I said, “Go ahead, call the fucking cops! What are you gonna tell them?”

  “Well, I’ll tell them you came here harassing us, and—”

  “And they’ll ask what for, and I’ll tell them I worked for 12 hours for you and you’re refusing to pay me, and when I insisted on it, you threw a punch and I defended myself. Or,” I leaned in and grabbed him by his neck, “you can just eat your loss.”

  I pushed him, making him fall on his back, and slammed the door shut. I knew I shouldn’t have lost my temper, but I didn’t know what else to do. All I had on me was the $60 that Kyle had given me, and it was time to head back to the bus.

  I hadn’t even gotten to the exit before I was stopped by campus security. It seems Sporty McCan’t-Punch-Right had called the
campus cops and reported an assault. I told them what had gone on, that I had been defending myself and that they owed me cash. The campus cops didn’t want to hear much about it and had decided that the best thing to do was to just evict me from the campus with the foreknowledge that I would not be allowed back on if they saw me anywhere near that fraternity house. If I wasn’t a student, I was no longer welcome on campus grounds.

  Well, shit.

  I was escorted to the edge of the campus where I thanked the officers and apologized for wasting their time, and then flipped the bird toward the frat houses. I hopped the next bus to a nice little shopping center that had one of the slightly more upscale, but still on the cheap end of grocery stores.

  It’s really weird being back around the majority of humanity when you live in the toon part of town. I don’t even think a single toon was in the store as I walked the aisles. I felt like an outsider. I mean, I was human and I should fit right in. But I just felt, well, I felt more at home back at home.

  Kyle had said to get the essentials: a few loaves of bread, two gallons of milk, eggs, some lunchmeat, some peanut butter, definitely one or two packs of cheap hot dogs, and some assorted veggies because Kyle would get mad if I didn’t eat healthy. I threw in butter just to be on the safe side; stuff needs flavor.

  I took my basket up to the cashier and they rang it up. Wouldn’t you know it…

  “That’ll be $60.17.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” I muttered under my breath. “Give me a break…okay, one second.” I handed over the $60 and looked around. “Take one of the packets of hot dogs out, I guess.”

  “Okay, that’ll be $56.72.”

  “Thanks.”

  I handed over the money and pocketed the change, picked up my bags and hefted them back toward the bus stop. While I was walking there, I did see something kind of odd: out of the corner of my eye, there was actually a toon in this part of town, which, while not uncommon, wasn’t expected. He was an old toon, still in his black-and-white monochrome phase.