Paint the Toon Red

by A. J. Mayall

  See, that’s the other thing about toons. Usually, by means of their copyright, they’ll kind of update with the times. Unless they were characters whose fur was black and white, like skunks, dalmatians, or badgers, black-and-white toons were rare, like old money personalities. They wore their monochrome like a badge of honor. They were the first, with the eyes that were basically just pupils that looked like Pac-Man.

  This one was an alligator, wearing a fedora and a nice suit—kind of had a gangster appearance to him—and he appeared to be talking on a modern human cell phone, yelling about paperwork. As he was doing so, he seemed to have lost track of where he was going and started walking into traffic.

  At first, I thought, “Oh, well, he simply has the right of way,” and that’s when I noticed the bus careening toward him. I screamed and dropped my groceries; I heard the eggs break when the milk landed on them.

  “Look out!” I yelled and I bum-rushed him, knocking him out of the bus’ path. I got clipped on the shoulder in the process; I spun and landed on the pavement.

  That was a stupid thing to do. I realized too late that the toon probably wouldn’t have been that badly injured by the bus. He probably would’ve been knocked flat and then accordioned himself back up, as they do, or rolled off with the wind. But when you see an old person trying to cross the street and someone’s about to hit him, instinct takes over.

  However, that wasn’t on my mind at the moment. The left side of my body was in screaming pain, and I saw the gator leaning over me.

  “Oh my gosh, boy! Are you hurt?”

  “I’ll be okay. I just—”

  “You need an ambulance, son.”

  “Probably, I just can’t afford one right now.”

  “No, no, no, none of that. Let’s get you to a doctor.”

  “Oh, it’s-it’s okay, man, I just—”

  “You got hit by a bus, son!”

  “It was only one bus, though.”

  The gator blinked, looked at me, and belted out in raucous laughter. “‘It was only one bus!’ Boy, I wish I had your sense of timing. That’s priceless!”

  I leaned up and massaged my shoulder. “Sorry, it’s just—I didn’t know if you saw the bus coming, and—”

  “Never mind that, son; you tell ol’ Snappy what you need.”

  “I dunno, man. I’m going to have to go and get some more groceries. I think I just ruined the ones I just bought.”

  “I’ll cover it for you. Seriously, anything I can do for you, son?”

  “Not unless you can find me a job…”

  “What kind of work do you do?”

  “Odd jobs.”

  “How odd?” he asked, a toothy grin growing on his long face.

  CHAPTER 3

  Wasn’t but ten minutes later that me and Snappy Gator enjoyed some iced coffee at the café next door to the grocery store. He’d replaced everything and threw in a few extra bags of groceries besides.

  “So, let me get this right,” I inquired, leaning in. “You’re actually one of the first. You’re pre-Code.”

  Snappy quickly nodded in affirmation, his grayscale body showing slight flicker effects, like those of an old-school movie projector.

  When toons first arrived just a hair over a hundred years ago, it was shortly after their advent on the big screen, back when an animated person was literally just a pile of papers flashed through quickly and put up for entertainment. No one knows the full details of what happened; all we know is some obscure, failed assistant of George Eastman, with a little tech copying from Nikola Tesla, somehow breached reality using technology that couldn’t even start up a modern-day watch.

  The first toons came, and with them, small rifts appeared around the planet. Generally, when a toon pops into existence nowadays, it’s more of a rarity than anything, but the first toons like Snappy…well, the rules were different for them. Original toons, the truly old-school, did horrifying things on the screen. They weren’t candy-coated and wrapped in sugary sweetness; no, they could be downright brutal. Scary, even.

  That’s when humanity actually started pushing back a bit. Problem was, the toons didn’t realize what they were doing was considered dangerous. They were just living up to their nature. They saw no difference between dropping a bed of nails on someone and offering him a ride to the supermarket. That’s when the old-school toons like Snappy built The Code.

  Humanity went along with it, as animation was still in its infancy, and goodness knows enough people had their underwear in a bunch over what was on screens anyway.

  As humanity put limitations on what they made, so did the toons who came afterward. Well, they were held to the same accountability standards; it was inherent in their nature. One reason people get nervous about cartoons that push boundaries nowadays is: if the toon can do that on TV, who’s to say they won’t be able to do it while walking around in public?

  Snappy had been around a long time. He probably could have crossed paths with my great-grandparents and here he was, happily sipping some iced coffee with me, a poor schmuck who didn’t realize a toon could shrug off getting hit by a bus.

  The gator took a good long gulp of his coffee, actual human fare instead of just something summoned from his hammerspace, as they like to call it. “Yeah, I’m pre-Code and I wear it like a badge of honor,” he said, dusting off his monochromatic lapels. “You won’t see me walking around all green and shiny. Naw, son, I’m an old-school fella. I like the classics, not to mention it’s been my brand for the better part of a century. So, we were talking about employment.”

  I perked up again.

  “Yeah, I guess. I just do odd jobs for people, you know? General maintenance, for example; I’m pretty handy with repairing stuff. I will admit I don’t have necessarily the cleanest apartment, but I can maintain a house if need be. Were you looking for just a personal assistant? Someone to mow the lawn, like a landscaper, or—”

  Snappy waved a hand.

  “You said odd jobs, and I need someone to do odd jobs. How about this? Tomorrow, we start you off. I’ve got an estate up near Mountain View. Heck, I built it around the little fissure that I came out of.”

  I leaned in, never having had actually talked to a pre-Code toon in my life. “So, all you guys come from those little rifts?”

  He nodded. “Yup!”

  “But what’s it like on the other side?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, you came here from over there. So, what’s over there?”

  “Oh, there’s nothing over there. Absolutely nothing.”

  “But you came from there! You-you were able to walk and talk; once you came over to—”

  “Yeah! Once we came across the border, we were all as you see us now. A few of us have edited our appearances over the years to keep up a good image or maintain contracts.”

  “But, you can’t just say that—you know, you don’t—there’s nothing on the other side?”

  Snappy shook his head. “Nope, there’s nothing over there. I mean I could just ask you, you know, ‘Hey, you were born. Well, before you were born, where did you come from?’”

  “That’s not the same. I mean, I wasn’t born fully formed and—”

  “But, you know, there comes a moment when you come into this world and before that, you can’t remember. Now, some folks will say ‘Oh, you were waiting to be born in some heavenly range’ or you could just say ‘Hey, there just wasn’t anything before that.’ I’d be doing you a disservice if I treated the question any differently.”

  I nodded and had to give it to Snappy; he was one of the most down-to-earth toons I’d ever met. He still had that wacky, mad glee in his pie-with-a-piece-missing-looking eyes, but he could hold a conversation. He was probably well-practiced, having had to learn how to adapt to humanity when he was thrust into it.

  “Okay, is there anything I need to know? Like what sort of clothes should I wear?”

  “Oh,” he said, “just wear whatever is most comfortable
for you. I’ll probably have you work outdoors, but there will be some aspects of a uniform. I do like to keep a tidy estate.”

  I nodded, expecting something like a pin, a button, perhaps a lanyard with an ID on it

  “And, not to be rude, but since we are talking jobs, how much are you offering to pay?”

  “Depends on how much work you put in and all, but you can pretty much name your price. I mean, I’m not really too keen on…how do I put this? The idea of a 9-to-5 for the same paycheck over and over seems a little,” he shuddered, “static. I mean, if you need something, all you have to do is ask. Pretty much anything around my house that I need, I can craft myself. It’s not like I’ve ever needed to buy a meal. Although I do like the coffee here,” he said, taking another glug. The caffeine hit him shortly afterward, and his fedora did a couple of spins. “So, tell me about yourself.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t know what there was to say. “My name’s Tyler Fairfax. I have a boyfriend named Kyle.” I paused. He was born of a different time, and I had to see exactly how he would react to something that had not been generally accepted until relatively recently.

  Snappy just smiled and leaned in, curious. “Oh? And how’d you two meet?”

  I chuckled. “That’s a bit of an odd story. See, I was kinda living on the street and I’ve got a neighbor, Barry Badger, who got me an apartment in the toon district of town. Shortly after that, I met Kyle while I was doing some work around town. We hit it off and we’ve been together ever since.”

  Snappy nodded. “And your family?”

  I winced. “I really haven’t spoken to them since I left home years ago. They weren’t very accepting of me.”

  He frowned at that. “Parents should never throw a child away. They’re one of the most valuable treasures you could possibly imagine. So many toon families owe their lives and livelihoods to you boys and girls for all the shows you would consume.”

  I had to laugh at that. Saturday morning to toons was an almost holy affair. And nowadays, with cartoons running 24/7 on several channels…well, the nearly on-demand availability of what had been a special time made it kind of lose its splendor.

  Snappy patted me on the shoulder. “Why don’t I give you a bit of a signing bonus?” He reached into his hat and produced an actual human wallet. “I keep this on me for special occasions,” he said, fishing around and pulling out a rather substantial stack of $20 bills. Actual bills.

  He handed it to me to count, and when I did, I was in shock. “Snappy, there’s like $500 here. Are you sure?”

  He shrugged and waved me off again. “The only things I need to worry about moneywise are making sure my estate still has power and water and just enough food to feed any human guests or employee that I may have. I’m pretty much living on the interest in my bank accounts from when I was in shows back in the early days. I’m no Rockefeller, for certain, but I do know a thing or two about wealth. The fact of the matter is I don’t really need this much money, so I don’t mind giving it out to people.”

  I blinked and pocketed it without question. “Thanks! I—wow, this is definitely making today turn up for the better.”

  Snappy smiled and finished his coffee. “Well, I need to be going. Would you like me to give you a ride home or anywhere else you need to go?”

  I stopped for a moment, looked at the bags of groceries, and gave a quick thought to the other day. “Yeah, actually. Can we stop off at Burger Circus? I’ve got a pay a man a tip.”

  “Really? What’s going on over at Burger Circus?”

  I regaled him of the story of having met Screwloose Squirrel and his kindness and giving me his meal for the day.

  Snappy grinned ear to eat. “I remember Screwloose! Believe he came through one of the fissures, 7 to 10 years ago. The one on my estate, if I remember it. Actually, I’m the one who helped him set up his copyright page.”

  I stopped for a moment and then leaned in. “So, the copyright stuff. I know that City Hall handles some of it.”

  Snappy wiggled a hand. “You see, it’s kinda hard to verify the information with toons unless you are a toon and so, yeah, just keep this between us. If there’s a new toon that’s coming into town, so to speak, they’ll rely on the community or esteemed members thereof,” he said, fanning himself dramatically, “to handle getting the paperwork in order. For the Bay Area, that’s me. There’s been quite a few more popping out of the rift on my estate of late, but you’ll find out more about that tomorrow.”

  I nodded, picked up my groceries, and walked them over to his car, a classic Studebaker.

  “I have to ask, why were you crossing the road? I mean, you were just doing your shopping over here, and—”

  Snappy smiled, pointing to an empty spot across the road. “Oh, I guess you didn’t see it. There was an ice cream truck over there. I’m a sucker for those things.”

  I laughed. “You know, you could have just gone into the supermarket and got some ice cream.”

  He nodded. “I know, but there’s still something special about just taking a couple of bucks and buying an ice cream at an ice cream truck. It doesn’t happen much anymore. Just trying to reclaim a nice thing from the old days.”

  I nodded and loaded my many groceries into his car. Soon, we took off. For an old toon, he was actually a fairly careful driver.

  I’ve been in rideshares with toons who did it for a little entertainment on the side and having some human money didn’t hurt things. Snappy was calm, sedate, the drive as smooth as the jazz he listened to for about 10 minutes before we pulled into Burger Circus.

  I hopped out and held up a finger. “I’ll be right back. Give me just a moment.”

  He nodded and put the car in park.

  Once inside, I went to the counter where I’d placed my order the day before. A human stood there: blonde hair, green eyes, kinda short, plump, a hint of acne, probably no older than 20, I guess.

  “Welcome to Burger Circus. Can I take your order?”

  “Actually, is Lou working here right now?”

  “Oh, no. Did something happen?”

  “No, actually, he was quite helpful the other day. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, it’s just—I hate to say this, but it—you know how toons can get. They’re always trying to—”

  I stopped him. “I’m employed by a toon, I have never had a problem with a toon, and frankly, this kind of language is worrying me a little bit about coming back.”

  The kid behind the counter straightened up and shook his head. “No, no, no, you don’t understand. Lou’s a good friend of mine. It’s just—he can get wacky sometimes, if you get what I mean.”

  I grumbled and fished out a 20. “I owe him for a chicken sandwich that he gave me when I was hungry, as well as a tip. Is there a manager I can give this to, to ensure it gets to him?”

  The kid lowered his gaze and nodded, shuffling to the back. Soon, another human came up. She was tall, had dark skin and a silver nose ring.

  “Yes, sir, can I help you?”

  “I just wanted to say how happy I was with the service that I got the other day from Lou. He was absolutely fantastic, and I forgot to tip him. I wanted to give him a little bonus for the delay. Can I leave this with you?”

  She nodded and I gave her the twenty. She blinked at it and looked back at me. “Sir, are you sure you’re in the right place? This is Burger Circus and you’re offering a $20 tip.”

  I nodded. “I was having a really bad day and he cheered me up. However,” I said, leaning in, “you might want to talk to your normal staffer who’s working up here right now. He almost said some rather anti-toon stuff a moment ago. I don’t think he meant any harm by it, but what kind of ally would I be if I didn’t call this shit out?”

  She shook her head. “Yeah, he comes from a fairly anti-toon household. He does his best, but he needs to catch up faster than what he’s doing. He and Lou are good friends, though. Lou’s a good guy, probably my best worker.”

  “Okay, wel
l, thanks a bunch. I’ve got to head home. I’ve got a job starting tomorrow and tell Lou that things panned out for the very special episode.”

  The manager nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. “I’ll make sure to tell him.”

  I headed out and hopped back in the car. “All right, boss, let’s get back to my place and I will see you in the morning.”

  He grinned, put the car in reverse, and backed out onto the road again. Another 10 minutes, and I was outside my apartment with a pocketful of cash, a trunk full of groceries and, so I learned upon opening the door to my place, a boyfriend full of printed papers with various job ads on them.

  I groaned and facepalmed, then muttered, “I forgot to tell Kyle.”

  He piped up as he saw me come in carrying groceries. “Wow, they must’ve had a sale! So, I found some jobs for you and—”

  Snappy cut him off. “Hey there, I found him a job first though!”

  Kyle looked between me and then the alligator. “What’s this now?”

  I grinned, putting my hands on my hips. “This is my boss, Snappy. Snappy, Kyle. Kyle, Snappy. I am now employed!”

  CHAPTER 4

  I woke up the next day when Kyle’s hand brushed across my chest. He stayed over the night before. The fragments of a dream faded away as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. I turned and looked at my boyfriend, taking in all of the shapes, every detail, even the imperfections. God, I love this man.

  He chuckled slightly. “Okay! Big day, new job. Make sure you’re ready; can’t afford to have you lose this one.”

  I smiled and kissed him on the lips, parting my own. I felt his tongue sneak into my mouth, so I pushed mine against his, and we entwined there in a moment of passion. My hands slid down his body and grabbed at his ass.

  I broke the kiss and simply said, “Oh, don’t worry, it’s definitely not on my agenda to get fired the day I get hired.”

  He ground on me a little more, tickling my feet with his. I felt his manhood stirring and he rubbed it up against my own. What can I say? I get morning wood. I kissed him again, reached down, and gripped both of us together.