by A. J. Mayall
I held him there, bringing pleasure to both of us. I saw his eyes narrow and roll back a little bit, back arched in absolute bliss.
He huffed, “Hon, seriously, we can’t have you getting late.”
I let go and kissed his cheek. “Are you sure? Got time for something quick.”
He shook his head. “Trust me, there’s nothing I want more right now than to make love to you, but hon, you got this out of a one-in-a-million shot, and I’m not ruining it for you with some wall-cracking sex.”
I grunted, “Well, I have to take a shower and I’ll probably just finish myself off there, then. I ain’t spending the first day of a new job having blue balls.”
He laughed at that as I got up and headed to the bathroom. I looked back at him; as far as I was concerned, he was an Adonis, and definitely out of my league, though he was on my mind as I showered and took care of other things.
The sound of closet doors and drawers opening told me Kyle was setting out my clothes for the day. He called out, “Did he say if there was any dress code?”
I replied that he just said to wear something that was comfortable but not shabby.
After about 10 minutes of letting the hot water course over me, I turned it off, stepped out, wrapped myself up in a towel, and saw Kyle had laid out a pair of jeans and a purple T-shirt. My wallet and phone lay beside the pile of clothes.
“Thanks, hon,” I said as I dried off and dressed. I smacked him on his still-nude ass as I headed for the door, grabbing and kissing him one last time. “Tonight, then?”
Kyle winked and said, “I’ll think about it. Now, go. You’re going to need insurance. After all, I can’t keep covering all the stuff for you.”
I waved a hand. “I know. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
It was about a 25-minute drive halfway across town before I got to the estate. I couldn’t help but whistle when I looked at it.
He wasn’t joking when he called it an estate. We’re talking wrought-iron gate you have to be buzzed in through, a huge yard that had to take at least an entire team of people to maintain, and, effectively, a three-story mansion.
You know how, in TV shows, if they want to show that someone is affluent, they actually don’t have a normal driveway? How they have a roundabout around a fountain in line with the front door? Yeah, Snappy has one of those.
After being buzzed through the gate, I pulled up to the front. Snappy opened the door to greet me, and he was wearing the same suit I saw him in the day before.
“Oh, good, good, good! You’re here! Okay, I think we should start with a tour of the grounds, and then we’ll get you working on your odd jobs.”
I was too taken with the place to do more than smile and nod.
He bid me enter a quick wave of his hand. “Please, come in. Need to get all this nice and finalized, anyway.”
“What do you mean ‘finalized?’”
“I mean, you’re my employee; we have to make it official, you know? There has to be paperwork and triplicates and collates and all that good stuff.”
I nodded and just shuffled along behind him, looking around. This place had the feeling of a speakeasy from the Prohibition days. What surprised me was the amount of art on the walls. I wasn’t sure if they were paintings because when you have a toon getting photographed and a toon being illustrated, it’s kind of hard to tell which is which. If it was an illustration, it was a damn good one; if it was a photograph, it had withstood the test of time.
“Oh, I see you admiring the art! Yep, I had this done in the back in the 50s, I think,” he said, gesturing to a picture of himself standing on a crate of TNT. “I love how they managed to balance the light in the painting.”
He pulled the painting down so it was flush with the ground. Snappy then pushed it inward, revealing it was actually a door. Not in a ‘secret lever’ sort of way. This was like ‘portable hole’.
I looked at him incredulously. “How did you—”
“You know how some of these buildings are built for toons by toons? This house kind of predates those. This is a house built for a toon by people like you, that I could then modify to my needs.”
“Well, hot damn!”
He basically lived in the opposite of my crummy little apartment: huge, opulent, and everything appeared to be set in reality but ran on toon physics.
“Okay, so here’s the main hall. If you need to get in through normal means,” he said, gesturing to a door on the far end, “you’ll have to take the third left after you enter, which will take you to the kitchen, which can lead you here.”
I tried to mentally note the path and he caught my worry. “It’ll take you time to get used to how things work around here. You know, the first few days, you’ll probably get lost a couple of times and that’s perfectly fine. If you still can’t find your way around after a month or so, then we’ll have some concerns.”
“Basically, this place is a bunch of secret passageways, but they only work if you’re a toon, set up like normal doors to a house would be. However, if you’re human, it’s long convoluted passageways that make no sense, and have no rhyme or reason.”
He snapped his fingers and gave a smile. “Darn skippy!”
“And you’re just going to show me where the secret passages are?”
“Of course! Why would I want to take the long route?”
“Well, I’m going to have to take the long route.”
“And won’t be fun finding out how those work? Anyway, I’ll get you a map if need be.”
“Well, it’s just a house. I don’t know if I—”
“Trust me, you’ll probably need one. If anything, ask some of the landscaping crew.”
“Will I be helping out with the landscaping?”
“You might, I don’t know. I was going need you more for in-house stuff but, you know, heavy work on the grounds probably wouldn’t be that bad. You know, I can have you meet Miss Blake!”
“Who?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s right! I haven’t introduced you yet. One moment,” he said and walked to a set of marble statues, mostly of the Greek variety…you know, in appearance, but then there was one that was of a toon wolf.
He pinched the nose, which made a honking sound and appeared to actually be made out of foam until I touched it and learned it was marble. The entire bookshelf on the far wall opened up, revealing another door leading to a study with a large window and a door leading outside.
In the backyard, I saw what appeared to be a guest house with a huge swimming pool between it and the main manor.
As we walked by the pool, Snappy thumbed at it. “I actually don’t have anyone working on this yet. My last pool boy had to skip town, so that might be something you can handle.”
This house was immaculate. Huge! I actually had no idea what he wanted me to do unless it was, like, handling paperwork and stuff but we walked past the pool toward the guesthouse.
Snappy gave a quick rap on the door and it opened to reveal a woman, human. Her hair probably was supposed to be black or brown, but she had it bleached to a dirty blonde. She had on a pair of dress slacks and a T-shirt.
She looked at Snappy, a little confused, and then at me, even more so. “Yes, Mr. Gator?” she asked.
“Miss Blake, this is Tyler Fairfax. He’s going to be doing odd jobs for me. I just wanted to introduce the two of you.”
I smiled and stuck out my hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
She nodded and sized me up, giving a wry smile. “Oh, you’re the guy who helped him.”
Snappy straightened up and nodded, tipping his fedora in my direction. “Darn tootin’ he did.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Pamela Blake and I am a mostly successful talent agent. Snappy’s one of my main clients.”
“And you live on his property?”
She nodded. “He got lonely and, well, I was looking for better accommodations. Frankly, with the price of rent in this area, living in a place as secure as Snappy’s with as m
uch privacy as he affords me, I figured why not?” She paused and thought for a second. “Would the two of you like to come in? I was just making some breakfast burritos.”
I looked at Snappy, who shook his head. “Oh, I’m giving him the complete tour and I just wanted you two to know each other. This way, if you see each other, you can say, ‘Hey, fellow human!’”
Pamela nodded and smiled at me once again. “Well, Mr. Fairfax, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to knock. Just understand that I am kind of a private person and I may be conducting business at any time. If I don’t answer the door immediately, I’m probably not going to be there for you. The best thing to do, honestly, is if you absolutely need me, knock, otherwise just sort of slide a note through the mail slot.”
Snappy smacked me on the shoulder. “Oh, I don’t think he’s ever going to need to come over and bother you. He’s going to be too busy.”
As Pamela was closing the door, she stopped and looked at Snappy. “So, if he’s just doing odd jobs around here, does that mean I can have him do odd jobs?”
I paused, looked at Snappy, then at Pamela, and piped up, “Will you be paying me?”
She shook her head, her smile going wide. “No, I probably can’t afford to have an assistant at this point.”
“Well, that settles that. If you want to subcontract me, you have to talk to him.”
Snappy grabbed me tightly and shook me roughly. “He’s mine! All mine! I found him first, and you can’t have any!”
Pamela gave Snappy a thumbs-up and then gave me a slightly defeated look. “Oh, honey, I do not envy you.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’ve never worked with a toon before, have you?”
“I have, periodically, but—”
“No, I mean like really worked with a toon.”
“No, why?”
“When you’re done with your shift and you want to have a drink, I’ll make sure to stick by the door. You’re going to need one.”
Snappy proceeded then to show me the rest of the estate. The first stop was a greenhouse, which housed many rare plants and a sizable vegetable garden. The fruit and veggies grown there apparently were offered to Pamela first and then donated to a local food shelter afterward.
He then showed me to the second greenhouse, which was literally that: it was a house that was green, as were its contents. Apparently, what came with being an alligator that was monochrome was a little jealousy about all the other ones actually being green. So, he had built a little museum to the color.
I knew I was in for weird times.
Soon enough, we were back in the house and Snappy was preparing a salad with veggies from the first greenhouse.
“Sorry, I really don’t have anything else for you. The kitchen is more for show than anything. I mean, if I ever have to entertain people, I usually hire a caterer.”
I ate and nodded. “So,” I said between mouthfuls of salad, “what sort of odd jobs are we talking about?”
Snappy snapped his fingers. “Before we do that, we need to get you your proper uniform,” he said, reaching behind him. He produced a box from his hammerspace, opened it, and inside were a pair of black-and-white saddle shoes and a white cartoon bowtie.
“What’s this?”
“Your uniform.”
“There are no pants or shirt in here.”
“I mean, you can still wear those if you want, but you’re going to be working on my estate and you should be presentable for working on such esteemed grounds.”
I shrugged and grabbed the bowtie, which appeared to be a simple loop of fabric, a sort of ball of white fabric, and two butterfly-like wings on the side. I stretched it out, slipped it over my head, and snapped it on my neck. It felt like a combination of silk and a latex glove. It just didn’t feel natural in a way I couldn’t put my finger on.
My sneakers came off next, and I put my feet inside the saddle shoes. They were on the big side, outwardly bordering on clown shoes, but after a couple of steps, they seemed to acclimate to me. They fit like they were built for me, which, ostensibly, they were. I was just happy that as I walked, they didn’t squeak or make honking noises.
“Okay, you’ve shown me the grounds, I’ve got my uniform…what’s the first thing I’ve got to do?”
“We’ll try to keep things not quite so odd for your first task. How about pies?”
“What do you mean, pies? If you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind some dessert,” I said, gesturing to the salad.
When Snappy reached behind himself, it dawned on me what he meant, and I barely had time to react before a pie slapped into my face. Waves of banana cream went past my ears and got stuck in my hair.
I sputtered in shock and wiped my eyes clean. “Snappy, what the heck are you—”
And that’s when the second pie struck. I shook off as much of it as I could, then tasted my fingers. Yep, definitely banana cream, but it was also toon food, which meant it tasted slightly off and would give me no nourishment.
It was great diet food: as much pie as you could eat, and not a single calorie.
“Okay, okay, now turn around; I need to work on my left-hand throw.”
In utter shock, I did as he asked. I was getting paid for this, anyway. As I turned around, I felt yet another pie slap me between the shoulder blades. Then I heard him mutter incoherently behind my back.
“Let me try that again!”
And then I felt it upside the back of my head, with him cheering. I kid you not: this continued for four hours. Different positions, sitting in chairs, laying on couches, watching television. I had to have been hit with at least 500 pies.
Eventually, I just held up my hands and went, “Is this a joke to you? I really need this job!”
Snappy paused and looked at me, curious. “What do you mean? Of course, this is serious. A good pie throw is essential to a toon, and I am seriously out of practice.”
“But you’re paying me to do stuff around the house!”
He shook his head. “No, I never said I was gonna pay you to do things around the house. I said I was paying you to do odd jobs.”
“But this is just—”
“This is a job, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it odd?”
“Yes, but I—”
“You said you specialized in odd jobs. This is an odd job.”
And that’s when it clicked within my head. “Let me get this right. My task here, eight hours a day, five days a week, is for you to throw pies at me or—”
Snappy nodded. “Yes, or seltzer water, or maybe I’ll have you help me calibrate some pianos that I would like to drop on people, or anvils, or sorting my portable hole collection, or—”
“But at no point do you want me to, like, wipe and wash windows, or—you mentioned the pool…”
“I thought maybe you could do some basic maintenance if you were bored and we had nothing else to do, but trust me, I have got pies for years.”
This was going to be a long day.
At about 5 o’clock, Snappy congratulated me on finishing my first day. I went to the backyard and knocked on Miss Blake’s front door.
She answered it, presenting me a martini. I was a mess of pie filling.
“Come on in,” she said and gestured to me.
Her place was nice. It wasn’t spartan like mine, but she had little in the way of art on the walls; very utilitarian.
“How’d your first day go?” she asked, a shit-eating grin on her face.
“I don’t think I like pie anymore,” I said
“He hired you for odd jobs, and you never saw it coming, did you?”
I shook my head and took a sip of the martini. It was good and strong.
“Snappy’s good people. He’ll warm up to you and how you do things, but you’re gonna have to warm up to him, too. You’re not the first he’s brought out here for odd jobs.”
“Oh, and what happened to the rest of them?”
&
nbsp; “They usually quit within about a week. It’s a shame, too, because he pays really well.”
“But how come?”
“How come they quit or how come he pays so well?”
“How about six of one, half a dozen of the other?”
“It’s hard for a toon like Snappy to really connect with the new blood, you know? He’s set in his ways; his ink is practically a stain, as it were. You don’t see him going around being Technicolor, do you?”
“No.”
“When he came over, he was one of the first. He dealt primarily with humans and still likes working with them. He’s kind of a…self-imposed hermit.”
I nodded and understood the feeling. I got along a lot better with my toon neighbors than I did with my human counterparts.
“Give him some time to warm up to you, and trust me, that paycheck’s gonna be sweet. He’s sitting on a load of money and, well, you know how toons are. They don’t actually need money. Anything they want, they just—”
I nodded. “Reach behind their back and get whatever they need.”
Pamela poured herself a glass of wine and that’s when I heard a loud cry, coming from behind a door.
She froze for a second and looked at me. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve got a client downstairs. He’s practicing for a horror film.”
“Really? Anyone I know?”
She held up a hand and took a sip of her wine before stomping on the floor a few times. “Probably, but agent-talent confidentiality and all that. It’s another one of the reasons why like working out here: no one bothers me.”
I took another sip of the martini and looked back at the house. “How the heck am I gonna learn how to maneuver around that house of his if I can’t utilize the—”
She cut me off. “Oh, he gave you the house tour but never actually showed you how all the rooms are actually connected, did he?”
She walked to a desk in the next room, opened the drawer, and pulled out a manila folder. She plucked a piece of paper from it and walked it over to me.
“Here’s a map. This has all the routes humans can take and all the routes Snappy can take. Unless he has human guests, Snappy will only take the routes meant for him.”