Paint the Toon Red

by A. J. Mayall

  “You guys are taking to this pretty easily.”

  “Well, it’s not the weirdest thing we’ve seen humans do. You ever heard of the lambada? Dubstep?”

  Betty piped up from the kitchen, adding, “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives!”

  I chortled at that. “Okay, okay. Still, I’m going to have to get some work done.”

  Barry smiled, patting the seat next to his. “You can finally sit at our table and experience toon food the way it was meant to be,” he said, sliding about seven pancakes onto my plate.

  I looked at him. “I don’t think I can eat all that.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “It might be considered a gag.”

  He inhaled through his teeth. “You’re right. Try what you can; we’ll see where your limits are.”

  I nodded and they looked expectantly giddy. I sliced into the stack of pancakes, stabbed the triangular section with a fork, swirled it in some maple syrup and brought it to my lips.

  “Sorry, it tastes the same as it always did.”

  Barry’s jaw dropped. His actually made it to the floor. “No way! This is the best,” he said, pulling about five pancakes off the pile and flipping them into his mouth, swallowing them whole.

  He shuddered, almost orgasmically, and sat back in his chair. “That is amazing, honey. You are the best cook.”

  Betty blushed and looked over at me. “But he—”

  A light bulb appeared over Barry’s head. “How about this?” he said, going to another room and returning with a bowl of fun-size candy bars. “They’re a couple of months old but might still be good.”

  I shrugged and opened one up. It looked okay. I popped into my mouth and sweet heavenly bliss filled my senses. “Oh my God, Harry Potter was right! Chocolate does fix everything!”

  The two badgers looked at me incredulously.

  I coughed a little bit. “Ooh, I think it went down the wrong pipe.”

  “You don’t have a wrong pipe,” said Betty.

  “That’s true,” I said, rubbing my throat.

  Barry waved his hands. “Okay, here’s the thing, you’re always welcome to come over for dinner, but we need to find a way of getting you toon food.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that candy bar won’t actually give you any sustenance.”

  “Wait, you mean—”

  “Yeah,” said Betty. “Human food is to toons like toon food is to humans.”

  I nodded and ate the pancakes. They didn’t taste bad, they almost didn’t taste of anything, like a song with the volume turned all the way down or a good show on an old TV with bad reception.

  Or La Croix.

  I got through about three and a half pancakes before my stomach rumbled. “Yeah, that’s definitely my limit.”

  Barry and Betty continued to eat. “Okay. Honey, would you mind putting away the rest of it?” Barry said to his wife.

  Betty nodded and lifted up the table, opened her mouth wider than I’d ever seen a toon, and let everything, plates and all, fall into her mouth. She chewed once, twice, thrice, gulped it down, and then let out a belch that rattled the windows. Next thing I knew, she deflated back to normal size.

  “Sorry, excuse me!”

  I sighed. “So, I need to tell you guys that I did something yesterday.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, I had to prove to Snappy that I was who I said I am. He showed up at my place last night. Try as I might, he wouldn’t believe me.”

  Barry nodded. “Okay, what’d you do?”

  “First, I tried breaking my rating by cursing at him…a lot. He was perturbed but assumed that—I dunno, he said something like ‘my ink hadn’t set.’”

  Barry looked at Betty and shrugged. “I’m not really familiar with the ins and outs of new toon arrivals. I don’t really handle that sort of thing, but Snappy’s been around for almost a hundred years and he’s made it his business to help out the new guys. So, what finally got him to realize?”

  I paused. “I said something that you kinda told me not to say. I don’t want to say it again because the look on his face was one of abject horror and I have a feeling that I’m going to go to Toon Hell because I said it.”

  Barry looked at Betty. “And what could you have possibly said?”

  Betty clutched at her pearl necklace. “Oh dear, did you say something bad about Mother and Father?”

  I gritted my teeth nervously and nodded slightly. Barry got up from the table and looked ready to punch me. I swear I could see steam coming out of his ears. “You did what?!”

  “I had to prove that I’m a human in a toon body!”

  Barry’s eyes were turning red. “You would—after we’ve done—”

  Betty grabbed Barry and held him. “He doesn’t know.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “What is this Mother and Father? I don’t know.”

  Barry shook, taking deep breaths until he was visibly calm again. “You have to understand that what you did goes completely against everything we believe in.”

  I scowled at him. “Barry, the way we met was my being gay got me kicked out of my folks’ house because it went against their religion. Don’t you dare do the same thing to me. I don’t know if I could live with myself, and the fact that matter is I don’t know if I can die now either.”

  Barry stopped, looked down and nodded. “Sorry about that. I have to keep reminding myself when I look at you that you really don’t know these things.”

  “Well, tell me already! We’ve been beating around the bush for like five minutes! What is this church you go to? Who are Mother and Father?”

  Betty held up her hands. “We’ll get to that eventually. I’m trying to think of a good human equivalent.”

  Barry snapped his fingers. “Fight Club!”

  “That’s a good one! Yes, it’s like Fight Club. We never talk about it unless it’s with someone who’s a member and that is toons. Humans can never know about it. Well, some kind of know about it a little bit, but we keep it very hush-hush.”

  “And because I have a human mind, I’m not allowed to know.”

  Barry shrugged. “That’s kind of why we haven’t told you anything. Don’t worry about it just yet.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’ve never really been religious before, right?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t been.”

  “Just keep going down that path for now. We’ll talk about it later. It’s a cultural thing you’re going to need to know, but you’ve got bigger fish on your plate.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

  That’s when the smell hit me; Betty, without missing a beat, had put a large fish on my plate.

  Hours later, in my apartment, I was trying to figure out how to handle this. How was I going to handle Kyle? How was I going to handle working for Snappy, knowing that a person who tried to murder me was still a good friend of his who still lived in his backyard and would never even be punished for what she did?

  I needed somebody to figure this out. That’s when I remembered the phone number. I peeled off my shoe, pulled out the card, grabbed my phone, and dialed it.

  “Hello?” came a familiar voice a few rings later.

  “Hi, this is—we met last night.”

  There was a long pause. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need your help.”

  30 minutes later, I was sitting in Burger Circus, getting some very odd stares from both the humans and the toons. I kept human money in my shoe, which I guess was getting passed off as an odd gag but was mostly done because I had no pockets. Frankly, I felt nervous and exposed; here I was, in a family establishment, not wearing any damn pants.

  Screwloose was in, but I didn’t let him in on who I was. It was weird getting to meet him again. I ordered a burger, some onion rings, and a milkshake, which got me a very odd look from him. I was still sitting on the pancakes, but onions rings are hollow, and therefore don’t take up space in your sto
mach.

  I glanced over at some of the other toons. I saw a pig, a cow, and a bull eating animated food they pulled from their hammerspace, giving me a very odd look for enjoying human cuisine. I was still kind of stuffed, but I needed some comfort food.

  I took the rest to go when I saw the swarthy man walk in. He scanned the room and saw me, tipped his chin up at me, and took a seat across from me at the table.

  “Okay, I’m here, let’s talk.”

  “I need to get this reversed,” I said, gesturing to myself.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to help you with that.”

  “Listen, you’re a private eye! Can’t you, like, look into it or something?”

  “Are you going to pay me?”

  “Of course I’ll pay you!” I blinked. I didn’t even know this man’s name yet. “But I don’t know who you are.”

  He shook his head and extended a hand. I grabbed and gave it a hearty shake. “People call me Chance. Chance Ovuskno. Think ‘of-husk-know’ if you’re having difficulty pronouncing it.”

  I looked at Chance and smiled. “I’m Fairfax.”

  “Nice to meet you, Fairfax.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Chance.”

  “With the pleasantries out of the way, I might be able to give you a bit of a discount if you help me with the case I’m currently working on.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, I’m looking for a missing kid.”

  “If it’s Brandon Butler, then he’s—”

  “No, no, I’ve got some connections in eastern Europe. There’s a very wealthy family with loose ties to some royal house. They ran afoul of gangsters, and—I’m not certain of the full details on it.”

  I crossed my arms in front of me. “You’re a private detective and you don’t know?”

  “Fine, I know, and I’m not at liberty to tell you about it, but there’s a kid who’s gone missing and I’m trying to find him. The last place I heard that he was seen at was around Snappy Gator’s estate. I’m trying to find him and bring him back to his family.”

  “You wanted a man on the inside before. Would you take a fox?”

  Chance nodded. “Any day. I would be more than happy to have a pair of eyes and ears in there.”

  I inhaled. “Listen…I’ve got a copyright binding me to this job. If you can get that broken or something, I’d be really grateful.”

  He nodded. “I’ll do this one for free if you help me find the kid.”

  Screwloose came to our table, presenting me my milkshake. “Chocolate-dipped strawberry, large. For you, sir?” he said, looking at Chance, who shook his head and pointed at me. Screwloose inhaled and sighed, rolling his eyes. “Darn hipsters,” he said, putting the milkshake down in front of me.

  “Hipster? Why am I—”

  Chance pointed at the food. “You’re eating human food. He assumes you’re doing it ironically.”

  “Yeah, well, toon food tastes kinda bland to me, and this tastes great. I’m sure that’ll change in time. I dunno, this whole thing’s just…insanity, and I’ve got to get to work still.”

  “What’s Snappy have you do?”

  “I dunno. I haven’t called him yet. To be fair, I could just say I was doing paperwork and he’d probably still pay me. It didn’t have to actually be his, and he’d probably think it was a good joke.”

  Chance grinned and looked me up and down. “Well, that’s good. You know, you’re looking a lot better than yesterday. You finally shake off those injuries?”

  I lifted a hand and shook it side to side. “You remember how nervous I was when you put the shoes and the bowtie on me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It turns out that I can’t do a gag and or embrace my toonhood, but if someone else does it to me, that circumvents the consequences.”

  Chance nodded. “Fascinating!”

  “Now, at least I know that there’s an out in case someone actually does drop an anvil on me. You know, except for the fact that I’ll actually feel the cracked skull and brain injuries.”

  Chance stood and shook my hand again. “We’ll meet again tomorrow. I’d really like to help you out on this stuff, and frankly, that woman has been a suspect in mind for some time. Also, I’m going to need to let you in on a few other little secrets.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Please, no more secrets. I’m so done with secrets.”

  Chance dropped a five in the tip jar at the front counter, and Screwloose gave him a friendly wave.

  I waved over to Screwloose shortly after and asked for a bag so I could take this home, which he did, begrudgingly. So, I would be an outcast in toon society unless I figured out how to fit in.

  I bagged my food and headed back to my apartment. When I got there, I could hear my phone buzzing on the couch. I’d taped my apartment key behind the center button of my bowtie; I pulled it out and let myself in.

  It was Kyle. He was owed an explanation. I answered the phone.

  “Thank God! Tyler, you there?”

  “I—Kyle, I don’t know how to tell you this…”

  Kyle chuckled. “You sound funny. Coming down with something? You’re all squeaky.”

  “I—I’ve been going through a lot.”

  “It was just one dinner. Like, don’t worry about it. I just—did he throw too many pies at you or something?”

  “No, no, no, it’s not that. I—Kyle,” I started crying. “I want to see you but I don’t know if I can. I need you, but I don’t know if you can take what’s happened.”

  There was silence on the other end. Then: “Tyler, you made it home okay last night, right? I drove by earlier and I didn’t see your car. Were you in an accident?”

  He wasn’t far off with that. “Yeah, I kinda was. I’m back at my place. My car’s over at Snappy’s and I’m not going to be doing much work at his house anymore. I will probably be just running errands for him, but you have to understand…something happened last night and you’re not going to believe it if I tell you.”

  Kyle paused, and I could tell he was struggling with that but also knew that I was a person who liked his space. “Whatever’s going on, we’ll get through this together.”

  “Okay, just…give me some time but also be ready to possibly get the news that we might not be an item anymore, as much as I really want us to be.”

  Kyle was shaken at those words and I could hear a crack in his voice.

  “I love you, man,” he said.

  “I love you more,” I said to him. I hung up, curled into a ball and ugly-cried for a good thirty minutes before I got a text from Snappy giving me my day’s agenda. Every fiber of my being became fixated on completing the tasks for the person signing my paychecks and holding my copyright.

  CHAPTER 11

  My errand boy status, while being generally beneficial to me, wouldn’t last forever. After all, I was beyond contractually obligated to do what Snappy wanted. It was now instinctual. There’s always a way to twist any wish or command and Snappy, ever a toon linked to the classics, found my finding ways to take up more time than I needed to do my own thing a decent gag.

  Luckily for me, it was a human-style gag and not one that would risk my humanity. It bothered me because I’ve always considered myself having a good work ethic but, considering what I’d been through the past few days, I think I would be happy to give up some of that to get business taken care of.

  I made a point whenever I had to pick up information packets about new toons coming into being to bring them to City Hall for processing because Snappy refused to use modern technology for that sort of thing. It was doubly strange, considering he could jump in and out of any screen. It would’ve taken him no time at all to gather up the papers, hop into his television, and hop out of one in a waiting room downtown. It was something I wasn’t willing to do, though; I didn’t know what I’d have to sacrifice for that trick.

  A few days had gone by and I was back at the estate, knocking on the front door.

  Snappy o
pened it and smiled. “Nice to see you there, buddy.”

  I tried to look as solemn and boring as I could, which just unnerved him.

  “Oh, come on, give us a smile.”

  I shook my head. “Do I have to?”

  Snappy shrugged. “No, I suppose you don’t, but—”

  “What do you need me to take?”

  He handed over a briefcase. “Just some old information. I really need to modernize some, but I don’t want to, and you’re pretty good with all of that computer stuff.”

  “Snappy, you really should get with the times.”

  “That’s why I have you.”

  “Okay, fine. So, what do you want me to do? Data entry?”

  “No, no, no, all I want you to do is take everything on those papers and put it into a computer.”

  “Snappy, that’s what data entry is.”

  “Oh! In that case, do that, send the information to City Hall, and drive the hard copies down there, too.”

  “Don’t you want to have a backup copy for yourself?”

  “That sounds like a great idea! Would you do that, too?”

  I shrugged and took the case. On the way back to the bus stop, I passed my car still in Snappy’s driveway. “Hey, boss?” I yelled back at him.

  He turned around. “Yes, Fairfax?”

  “Could you do me a favor, if at all possible?”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  “I understand this might come out of my paycheck, but could you get my car towed back to my apartment? My feet don’t reach the pedals now and my driver’s license doesn’t match me anymore, so—”

  Snappy nodded. “I think with everything you’ve been through, I can at least do that.”

  I continued to schlep my way back to the stop. It was weird how fast I’d gotten used to my cartoon-proportioned anatomy. Admittedly, the first couple of days, I’d been tripping over my abnormally large feet. Going up and down stairs was still a little bit of a hassle, but it was becoming more second nature.

  I had to be careful. How much of this was just muscle memory and how much of this was me having suddenly acclimated to my new toonhood? Had I lost any part of myself?

  It was about a ten-minute walk to the bus stop. When it arrived, I boarded and flashed the rider card that I’d stuffed in the back of one of my gloves—the closest thing I had to pockets.