Cocktales

by The Cocky Collective

  Everyone turns and gives Brooke, our creative advocate and friend, a pleading look. Unfortunately she doesn’t take the bait and instead encourages him on. “So Arnauld, tell us about your new series idea based on the unique character you’ve developed.”

  “Which is?” I boldly ask. This blowhard can’t be doing character and story development now or we are surely doomed. It’s as if I’ve signed up for a cruise on the Titanic.

  Arnold stands and flips the protective flap over a drawing on matte board and then proceeds to hold it up for us to see. The image is of a cartoony, psychotic-looking black rooster with the orange thing on his head looking like floppy feathers slicked back. To make matters worse, he's got dark Rayban sunglasses and a heavy gold chain around his neck. “Team, let me introduce to you our next star…Sir Cocky! His full name is Sir Cocky Doodle Do.”

  Everyone is silent for several long beats until someone breaks the silence with a loud laugh. “Ha! Cocky … Cocky Doodle Do?” Kevin, our group wild-man wearing the Beavis and Butthead shirt, spits out. “Oh man, you really had me going for a minute. I thought you were serious.”

  Arnold’s eyes narrow as he glares at him. “I’m perfectly serious, Mr….” he turns to look at Brooke.

  “Hughes,” she responds.

  “You are serious?” my team director Joel asks, looking concerned.

  The rest of the room sits stunned because for one, they assumed Arnold never watched our cartoons, let alone wanted to be involved in development, and two, it’s the stupidest, most offensive idea they’ve ever heard.

  “I’m dead serious and you better be too. Because Sir Cocky Doodle Do, the rapping rooster is going to lift us out of our ratings rut. And he’s quite the ladies man, which all the moms watching with their kids will appreciate, right Brooke?” Arnauld turns to her waiting for her endorsement.

  I look over at Brooke, who is biting her lip like she’s fighting back a laugh or a grimace—I can’t be sure. She finally nods at him, “Clearly you were inspired when you came up with that character, Arnauld.”

  For a panicked moment I think that my dream-girl Brooke has gone over to the dark side, agreeing with this idiot just to make him happy, and I feel gutted. Brooke has always had integrity and outstanding taste in her cartoons and comics, so this leaves me wondering if she fell and hit her head since we last spoke. How can I love a woman so completely when she supports such low level ideas in this medium that I love so much?

  Thankfully, my spirits are lifted when I glance up at her and she winks at me. I let out the breath I’ve been holding and tip my head at her with a concerned look. She mouths at me “it’s okay” and I have to believe in her. Anything less would just break my heart.

  Our IT guy Chester, who is black, speaks up. “So this black Cock with a gold chain that dogs on women is a rapper?” He looks completely offended by the social misappropriation.

  “He is! Isn’t that awesome Chester?” Arnauld says proudly. “Our big Cock lady’s-dude and bad ass rapper is hot stuff for our moms out there, and Sir Cocky Doodle Do is a big personality for the kids!”

  Chester does not appear happy with his explanation and folds his arms over his chest. “Damn,” he hisses.

  “And what exactly do you mean by cocky?” One of the girls asks with an arched eyebrow.

  Arnauld shrugs. “You know, confident—he knows he’s hot stuff and a catch for any little chickadee out there, and he can charm their feathers off. He’s like that lover-boy skunk that was in those old cartoons.”

  “Are you talking about Warner Bros.’ Pepe le Pew who was always going after Kitty?” Dani pipes in.

  “Yeah that’s the one,” Arnauld agrees, apparently happy with the comparison.

  “I don’t know about that,” Genna points out. “He was way too aggressive. That behavior won’t fly with the #MeToo generation.”

  Arnauld makes a face like he can’t be bothered. “We can’t have a small minority define our initiatives.”

  Small minority? He hears gasps and then eye daggers being thrown Arnauld’s way from every female attending – and most of the men too.

  Brooke squeezes her eyes shut and pinches her fingers on the sides of her temples like she suddenly has a migraine, but Arnauld keeps rambling on.

  “The show will take place on an urban farm right in the center of a big city like New York.”

  “So it’s like if Central Park is a farm with this cocky rooster?” Dani asks in her most sarcastic tone.

  King Boo-Foo’s eyes light up like he just hit the jackpot in Vegas. “Great idea! The farm will be deep in Central Park! Good work … what’s your name?” he asks Dani.

  “Dani,” she says weakly.

  He turns to Brooke, “Make note that I want her working on the pilot script.”

  “But I’m a background artist,” Dani points out, giving me a panicked look.

  He waves his hand in the air. “No matter! Great ideas can come from anyone.”

  Dani’s face is rapidly losing color as she looks over at me with a wide-eyed look of panic. I shake my head in disbelief.

  “Sir Cocky’s object of affection will be Chicky Chica, the smart-mouthed hottie from the hen house.”

  “So how exactly is this a kid’s show?” Genna asks.

  “Funny animals, cute songs and bright colors … all the things kids love!”

  “As if that ogre has any idea what kids love,” Bruce mumbles next to me just loud enough for me to hear.

  My stomach is churning at this point, and I can’t even look up when he reveals the Chicky Chica art. But when I glance over at Nick, our head writer, he looks like his head is going to explode. He pipes in: “Are there any Asians in this show? Because as long as we are offending entire ethnic groups we shouldn’t leave anyone out.” He leans back in his chair with a scowl and Arnold scowls back at him. “Watch your attitude. We aren’t offending anyone. “We're celebrating their cultures.”

  “Sure you are,” responds Chester, shaking his head.

  The whole room is the most somber I’ve ever seen it because it’s becoming clear that Arnold is not going to back down from this disaster of a concept.

  “I read recently that cartoons perform best when they are written on two levels - one for adults and for kids. I’m so sure of Sir Cocky’s appeal that I’ve already trademarked, secured copyrights and had my lawyer send out some cease and desist letters to people who have used that name.”

  “Someone else did a cartoon with a character called Cocky Doodle Doo?” Bruce, the other animation director in the room, asks, his voice laced with disbelief.

  “Actually, it was a series of gay pornos that came out a few years ago, but we’re shutting them down.”

  “Nice,” Kevin sarcastically mumbles with a frown.

  Dani looks over at him dismayed since Kevin seems to be agreeing with the cease and desists.

  “That series was one of my favs. Why do the creatives always end up getting screwed by greedy narcissists?” Kevin laments and Dani nods in agreement.

  “Hey wait a minute,” Joel says. “You said you came up with this character so the writing would play to both adults and kids. Our show Bucky and the Beaver Patrol does that in spades, and without offending women and people of color.”

  “I’m not here to argue with the staff. We’re here to launch a new initiative and I need everyone on board if they still want their jobs here.”

  Joel wilts back in his seat. He just bought a new house and he can’t afford to be out of work right now, so he gets quiet and resigned to the new reality.

  My disgust is so overwhelming that the rest of the meeting is a murky blur. The only command that stands out is his direction that our team and Bruce’s team will be working on the pilot together, and naturally it’s a rush job since he has to present it to the corporate mothership before they sign off on the series.

  It’s a good thing that Arnold has to rush off to a big-wig meeting, since that allows everyone to vent all the way
back to our cubicles.

  “I’m not working on this misogynistic, racially insensitive, ludicrous concept,” Dani insists. “I wish Billie was in that meeting, she would’ve kicked his ass.”

  I picture that very idea with a smile on my face. Billie, the owner of our favorite comic book store and all around badass, takes no prisoners. She would have Arnold quaking in his Armani shoes after his proclamation.

  “And who does he think he is, having his lawyers send cease and desist demands to existing users of the title when we haven’t even made a cartoon yet?” Bruce comments.

  “I’m calling the union,” Genna states. “I’m not working on that garbage, and neither is the rest of my team if we can figure a way out of it.”

  We’re almost back to our work area when I quietly take a detour and head to Brooke’s office. Her assistant isn’t at her desk, so I step into her doorway and wait for Brooke to get off the phone. As soon as she sees me, she wraps the call up and waves me in, telling me to shut the door behind me.

  She gestures to the couch, but I remain standing with my hands shoved into my jean’s pockets. “What was that all about?” I’m surprised that I have the courage to be so direct with her, but Arnold pushed me over the line. Besides, I can’t hide my disappointment in her encouraging his craziness.

  Is her resulting fallen expression guilt? She purses her lips together and looks down at the papers on her desk. “I tried, Nathan … you have no idea how hard I tried to talk him out of this. He just wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “You should hear them downstairs. We’re a few grumbles away from a walk out.”

  “I know, I know,” she says with a sigh.

  “But I thought that we were better than this, Brooke. I mean, not all of our shows are great, but none of them are sensational just to get the wrong kind of attention. We won't just hurt many of our viewers … we'll be the laughing stock of the industry.”

  She leans her elbows on her desktop and rests her face into her open hands before groaning.

  I clear my throat. “I’m not going to get behind this and have my name attached to such an offensive idea.” I silently wonder how she could have ever started dating such an ass as Arnold and then agree to their “open” relationship. Maybe this fiasco will be the final straw that breaks up what is already a relationship for show at best. Then I’ll be right there to show her how much better a devoted boyfriend like me could be.

  She lifts her head up and gazes at me with hope in her eyes. “There’s got to be a way to stop him. I’d really appreciate it if you helped me figure out how.”

  I think about all the time we’ve spent together the last few weeks outside of work, our special friendship starting with me helping her transfer her data from one computer to another and then evolving into so much more. If you would have told me just a few months ago that after divulging my geeky social awkwardness to Brooke, that she would be spending quality time with me and teaching me how to not just charm a girl, but how to be a great kisser, I would have thought you were nuts. But now look at us. Just remembering how our last time together felt makes my face feel hot. I hope I’m not beet red.

  “Okay, I’ll help you, Brooke,” I respond to her plea. “But you know that means we’re going to have to be super heroes. So I hope your Wonder Woman tiara and silver cuffs are easily accessible.”

  She sits up taller and grins. “They are. And will my Clark Kent be ready to transform into Superman? Dealing with Arnauld will be a piece of cake for you compared to stopping a speeding bullet.”

  “Indeed,” I agree, pushing my glasses up my nose. “He’ll regret ever challenging the likes of us!” Holding my arms open to beckon her, I command, “Come here Wonder Woman.”

  She quickly gets up and steps around her desk until she is close enough to fall into my arms. “Oh, thank you Nathan!”

  I wrap my arms tightly around her and rub my hand up and down her back to calm her. I feel guilty that all of my anger about what Arnold has planned is fading away, replaced with the sheer perfection of having Brooke pressed up against me. The longer I hold her the more she seems to relax, and when she finally looks up at me, I am overcome with desire to kiss her again. And this wouldn't be one of our kissing lessons, but something far more spontaneous.

  She seems to have the same idea as she reaches up and cups her hand around my neck to draw me nearer. Next thing I know our lips are pressed together, with each kiss becoming deeper until I’m wondering how this will possibly stop - since I’m pretty sure I could kiss Brooke forever.

  It’s the blasted knock on her office door that finally snaps us back to reality.

  “One minute,” Brooke calls out to her snarky assistant.

  “He’s calling you into that meeting, and he says to hurry,” Morgan warns through the crack in the door.

  “Okay, okay,” Brooke calls out. She smoothes her hair and pulls her shirt down over her slacks. “Is my lipstick all over my face?” she asks me.

  I lovingly wipe off the bits that look suspect on her flawless skin, and then grin at her before dragging the back of my hand across my lips. “What about me?”

  “I think you got it all,” she says with a smile. “I’ll call you later,” she whispers as she turns and rushes out the door.

  Brooke messages me later that she wants me to come over tonight and help brainstorm a plan with her. She already told Arnold that her stomach is bothering her, so they will have to put his “celebration dinner” off for another night.

  I show up at her condo in the Hollywood hills with two six packs of Stella beer and a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts for dessert. Meanwhile, Brooke picked us up French dipped beef sandwiches at Greenblatt’s deli. We eat outside on her balcony. With the warm breeze, the terrific view of the glittering L.A. skyline, and Brooke right next to me, I’m by far the happiest I’ve been all day.

  “How are you doing?” I ask, “You’re kind of quiet tonight.”

  She frowns and pushes her plate away. “I just never thought my career would end up being so ridiculous. All I wanted was to work with talented people, and put out quality, imaginative animation. But I’m left with my bogus, sham-of-a-boyfriend-slash-boss humiliating our studio with his unmanageable ego and idiotic ideas. What is my life, Nathan?”

  I reach out and take her hand. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Brooke. After all, what is a dynamic career if you don’t have at least one or two idiots for bosses? That should fuel your ambition when you realize you are so much smarter than they are.”

  “Aww, you're trying to make me feel better. Thank you, but what about our immediate problem? He’s not backing down from his bird-brained concept.”

  “The beauty of filmmaking is that there are always reshoots and editing. If there is a clear vision and goal, anything can happen,” I say cryptically. “Hey, I brought my remastered Looney Tunes DVD’s. What do you say we watch some?”

  She gives me a soft smile. “Well, between curling up with you, those cartoons and this,” she holds up her second bottle of beer that I just opened for her, “I should be feeling much more optimistic very soon.”

  “Good!” I say with a smile.

  Over an hour later I’m feeling quite content with Brooke snuggled up next to me as we watch some of my all-time favorite cartoons. As a kid I never caught some of the political comments, pop culture references, or racy gags because they were all delivered by a stuttering pig, wacky duck or smart-aleck rabbit. You don’t have to hit viewers over the head with such subjects. You just let them appreciate the subtle things they catch while watching, their kids not aware of anything but the funny story. This Sir Cocky the rapping rooster nonsense is destined to be heavy-handed and offensive—so what can be done?

  And just then, an image lights up in my mind like those old comics where there’s a big light bulb over Felix the Cat’s head. What if we make the cartoon so bad and offensive that Arnold’s bosses trash the project? Given the already inappropriate idea behind the show, it woul
dn’t be hard to take it down several notches. I toss the idea and potential problems around in my head until I feel certain this is an idea worth considering.

  “Brooke!” I turn and realize she’s half asleep against me, so I gently rock her awake. “Brooke, I have an idea for our problem!”

  She blinks her sleepy eyes open. “Really?”

  “Yes! Are you awake enough to talk about it?”

  She rubs her face briskly and sits up straight. “I am now!” Her expression is so bright and hopeful that I really don’t want to let her down.

  “So I was thinking, I remember reading an interview with one of the original Looney Tunes directors and he said that they had a special technique of dealing with their network censor's constraints on adult humor.”

  “Yes, and what was that?”

  “This director said he would add extra footage throughout the cartoons with more obvious inappropriate humor. Nine times out of ten the censors would reject all the added racy stuff and leave the marginal stuff, which looked tame in comparison. So all that was needed was a quick re-edit and they were good to go!”

  “And that actually worked?” she asks a skeptical look on her face.

  “Well, most of the time. The funny thing is that there were a few times when the censors missed the real obvious stuff that was meant to be edited out, and it’s still in the cartoons today.”

  “Wow!” she laughs, a big smile on her face. But her smile suddenly fades as quickly as it appeared. “But there is no way we can get away with that. Arnauld will be seeing early cuts before any censors do. He swears he is going to be hands-on with this whole project since it’s ‘his baby’.”

  “But there will be a formal presentation for the corporate peeps, yes?”

  She nods. “He’s already talked about that. They were already coming in May so it'll be then.”

  “That explains the crazy tight deadline. But I’m talking about loading up the extra content to be seen by the execs first before the network sees it. That way they will certainly pan the series idea and we’ll never get as far as the network censors seeing it. It will already be dead in the water.”