She could remember it quite well: the scent of cherry gum, the sound of the pencil scratching on the crisp white paper, the Glenn Miller humming in the background. Her wide black eyes searched the page for another, but she was alone, under the glaring light and shadow of her creator. Then, there was feeling: A cold, wet dab of bright red paint on her ticklish nose. She crinkled it and sneezed, issuing a gasp of shock from her creator. This encouraged her, and so she sat up from the page, feeling the surge of energy through the tips of her lopsided ears down to her huge feet. She pushed up off the page and brushed the eraser shavings from her fur, testing her newfound balance. She looked around the desk, at the inkpot, the speaker blaring In the Mood, and the pencil box. At her feet was chicken scratch with words about her-

Alice- 13 years-

Sarcastic, imaginative, adventurous, well read

Talents- she sings, plays the piano, dulcimer, and clarinet

She looked up at the artist, her humble creator, and blew a small kiss. She hopped down from the desk and landed lightly on the carpet below, careful not to drip the still-fresh ink on the fluffy white nylon. She was at her creator's feet, and she quickly observed that she was as her hips in height. Not a bad height, she decided, but another inch or two would've been nice.

Her creator looked down at her, disbelief evident in her eyes, but a trembling at the corner of her mouth, as though she wanted to smile but couldn't. "You're… you're alive?"

Alice opened her tense mouth and rolled her tongue around, gaining the feeling. A hum in the back of her throat caught her attention and she pressed down in the back of her throat, producing a new sound. "…Yes… yes…? Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" she cried, enjoying the sound of her own voice. It was a light, clear, melodic voice, like water. But there was squeaky, hyper sound she could detect behind the elegance, and she knew it was the sarcastic humor waiting to be tested.

Then, in a rush of thoughts common to a new toon, another thought popped into her bursting head. She looked around and spotted it- a mirror above the dresser. Up, up, up, on her still sensitive legs, she hopped and landed lightly on the top of the dresser.

"Ooh!" she squealed, admiring herself in the mirror. She was short and skinny, with uncommonly big feet, even for a toon, but she was cute, nonetheless. Not as cute as… who? She knew the name, but couldn't place a face just yet.

Her skirt was a nice, deep shade of sky blue, and her big ears were tied back with a ribbon. She was particularly fond of her cute little nose, perfectly red and round and shiny, and the tuft of hair on her head that fell into a perfect curl, just like her creator's hair. All in all, she wasn't half bad looking.

Using her newfound voice again, she replied, "I like it! Nice job on my nose! I- ooh! What is that?"

She turned around and grabbed at it, but it disappeared. She looked over her shoulder and there it was, wagging in her face. She began to chase it around herself and slipped off the side of the dresser. She landed with a clunk on the carpet and shook her head. Then, she could see it between her legs and she realized she was sitting on it.

The artist leant and picked her up gingerly. "That's your tail, Alice, Sweetie."

Alice hopped up on the bed and waggled her tail, a tiny smile appearing on her face. "It's pretty," she said, her eyes widening. She snapped her tail and plopped down contently. She smiled again at the artist and said, "You look awfully scared, you know."

The artist remained, still clutching the chair. "No, I'm not…"

Alice rolled her black eyes kindly and said, "Well sit down, then!"

The artist sat next to her, a sudden, elated smile spreading across her face. She asked quickly, "Do you know what you are?"

Alice squinted at the ceiling and thought hard. "Am I an Animaniac?"

The artist stood up and squealed like a pig, clapping her hands wildly. "Yes! Yes, you are!" she exclaimed, thrilled.

Alice squinted at her almost nervously. "It's alive, it's alive!" she said to herself.

The artist said hastily, "Do you know… um, any others?"

Alice stared at her. "Um, I think so. There are more, right?"

"Yes, three more. Think harder." The artist had folded her hands as if praying, and she awaited Alice's answer patiently.

"They live in California, huh?"

Being the image of an artist, who, as an artist does, poured her own feelings and emotions into the character, she understood her creator's thoughts exactly. Her fears were her fears, her pains were her pains, and her knowledge was her knowledge, and Alice was pleased to find that there was plenty of all of it. So she immediately understood that she was in Reno, Nevada. She smiled lightly at her creator.

"Not a bad town, Reno," she confessed, "But it's certainly not Burbank, now, is it?"

The artist responded carefully, "No, it's not."

Alice jumped down and strolled determinedly to the door.

The artist reached out. "Wait! W-where are you going?"

Alice stared. "To Burbank, of course!"

"You don't know where that is, though. Do you?"

Alice instinctively reached and grasped, and from behind her she pulled a map. She flipped it open and studied it casually.

The artist gasped. "How did you do that?"

Alice wrinkled her nose, thinking harder than before. "I don't know. But Burbank isn't too far."

The artist ran to her speaker and grabbed her phone. She typed something in and exclaimed, "It's seven hours to get there, Alice. When we go to Disneyland, my family and I just fly, and you don't have a ticket! This is a real world, not a cartoon! You can't just spontaneously go somewhere!"

Alice grinned broadly. "Of course I can! And I'll fly, just like you said. Thanks for the tip."

The artist's jaw hung open incredulously. "You're leaving?"

"Oh, it depends, you know. I just wanted to meet my brethren."

"You are going to meet the Warner Brothers… and the Warner Sister?"

Alice batted her eyelashes impishly. "You mean you don't want me to stay?"

The artist reached out. "Oh, no, of course I do! But, erm… I want you to be happy, too. You can go see them, if you wish…"

Alice thought to herself for a moment or two and made up her mind. "What if I just visit?"

The artist nodded slowly. "Go on ahead. You're an Animaniac; you can get there. But, wait! First… can I get a picture with you?"

Alice rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'm already a star," she sighed, "But it's a living." She posed for the camera with the cheesiest smile she could muster. Then the artist escorted her through the house and to the front door.

However, just when she was walking out, the artist called, "Wait!"

Alice turned around. The artist went to her and grabbed her arm gently. She strapped her watch around Alice's wrist and said, "Think of me when you see it, okay?"

Alice smiled and gave her a quick hug. "Of course," she promised. "I will guard this watch with my life, m'lady."

With that, she walked out into the street, the hot Nevada sun warming the pavement and scorching her new, tender feet. She stood at the end of the street, focusing on the tree- lined stretch of pavement before her. With a bit of concentration, she could feel herself changing, and with a burst of energy, the little airplane barreled down the street and rocketed into the sky with a boom just before she hit the fence. West she soared, imagining what she would find when she arrived.