JESSICA
Encounter Record [0-1-5-2]: The Date.
They still had the van.
In the Kidd Video cartoon, the band always traveled in a floating yellow bus thing, and this they had parked out behind the Cat Flap.
I got all excited about riding in it, but Mr. Buckthorn had a slightly more romantic idea: The souped up car from Cadillacs and Dinosaurs.
As we drove through a loop of generic cartoon backgrounds, we got to know each other a little better.
Okay, so he got to know me better.
I ended up telling him several things about myself before we arrived in front of that gallery, but I only learned a couple things about him.
When he was an infant, he was abandoned by his parents, left on the doorstep of an obscure character from Apartment 3G, who raised him in secret, and now he owns a number of businesses. So maybe that's all I found out.
He, on the other hand, had the entire story of my pitiful art career. How I took four years of college to get a useless piece of paper that says I'm artist. How I worked full time at Home Depot and spent the rest of the time struggling to keep my little graphic design company afloat, now a thousand dollars in debt.
He didn't share much, but I'm not complaining. I love a good listener.
The gallery was...ridiculous.
We toured a whole section devoted to silly versions of famous paintings, like a version of Whistler's Mother where the woman rocks back and forth in her chair...whistling, and a replica of the Sistine Chapel ceiling the Animaniacs painted with Spielberg as God. No, I didn't make that up.
They had an American Gothic painting where you could stand in place of the old farmers, and stick your head in the Mona Lisa, and another American Gothic where the old people bickered.
Another section, entitled `Contrasts' consisted of oversimplified background art, to make the doodles that stood in front of them `pop out' visually.
The sculptures, having a greater presence in cartoons, were a little more interesting. I noted, with some amusement, they even had that marble reclining nude from the Maniac Mansion video game.
I had to be careful around any statue with a bow and arrow. A statue of Cupid shot me, and now I think there's no escape from this attraction I have for Chad.
They did have a lot of abstract art in there, but I still liked it.
A couple times, Beaver got a little...unruly, but I stepped in the bathroom and scolded it until it behaved.
I spotted Master Splinter from the Ninja Turtles sitting on a bench in the Asian section. He looked really depressed, kept staring at a calligraphic brush painting of two rats kissing, like he was lonely or something, but before I could ask about it, this animated cop comes up to me.
"When I heard your friend talking about a noid girl, I thought he made up a story..."
"Noid? Is that what you call a human around here?"
"Yeah..." He showed me a cartoon badge with the letters CWPD on it.
I noticed he sounded...familiar. "Hey," I exclaimed. "You're that guy, aren't you? Didn't you fall off the side of a hotel or something?"
His eyes bugged out a little. "Wait, you're that girl that helped me, weren't you?"
I nodded. "I kinda grew up."
"Don't grow up too much." He gave a forced chuckle that sounded like a cough. "Anyways, yeah. That was me. Officer Harris. Cool World Police. You weren't there, but I turned into a doodle. It turns out you can become one if a doodle kills you. Look, uh..."
The guy was checking me out, but kept acting like he wasn't. "I know that a lot of doodles get away with wearing stuff like this..." He pulled my cape closed and pinned it shut with a ducky safety pin for emphasis. "But you're just asking for trouble. You do know how the incident in Vegas got started, don't you?"
I shrugged. "Someone uncapped a thing from the roof?"
I know most the details, of course, but I wasn't sure where this was going.
He rubbed his face. "A human slept with a doodle. She got out, she pulled a glowing spike out of a hotel sign."
I pretended to be totally ignorant about it, but all of that seemed like a great idea. "Really!...That's...strange. So...Jack Deebes...slept with a cartoon?"
Harris nodded. "I know it seems like a wonderful idea, but don't try it. You might think they're in love with you, but they just want to become real and take over the world. All of them."
"I'l...keep that in mind."
He cocked a thumb at Chad. "What's you're relationship to this guy, pray tell?"
"He's just a friend. We're just hanging out. I wanted to see the place, and he offered to show me around."
"Be careful what he shows you."
"Um...okay?" I mean, really! Who was he to tell me what to do?
Harris's radio crackled. "Boss. Deebes just broke out."
The cop swore in frustration. "All right. Be there in a second."
He pointed an accusatory finger at me. "Remember what I said."
The man disappeared in a puff of smoke like the Road Runner. Chad took my hand, leading me into the next gallery.
The best exhibit, by far: The landscape section. You can actually go inside the paintings!
I know, kind of weird going inside a piece of art when I'm essentially inside one already, but how could I disagree with Prince Charming?
We must have spent hours just wandering and exploring places. We opened doors in Thomas Kinkaide villages and tracked snow on the carpets, peered through the telescope on a schooner, explored a cave. Best. Museum. Ever.
So anyway, awesome gallery. We'd walk side by side on a beach inside a painting, holding hands, ride horses...
As we sat together on a park bench inside that famous Seurat painting of the people in the park, I leaned on Chad's shoulder and said, "I'm the artist that drew you."
He wrapped an arm around me. "I know. You have exquisite taste. My deepest and sincere thanks."
I chuckled softly, pressing my body against him, enjoying the closeness.
"So..." I purred. "Ice cream?"
He chuckled. "What, and miss this lovely view?"
I punched him softly.
"Have you been to Hoofnagel's?"
"No. But it sounds cute."
We got back in his flashy car, driving to a little fifties style soda shop, one which, for some reason, had a strange looking Model T parked out front.
I noticed a cop car idling around the corner, but I tried to ignore it.
Encounter 0-1-5-3.
"Oh my God," I blurted when I stepped inside.
The Get-Along-Gang. Right there at the counter.
And then I saw Drew, dressed like a cartoon exterminator.
He was on a date. It seemed so serious that he didn't even notice me come in.
Apparently he had found a little redhead, someone from The Archies or a Hanna Barbara cartoon, by the looks of it.
I covered my mouth to stifle a giggle, gesturing for Chad to join me in a corner booth.
We quietly ordered shakes, and our server, Mr. Hoofnagel himself (I hardly even remembered that guy being in the cartoon, it's been so long) disappeared behind the counter.
Okay, so this is where I get out my phone and start typing really, really fast.
I wrote some of what you've read earlier in the museum, or in the Cat Flap, but this is the first time I really stopped and assembled all my thoughts together.
The cop car pulled up to the window and stayed there. "You're not doing anything wrong," I muttered as I continued to document.
Mr. Stud Muffin caught me writing. "What are you doing with that small device, sweet flower blossom?"
I chuckled and told him. "I'm documenting everything I can observe in this unusual and interesting world."
"Have you been documenting anything about me?"
I grinned. "Naturally. In fact, once I get home, I will devote an entire chapter to you in the book I will publish."
"I am honored."
The shakes arrived.
Judging by what happened in the bar earlier, I half expected the soda goat to grab us and give us a good jostling, but instead he comes out with actual shake shakes.
In retrospect, I should have engineered some way to get Chad to share the same shake, but we both ordered chocolate, and well, I was nervous.
For a moment, as I sip my drink, I glance at Drew in amusement, maybe some worriment. You know, like I somehow thought him pathetic for dating a cartoon when there I was dating one myself.
But then Chad grabbed my chin, gently directing my gaze his way.
I didn't bother looking at Drew anymore.
We held hands.
We kissed.
I heard Faith Hill playing in the background, and that suited me just fine.
"Do you like dancing?" Chad asked.
I stared at him. "I..."
Me? Honestly? Not a great dancer. But when I opened my mouth, I found myself saying, "Yes. I'd love to."
I'm sure, all throughout this exchange, Drew must have glanced my way a few times, but my back had mostly been facing him, we sat behind the soda machine, and I had that cape on. I suppose, if he had really fallen for that toon girl the way I fell for Chad, he probably thought I wasn't there.
Oh, and maybe using the back hallway to get to the ladies' restroom didn't help matters. I thought I was just being polite. You know, not interfering with Drew's love life.
Anyways, Chad took me by the hand, leading me out to the car.
"If it pleases you," he said as he started up the engine. "We will dance at the Savoy."
I thought to myself, anything we do together would please me, but I instead told him, "I'm sure it will be wonderful!"
"I regret to inform you that there is a dress code. But I have a solution to that."
We drove up the street to a department store in between a chocolatier and a place selling magic rugs...and, ironically, a store called `Magic Rugs' that sold bizarre toupees.
Encounter 0-1-5-4.
I saw a lot of nice suits in that store. I examined several, but I kept getting distracted by watching strange creatures fitting various doodles with...their duds.
The staff included a spider (an orb weaver, no less) that wove suits around you, Yakko and Wakko Warner from the Animaniacs, who stretched a suit to fit a person of any size, and the Hedgehog Sisters from the Animal Crossing video game.
To my surprise and embarrassment, I found Chad leading me up to the fairy godmother from Cinderella.
The cheery old overweight gnome instructed me to remove my cape, and she waved a wand around me, forming a sparkly dark outfit over my underwear.
I'd been dressed in a sexy princess outfit, complete with crown (Incidentally, I didn't care for the crown. A little pretentious. I gave it back).
The dress had a slit up the side, and a plunging neckline, but I supposed it was a little better than my previous semi unclothed state.
Sparkly translucent fabric. If you didn't look too close, I suppose it looked like a regular black dress, but you could still see every seam and outline of my lingerie if you looked close enough. In fact, it kinda felt like I wasn't wearing anything. I mean, I could feel it on my skin, but the texture was incredibly light, like someone decided to make clothing out of lotion.
Still, when I looked at myself in the mirror, I thought I looked stunning, like someone from the Academy Awards.
No...wait. I looked like the chick from the Dragon's Lair video game.
"You look terrific," he breathed over my shoulder.
"Are you sure this is dress code appropriate?"
He patted me lightly on the butt. "You have nothing to worry about,"
"Just make sure you don't wear it after midnight," the old gnome warned. "It has an automatic return function."
I stared at her. "You're kidding."
Chad leaned close to me, whispering in my ear. "Do you really want to wear it any longer than that?"
I swallowed. "I...don't know." I smoothed the material over my legs. "Maybe?"
He pressed himself against me, nuzzling his muzzle against my neck. "Will you be unhappy if it vanishes at midnight?"
My voice came out in a tiny squeak. "No?"
He responded with a rumbly purring sound, then stepped away for a moment, to get fitted with a new suit coat.
A brown hedgehog helped the orb weaver get in place, and in seconds he wore one of a perfect size.
Paying one of the hedgehogs, he slung my cape over his arm, leading me back to our ride.
Encounter 0-1-5-5.
The Savoy is a classy joint.
Both a restaurant and dance hall, fountains, statues and plants everywhere.
Near the entrance a giant statue of Atlas held up the world (Note: Statues did not move or talk), a faun, a centaur, and a large fountain with flying cherubs and dragons.
The floor had beautifully patterned carpeting, brilliant chandeliers. A big band played in the background.
Interesting crowd. Characters from Richie Rich, Scrooge McDuck made an appearance, and even some snooty looking rich people ghosts and extras from one of those Real Ghostbusters cartoons. Anything from the animated upper crust.
When Sinatra's Fly Me to the Moon started up, Chad lead me, dancing, past Mr. Burns and a suited robot, to the middle of the floor.
At first, I giggled as I stared at all the cartoon characters trying to look all serious as they danced with each other, but as I put my hands on Chad's waist and tried not to step on his big feet, staring into his good eye, I serioused up myself. So much so that I bumped into the pirate-like Captain Haddock and his large bosomed opera singer girlfriend. Princess Toadstool wasn't too happy with me, either.
I spotted Holli in a dazzling white gown, but when Chad caught me gawking, he grabbed my chin, directing my eyes his way.
I learned close to Chad as we waltzed back and forth before the band. "Can I asked you something?"
He grunted like a horse and nodded.
"Your eye. What happened to it?"
His eye did that wiggly sparkle thing cartoons always have when they're about to have a flashback. "I was in a knife fight with the leader of a rival gang," he whispered. "His name was Red Rooster, head of the Rojas Reyes, the Red Kings."
I grinned. "So you're a singing gangster."
He gave his head a violent shake. "That life is behind me now. Now I fight under only one banner..."
He raised his fist dramatically. "Love."
His fist relaxed.
It's corny, but hearts were popping out of my clothes.
On impulse, I grabbed his eyepatch, lifting it to look underneath.
As always in cartoons, the scar was an unrealistically tidy looking diagonal slash. He still had an eye, but it was a solid white, with stitches running across it. I felt sorry for him, but it didn't shock or scare me at all. I pressed the patch back in place.
"You are not horrified," he said with some surprise.
"When it happens to noids, it's a lot more gross."
"You still find me handsome?"
"Oh yes. Definitely."
The band now played George Michael.
As we danced, I thought I saw a camera flash, but I ignored it. What were they going to do, blackmail me? Send it to the press? Let them talk!
"Oh lovely flower," my date breathed. "May I drink from the nectar of your perfectly shaped lips?"
More hearts popped out of my clothes, rising like balloons, giving the crowd a flash of thigh, and, once or twice, my posterior. "Only if I can taste yours."
And so we drank each other.
Deeply.
Guess I was thirstier than I thought.
He grabbed my butt, but that was okay. I wanted him to.
I always thought of him doing stuff like that to me, when I was drawing him.
Alone.
In a suite at the Union Plaza.
With my pants off.
Sketchbook propped open between my spread legs.
And I wondered, if he knew I was the artist that drew him, did he also know about all that?
And then, would I mind so much if he did?
Hearing a commotion, I turned my head and saw the cop again, flashing his badge around the front entrance, talking to doodles.
"Sheesh," I muttered as I pulled my lips away from Chad's mouth. "Columbo would find this guy annoying."
"What is a Columbo?" the kangaroo asked.
"Never mind. Let's ditch the cop." I led him behind a statue and kissed him some more.
When our lips broke apart, he leaned close and whispered, "How does this sound, my flower? We dine on the choicest of foods, by candle light, over which you make a decision about whether or not you wish to join me in my chambers this evening."
I giggled nervously. "You really don't mess around, do you?"
Looking super serious, he said, "No."
I giggled some more.
I stopped, getting a little worried. "You know, where I come from, the lady doesn't join a man in his chambers on the first date."
"This isn't where you came from," he said. "And you came to me in your underwear."
I swallowed hard.
"You can decide over our meal," he repeated. "It is fair, no?"
I suddenly felt very hot and uncomfortable. "Yes."
"Then I will show you to your table."
He tugged me by the hand, leading me away from the dance floor.
To dinner.
Where I'd decide.