Chapter 13 – The Plans

Morning at the Crystal Estate had its quiet atmosphere briefly interrupted when the Moon Mobile arrived to drop Gunter off on the way to the theater. Gunter reassured his friends once again that's he'd be okay. With some reluctance, they relented, replying with forced smiles and good luck wishes.

Gunter hopped out of the SUV, sporting a fresh fuchsia tracksuit and a binder choked to the brim with the deluge of ideas that refused to stay in his brain. He strode up to the front doors of the manor as his friends cautiously drove away. Faced with the grand doors to the home of his troupe's ex-nemesis, Gunter knocked with a silly rhythm.

"It is me!" he announced. "Gunter!"

After a few moments, the door opened and Gunter was surprised to find Jimmy in the doorway, wearing a posh black robe trimmed in gold. Despite its simplicity in design, Gunter was sure that robe cost more than his entire wardrobe.

"What's shakin', bacon?" Jimmy said.

Gunter's wary eyes betrayed his smile. "Haha, you have... ze majorly wicked sense of humor, Mr. Crystal."

"So I've been told." Jimmy eyed the binder. "Is that for me?"

Gunter thrust the binder into the air as if showing it off the whole world. "I couldn't stop writing my ideas!"

"How many did you write?"

"All of zem!"

Jimmy's eyes lit up. "Yeah! That's what I'm talking about. Come on into my office. Let's talk business."

Gunter followed the wolf inside and through the corridors, unable to stifle his constant oohing and aahing at the art fixtures and glimpses into other rooms.

"Normally I'd roll out the red carpet and shower my business partners in the finest things," Jimmy said. "You know, the whole shaboodle! But I'm sure you understand that my circumstances are a bit different now."

"Zat's okay. Your home is like, totally amazing and super expensive."

"It is, isn't it?"

They reached Jimmy's personal office, a cozy room with a fireplace but still dripping in affluence and a smattering of art bearing the wolf's likeness. Jimmy took a seat and leaned into the back of his cushy chair behind his desk for only a second before sitting up in annoyance.

"Jerry! Get us some coffee!"

"Yes, sir!" Jerry cried from down the hallway.

"You like coffee?"

Gunter took the seat across from him. "I am much in preference of tea."

"Get us some tea too!" Jimmy hollered. "Actually, get us anything worth drinking! We might be here for a while, got that?"

Jerry popped into the room. "Yes, sir! My pleasure, sir!" He was gone in a blur of fur.

Jimmy cleared space on his desk before watching Gunter expectantly. "Now, show me what you've got. Lay it on me."

Gunter slapped the heavy binder onto the desk with an audible thud and flipped it open to reveal a neatly arranged rainbow of pages. After being hired as Jimmy's Chief Creative Specialist, Gunter took calls from his second boss that saw a glut of ideas refined into the concept of a reality TV show, a show that Jimmy could participate in with the caveat that there was a role for Porsha too. Jimmy told him that running Crystal Entertainment is why he turned down previous offers for a reality TV show. Gunter knew that one of the unstated goals of their potential show was to repair Jimmy's ego. He didn't mind; it gave him a much-needed opportunity to flex his creative chops and help Porsha spend more time with her father like she always wanted.

Flipping to the purple section of the binder, Gunter began excitedly rattling off ideas from the pages. "So what if, like, we did a survival show... in space!"

"Space?" Jimmy repeated. The wolf's stony expression worried Gunter.

"Maybe not just space. Oh, how about a base! On ze moon! Low gravity!"

Jimmy's brows lowered.

"Mars?" Gunter said with a nervous chuckle. He didn't wait for a response, realizing he was rapidly losing favor with Jimmy. He started flipping through the pages but let out a shrill yelp when Jimmy's hand came down on top of them.

"Look," Jimmy said, "I realize I'm the wealthiest person you will ever know, but the logistics of a reality show in space don't work. It's impossible. And don't give me anything about fake or simulated space shows either. Reality TV works because the public wants to buy into what's being sold. You give them a location they already know is fake and the illusion starts to fall apart. You can squeeze thirty-odd seasons out of some random losers living in a house. How many successful shows you heard of where people pretend to live on Mars?"

"No space," Gunter murmured, feeling his heart shrivel up.

With a click, Gunter opened the rings of the binder and gingerly removed the entire swath of purple pages. He was greeted with the blue pages next.

"No underwater too?" he asked. The disgusted groan was all the reply he needed to remove the blue pages too. In less than ten minutes, he'd already lost two colors of his rainbow.

"You're letting me down, Gunter," Jimmy growled. "That's not something you want to do."

"I'm sorry Mr. Crystal. I know you like ze big ideas but sometimes Mr. Moon says zat my imagination needs to be rained on."

"Did you mean reined in? It's rare but Moon might have a point. Give me something doable and maybe we can punch it up from there."

Gunter skipped the rest of the colors and went to the section farthest back in his binder: the boring old white pages. He never considered these a last resort, and yet here they were. Jimmy was burrowed back in his chair, eyes closed, massaging the bridge of his snout. Gunter knew he could win him over. He had to prove that Out of This World wasn't a fluke.

"How about a competition... a papa and daughter competition..."

Jimmy perked up. "You got my attention..."

"You and Porsha... versus other papas and their daughters! Famous ones! And not so famous ones! And fun challenges."

"What kind of challenges?"

Gunter's eyes darted just as wildly as his reaching for ideas before they settled on the binder. "Here! We take some of my ideas and turn zem into crrrrrazy challenges!"

"I'm liking this. A bunch of wild and creative ideas should keep the audience guessing every episode."

"And... and whoever has ze most points at ze end gets crowned ultimate papa and daughter! With a trophy and a totally amazing ceremony!"

Gunter knew he struck gold when Jimmy launched out of his seat, fist clenched, fur standing in excitement. "Yeah! Once I get crowned Ultimate Girldad, all those losers that said I was a bad father will have to eat their words! It was on TV! This is where my comeback starts!"

"Uh, jah..."

"Jerry!"

His name had barely left Jimmy's maw before the feline scurried into the room, his fur frazzled, while delicately balancing a tray filled with various drinks. Jerry set the tray down on a side table and nearly had a heart attack after doing an inventory check.

"Oh, no!" he gasped. "I forgot the water!"

"Forget about that," Jimmy said. "Jerry, I need you to call Echelon Studios to set up a pitch meeting. Piggly Wiggly here delivered the goods."

Jerry hesitated. "Sir... not that I'm questioning your judgment. I would never do that! But wouldn't Crystal Entertainment be an easier sell? It's a known quantity and—"

"Absolutely not. You think I'm gonna let Cassidy stick some plants on the production and in the crew? Set me up to look bad on my own show? Echelon Studios is a fresh start with none of the drama. You've been making some bad choices lately, Jerry. Make a good choice for once and do what I tell you to do."

"Yes, sir. I'm very sorry sir."

Gunter gave Jerry a sympathetic look as the cat slunk out of the office

"And you!" Jimmy said suddenly, startling Gunter. "I need you to get to work on turning all these ideas into competitive challenges. Make sure they're challenges I can actually win. Oh, and they should be able to fit on a cue card. Make 'em snappy, to the point, and easy to understand. I'm the main draw, obviously, but the suits at Echelon are gonna want to know how the show works, and I need you to sell them on your creativity."

"You want me to be in ze pitch meeting?"

"Of course. You're my CCS—Chief Creative Specialist, aren't ya?" Jimmy picked up his gold-plated phone. "I should call Porsha and give her the news. She's always wanted to be on TV. Hey, this won't be a problem with Moon, right? He can spare his idea guy for this?"

"No, no problem... I'm... available."

Jimmy's ears twitched. The normally jovial pig's goofy voice barely masked the layers of trepidation beneath. Contrary to popular belief, Jimmy wasn't oblivious to other's feelings—he just got really good at ignoring them. Feelings were messy, and he could barely manage his own.

But something gave him pause, forced him to face what was in front of him. He remembered the empathy worksheet Maxine gave him. Something about active listening. Did he want to listen to Gunter? He definitely didn't want to walk back into his therapist's office and admit that he never even tried the empathy thing.

"What's the matter? You just came up with a TV show full of your ideas. If this works out, millions of people all over the world will see something you helped create. You should be dancing on the desk right now." The image filled Jimmy's head and he reconsidered his words. "Figuratively. Don't ever put your hooves on my furniture."

"It's... not somezing you should be worrying about," Gunter tried to assure him, which didn't work when half of the sentence came out in a pitchy whine.

Jimmy set his phone down. There was no getting out of this one.

"Get us the tea. Go on," Jimmy ordered. Somehow, eyes distant and body bereft of life, Gunter obliged, pouring two cups of tea on the tray and bringing them back over to the desk.

After taking a generous gulp of tea, Jimmy asked, "Alright, what's going on?"

Gunter sat there in silence, his existence compressed as he held himself. Jimmy started to wonder if he shut down entirely when Gunter suddenly whispered, "Nana Noodleman knows Clay Calloway."

"I'm not surprised. She has to be a thousand years old by now." Jimmy cracked a smile at his own joke. "But I don't follow. Where's the problem?"

"I told Mr. Moon many times my idea for a super spectacular space musical. Before ze bus. After. He didn't take me seriously at all."

"That's dumb. You're his idea guy. Why wouldn't he..." Jimmy felt the pieces start to fall into place. "Wait, you're tellin' me... you're not his idea guy? So that last second pitch about Clay Calloway was an even bigger Hail Mary than I thought."

Gunter shook his head. "I never wanted to be lying to you about Clay. If Mr. Moon listened to me..."

"Ah... I see. If Moon went with your idea from the beginning, you could've used Noodleman's connection to Calloway to get him on board. You would've had a legit show before you ever showed up in my auditorium. You know, the way a professional actually does business. What about his next show? You working with him on that?"

"He didn't ask me."

"I don't get it. Why are you even part of his little troupe? Don't look at me like that, I'm not conspiring against Moon. I don't really care who he works with. All I'm saying is, you can't sing, and I guess what you do can be called dancing—I'm not being mean, I've seen the show, just stating facts—and nobody listens to your ideas even though you gave Moon the biggest win of his career. You see what I'm getting at?"

"Zey don't appreciate me?"

"Not for the right reasons. You talk funny and you move funny. You know why they keep you around? You're the comic relief. The funny loser. Every court needs its jester. Every class has a clown. Even on their worst days, they can always look at you and think, 'at least I'm not that guy.'"

"I am not a loser!" Gunter protested in a quivering voice.

"Whoa, whoa. Untie those panties. That's not my opinion. You wouldn't be here if I thought you were a loser. My therapist, she has me doing these empathy exercises. I put myself in your shoes, and that's how I'd feel if that were me. All I can see is a lack of respect in how your so-called friends treat you. How'd you even end up with them, anyway?"

"I saw ze flyer for a singing competition right after I got fired from my last job. Somezing about cannibals. Big stink."

"Wait, you can't just drop cannibals into the conversation and not elaborate. Did you work for them?"

"No, no. I was chef in a restaurant! Zey zought I was ze cannibal."

"You worked in a restaurant?"

"Jah! Ziss was after I try flying ze helicopter."

Jimmy nearly spit out his tea. "You're a pilot!?"

Gunter shrugged. "I have training but... zey never gave me a license!"

"Huh. You're an interesting little guy. I think I want to hear more."

"I have many jobs since moving to ziss country."

"Alright, but first you have to tell me more about this cannibal business. You're not a cannibal, right?"

"Me? Cannibal? I laugh!" Gunter said, followed by an exaggerated, "Ha!"

Jimmy chuckled but then his face went stone-cold. "Okay, but seriously."

"Congratulations!" Rosita said, hugging Gunter. "Our Gunter, creating TV."

When Gunter returned to the theater, the first reaction from his friends was of relief to see him back in one piece. The extra bounce in the pig's gait confirmed that the meeting went over well.

Buster let out a content sigh. "It's like I say. Dream big dreams."

"So this is really happening?" Ryan asked. "You do TV now? How'd you get Crystal on board?"

Gunter tapped his binder of ideas confidently before recounting his meeting with Jimmy with excited, dance-like exuberance. "At first Crystal was like 'lay it on me' but zen he was like 'you don't want to let me down' but zen he said 'Piggly Wiggly delivered ze goods!'"

Rosita was sightly taken aback. "He called you Piggly Wiggly?"

"Jah, and bacon, too!"

"I guess there are worse nicknames," Eddie said. "He called me Lambchop. Can you believe that? Lambchop!"

Gunter swayed about dreamily. "My favorite of all ze nicknames is CCS—Chief Creative Specialist! He wants me to pitch ze show with him!"

Buster patted the pig's shoulder. "You're doing a pitch meeting? That's great, but don't forget you have a prior commitment to this troupe."

"Don't worry! I can manage!"

"Alright, but just remember... Crystal can treat you like royalty when you're on his good side, but things can get ugly really quickly."

"I did not trick him so I should be fine!" Gunter chirped.

Despite the pig's cheeriness, Buster felt like he'd just taken a right hook. He laughed it off.

"Since everyone is here, we can start the presentation on what comes next for us," he said. "Keep in mind, these shows are still works in progress. Ideas are in flux and roles are still being developed, but Aiden and I have enough of a premise to share with you all today." He turned to the lemur. "You want to go first?"

"No, you go first," Aiden replied. "Let's save the best for last."

"Right," Buster said, matching Aiden's smirk. "Miss Crawly, Porsha, would you please?"

Miss Crawly brought in and unfolded an easel stand. Porsha completed the setup with a tarp-covered portrait. Buster took his place in front of the easel and cleared his throat.

"It's become apparent that rival theaters have been moved and, well... inspired by Out of This World. While they're doubling down on the idea of a space odyssey, I think we should do the opposite for our next show. Something a little bit more down-to-earth."

Buster crouched forward, bent his hands into claws, and dropped his voice to a sinister growl. "Imagine, if you will, a world right beneath our noses. A world of darkness and intrigue, of danger and adventure, navigated by a man whose devilishly good looks masks his undead origins. A man who fights the urges that created him, and wants to be seen for who he is and not what he is. And our leading man is..."

Buster ripped the tarp away from the portrait to great dramatic effect, revealing concept art of a smartly dressed individual navigating misty streets aglow with moonlight, his fanged face bearing great resemblance to...

"Johnny!"

"Congrats," Ash said as everyone applauded the announcement.

Johnny absorbed the news with mixed emotions. "Vampires… that's a bit stale, innit?"

Ryan came up from behind and gave Johnny's shoulders a good shake. "What? I think you'd make a badass vampire."

"Yeah!" Nooshy added, elbowing Johnny's side. "Vampires have to have charisma or people won't get close to them. I think you got plenty to spare, mate."

Johnny fought back his incoming blush. "Maybe not that stale after all. But no sparkling in the sun, yeah?"

"Don't worry, Johnny," Buster said. "I promise these vampires don't sparkle."

"Oh, oh!" Gunter squealed. "Do zese vampires ride ze motorcycles?"

"Vampires on motorcycles?" Clay pondered. "That ain't a bad idea."

"I've never ridden a motorcycle before," Johnny admitted.

"I could teach ya," Clay told him with a wink.

Johnny suppressed a childlike giggle. "Learning how to ride a motorcycle from Clay Calloway? I'm liking this show already."

"Sounds like Motorcycle Vampires might be our next big hit," Ash said.

"First, it's not called Motorcycle Vampires," Buster stressed. "Second, I haven't even confirmed any motorcycles in the story." Buster could see the enthusiasm rapidly waning in his troupe. "But... the show is still in early development, so I'm not... disconfirming... it either," he said with some strain in his voice.

Gunter jumped for joy. "Motorcycle Vampires is back on, baby!"

With a quick sigh, Buster gave up that battle. "Aiden, the floor is yours."

Miss Crawly moved the easel and replaced it with a small desk. Porsha handed Aiden his shoulder bag. He fished his laptop out of it and placed it on the desk but didn't open it, pausing for dramatic effect.

"What's the biggest threat to our existence right now?" he asked.

"Shrinkflation?" Ash answered after thinking for a moment. "Seriously, have you bought a bag of chips lately? It's like seventy-five percent air in there."

"I know what you mean," Rosita chimed in. "I bought some jars of cheese puffs for the piglets the other day and there was this indentation in the bottom. The jars looked the same as always but there was actually less space inside."

"They're tricky like that," Nooshy said. "You gotta pay attention to the weight on the labels or won't know the difference until it's too late."

"Zat should be illegal!" Gunter complained.

"Climate change!" Aiden shouted. "It's climate change. We are killing our world and it's crying out to us." A morose silence blanketed the cast with the weight of the subject.

"I was walking through the park a few months ago and had a funny thought," Aiden said, rubbing the surface of the laptop thoughtfully. "What if nature could speak to us? What if the trees and the rivers and the wind could communicate with us, tell us what they need of us, warn us how to stop hurting our environment? The thought never left me and it turned into this."

Aiden opened the laptop. "Don't judge me too harshly, I sorta whipped this together in a hurry."

A crush of bodies gathered around to see the presentation. Buster hopped from his tippy toes, desperate for a good look until Clay gave him a lift. A 3D animation played on the laptop, swooping down a beautiful valley. It stopped in a tranquil garden rich with flora, so bright and pure it appeared otherworldly. A true tapestry of life.

Ryan gawked at the screen. "You made this?"

"Yep. This is the main location of our story. It's called the Valley of Eternity, which I'm thinking of naming the show. It's where all of nature and life converges. Here, the spirits of Air, Flames, Water and Earth regularly meet, led by the mother spirit herself, Nature. And I can't think of anyone better to play this leading role than Meena."

Meena's gasp was drowned out by the cheers and applause that followed. "Me? Lead?"

"Way to go, Meena!"

"Wait until Alphonso hears about this!"

Aiden pressed a key on the laptop and an image of an elephant appeared in the center of the garden. She was adorned with a dress woven of cascading leaves and flowers, her head crowned in robust peonies. In her hand was a staff topped with a shimmering blue orb resembling the Earth itself.

Meena reached out and nearly touched the screen. "She's beautiful."

"Our story begins when, for the first time ever, a mortal enters the valley," Aiden said. "The spirits test them to see if mortals are worthy of inheriting the Earth, or if we're doomed to destroy it."

"Not pulling any punches," Ash said. "I like a story with a strong message."

Those were the last words Meena heard clearly. Her anxiety piqued, and she experienced time dilation that turned everything around her into a speedy blur. Before she knew it, Aiden finished his presentation and everyone began preparing for that night's show. Meena got enough of a grip on herself to follow Aiden and approached him once they were alone.

She found him putting his laptop back into his shoulder bag. He became aware of her existence when her large figure shadowed over him, and it reminded Meena how she sometimes hated her size and how she could unintentionally intimidate others.

"Mr. Toliver?"

"Mr. Toliver...?" Aiden repeated in bewilderment, then nearly shuddered. "Way to make a guy feel ancient. You don't have to call me that."

"Sorry. Mr. Aiden," Meena corrected herself. Aiden was still a bit annoyed but let her continue. "I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I don't think I can do this role."

"What? You haven't even seen a script!"

"It's just... I have these issues with stage fright and performing in front of other people. I thought I'd be over it by now, but something Mr. Calloway said makes it seem like this is something I'll always have to deal with. I just don't want to ruin your chance at getting a big show."

"Weren't you lead when Buster did Alice in Wonderland? What changed?"

"T-that... that was different. We were back home, in the New Moon Theater, and... and... I-I love that book... I just think Rosita would be a much better choice for your show."

"Rosita definitely has some acting chops, but now that I've seen Out of This World, I can say without a doubt that your voice blows hers out of the water. Those booming vocals are a big part of Nature's character."

"I'm sorry. Maybe I'll try to get lead on the show after this one..."

Aiden hummed as he scrutinized Meena and considered the situation. After a minute, he said, "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, but I really do think you can pull this off. I've been around the block a bit longer than you have, so let me give you some advice: the next show isn't guaranteed. And even if you get another shot, there's no telling what form that show will take."

"I-I'll keep that in mind," Meena responded. There was one thing she knew, and that was that she needed to talk with Alphonso.

After another night of hard earned applause and accolades, and once all the patrons cleared out of the theater, the cast made plans to finish the day off with a movie night. When Buster noticed Aiden wasn't backstage with them, he went off to look for him, and discovered him in the lobby of the theater on the way back to the hotel.

"Aiden, wait!" Buster called out. Aiden turned, bag strapped around his shoulder, and waited for Buster catch up. "We're all getting together at the villa for movie night. You should join us!"

Aiden bobbed his head around in an exaggerated motion. "Hmm... burnt popcorn and a crummy movie, or a hot stone massage and the finest dinner room service can deliver."

"All right, but don't be a stranger." Buster watched the lemur begin to leave and felt a sudden compulsion. "Wait! I did want to ask you something. So what do you think about the show?"

"Motorcyle Vampires? It's a bit early to judge, don't you think?"

"It's not called... ugh, whatever. But no, I meant Out of This World. You've gotten to see it now that Roxy is filling in for Porsha, but you never really gave me any feedback. C'mon, we go way back! I know you've got an opinion. Remember those peer reviews we had to do back in school?"

Aiden studied Buster, trying to determine if the koala was serious. "Are you sure? You want me to be honest?"

"Uh oh... getting some deja vu here."

"It's shallow as a kiddie pool."

"What?"

Sighing, Aiden set down his shoulder bag, as if he were about to pick up an entirely new load. "There's no narrative tissue whatsoever. Maybe it's because it was literally written within hours and under duress, but it's like a random series of vignettes. Someone comes out, they do a song and a dance, then they're gone. Why? What's the point? I see the spectacle but I don't see the purpose. There's nothing there."

"But people love the show! We got Crystal to greenlight it based on the concept alone."

"Of course he did! He's a capitalist. All he cares about is if it sounds like something that'll get butts in seats, not any artistic merit. Clay Calloway guaranteed that."

"I don't think that's entirely true. We did a song for Crystal during the pitch. He had a genuine smile on his face hearing it. Maybe the only one I've ever seen from him."

"Wow, that's odd. You managed a genuine connection with a guy most people think is incapable of one, then conned him anyway," Aiden said. Buster's sudden grimace was enough for Aiden to back off. "I'm getting away from a my point, sorta. It's called performing arts for a reason. What's the message in the art, Buster? A good way to rebuild your reputation around here is to connect with people on a deeper level."

"I forgot how blunt your feedback can be."

"I prefer sharp. Some critique beats around the bush. Mine gets to the point. You're not going to hold this against me, are you? You asked for my opinion. It wouldn't do you any good if I lied."

"I didn't expect a verbal takedown. You have any other words of wisdom for me?"

"Actually, I do. You're wasting Clay Calloway. Having him come out at the end to do one of his songs makes sense if this was a surprise but this was supposed to be his big comeback. I think he can do much more. You've got a legend working for you. You should use Calloway to elevate your show instead of punctuating the end of it."

Aiden strapped his bag around his shoulder again. "It's great that you have a lot of attention on your work. A lot of people would die to be in your position. But what are you trying to convey with your platform? Think about it, Buster."

Once Aiden was gone, Buster started a sluggish trip back to the theater, walking as if his body was held down by invisible weights. To his surprise, Eddie was leaning against a wall next to some crystal shrubbery.

"You heard all that?" Buster asked.

"Yup," Eddie replied flatly.

"Do you think he's right? Is the show shallow?"

Eddie shrugged.

"You don't think he's jealous, do you? Covering up his feelings with harsh criticism."

"No comment."

Buster did a double take. "What's with you tonight?"

"I was very recently accused of being a hater. I'm trying to prove that I'm not. It doesn't really matter what I think, anyway. What matters is how you feel."

Buster stood straight, his ears bouncing, a crook of a smile on his face. "I feel... like I'm going to assume the best intentions and try to get something useful out of his criticism. Let's go! That popcorn's not going to burn itself!"

Eddie watched Buster jog back toward the theater, feeling both bewildered and amused. "We've been besties for years and I still don't understand how you do that. Just pick yourself up after any kind of adversity."

A/N

So the Gunter helicopter thing... there was a promo for Sing 2 where all the characters were racing to the theater to watch the movie and Gunter was flying a helicopter (with Porsha riding shotgun) and I feel like I'm the only one asking questions. How? Why? Because his backstory is blank, I sorta worked that in there as part of him having a ton of odd jobs over the years before he found his true calling in the first movie.