The Toyminator

14

“Hollywood?” said Eddie Bear. “What does Hollywood mean?”

“Place name, I suppose,” said Jack, a-dusting at his trenchcoat. “This coat is going to need some serious cleaning.”

“Forget the coat!” And Eddie raised his paws. “We are in another world, Jack. This isn’t just the other side of the hill.”

“Seems so.” Jack stretched his shoulders and Jack also yawned, tiredness catching up with him. “But it looks pretty much like the world we just came from – there’s nothing scary here.”

Eddie Bear shuddered and shook his head. “There is something scary, I know it.”

“You don’t know it, Eddie. You’re just disorientated.” Jack sniffed at the air and Jack took off his trenchcoat. “It’s warmer here at least, which is nice.”

Eddie now also sniffed the air and with these sniffs he stiffened. “No, Jack,” he said. “Not nice, not nice at all.”

“You’ve picked up the scent again?”

“Not the scent, Jack. Not the scent.”

“Then what?”

Eddie gave the air another sniffing. “Meatheads, Jack,” he said, and there was fear in his growly voice.

“Men?” said Jack. “Nearby? Where?”

“Everywhere,” said Eddie Bear. “We’re in the world of the meatheads.”

Jack looked back at the Hollywood sign. “The world of the meatheads,” he said.

Now, for those who have an interest in such things as these, it is to be noted that …[20]

For those who do not have an interest in such things, it probably doesn’t matter.

“So what do you think we should do now?” Jack asked.

“Go back,” said Eddie. “Climb through The Second Big O up there and hope it leads back to our own world.”

“Perhaps I put it poorly,” said Jack. “What I meant to say was, now that we are here, to stay, until the job is done, what should we do next?”

Eddie yawned mightily. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” he said, “that there is a vast city down the hill, all lit up in the night. How about us finding somewhere safe and taking a bit of a sleep?”

Jack did further yawnings, too. “Good plan, Mister Bear,” said he.

As going forward was fearsome for Eddie, they tramped back to the Hollywood sign. And from there Jack looked out at the lights of the big city that lay below. And it was (and is) an impressive sight. And Jack was suitably impressed. And behind the sign they located the little hut where the bulb-man who had tended to the lights way back in the nineteen-thirties had spent his illuminating existence.

The door was padlocked, but Jack soon had the padlock picked. The two exhausted detectives crept into the little hut, pulled shut the door and settled down in the darkness upon ancient light-bulb boxes. And in less time than it takes to interpret a Forgotheum conundrum, using as your baseline the Magwich/Holliston Principle, they were both quite fast asleep.

A big smiley sun rose over the Hollywood Hills. It didn’t have a big smiley face like the one that rose over Toy City, but it got the job done and its rays slipped in through the dusty panes of the little old hut and touched upon sleeping faces.

Jack awoke with a yawn and a shudder, blinked and sniffed and clicked his jaw. Hopes that the doings of the previous night had been naught but dreamstuff ebbed all away as Jack surveyed his surroundings.

Man-sized shed with a man-sized door. Man-sized tools hanging on a rack. A pile of what looked to be newspapers tied up with string. “A world of men,” said Jack to himself. “Hardly a nightmare scenario. I grew up in a town inhabited by men and women; Toy City has to be the only city inhabited by toys. Probably everywhere else, no matter on which world, is inhabited by men.” Jack paused for a moment then, before adding, “Except those inhabited by an advanced race of chickens, that would be.” A further pause. “But looking on the bright side, Eddie didn’t smell chickens last night, only men.”

“Talking to yourself again?” asked Eddie, awakening.

“Only time I ever have an intelligent conversation,” said Jack.

“Most amusing.” Eddie now looked all about himself. “Shame,” said he. “As you know, we bears never dream, but I really hoped that I might have dreamed this last night.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing to get alarmed about, Eddie. As I was just saying to myself, I come from a town exclusively inhabited by men.”

“Nice place, was it?” Eddie asked.

“Well,” said Jack.

“Well,” said Eddie, “I seem to recall that you hated it so much that you ran away from it.”

“Which doesn’t mean to say that this Hollywood place won’t be nice. Chin up, Eddie, let’s look on the bright side, eh?”

Eddie’s tummy rumbled. “Breakfast would be nice,” he said. “Perhaps there’s a farm nearby where we could steal some eggs, or something.”

“Steal some eggs? Have you decided to give up detective work and pursue a life of crime?”

“You possess local currency, then?”

“Well.”

Eddie was up now and peeping through the door crack. “Much as I hate to do it, then,” he said, “let’s wander carefully into this world of meatheads and see what there is to be seen.”

“Trust me,” said Jack. “Everything will be fine.”

And so down Mount Lee they went,[21] with Jack whistling brightly in order to disguise his nervousness and Eddie quoting and requoting Jack in his head. “Everything will be fine,” he requoted. “What a load of old toot.”

Eventually they reached a fence, climbed over it and found a road.

“See,” said Jack, “nothing to be worried about.”

“I’ve never had a particular terror of roads,” said Eddie. “You gormster.”

“There are houses here, nice houses,” said Jack. “Should I knock and ask for a glass of milk or something?”

“Let’s head on down,” said Eddie. “We saw all the lights last night – this must be a very big city. Big cities have alleyways, many of them behind restaurants. We’ll just rifle through some bins.”

“I’m not doing that!”

“Well, you make your own arrangements, then. I’m as hungry as.”

It’s a long walk down to LA proper. But you do pass some very nice houses on the way. Homes of the Hollywood stars, they are, although Jack and Eddie weren’t to know this yet.

“These are really swish houses here,” said Jack.

“Probably the homes of the local P.P.P.s.” Eddie peered in through magnificent gates, curlicues of bronze and steel, intricate and delicate, held fast by padlock and chain.

“Ra! Ra! Ra! Ra! Ra!” It was a most excruciating sound, loud and raw and fierce. Something huge slammed against the gate, causing Eddie to fall back in alarm. A monstrous hound yelled further Ras! and snarled with hideous teeth.

“Down, boy,” called Jack. “Nice doggy, down.”

“Run for your life,” howled Eddie.

“It’s all right, it can’t get through the gates.”

“I hate it here, Jack, I hate it.”

They walked along the centre of the road. To either side of them now, growly dogs appeared at padlocked gateways and bid them anything but a warm welcome.

“You don’t think,” said Jack, “that you might have got it all wrong, Eddie? We’re not in Dog World, are we?”

“Gormster.”

And then they had to get off the road and off the road with haste.

“Ba! Ba! Ba! Ba! Ba!” went this scary something.

And then something wonderful rushed by.

Jack looked on and he did so in awe. “An automobile,” he said.

And such an automobile was this. An electric-blue Cadillac Eldorado, circa 1955. Big fins, fabulous tail-lights, all the trimmings. Nice.

“Wow,” went Jack as the Cadillac sped on. “Did you ever see anything quite like that?”

Eddie shook his shaken head. “Did you see the size of it?” he said. “I’ve seen swimming pools smaller than that. And …” And Eddie rubbed at his nose and coughed a little, too. “That wasn’t clockwork, was it, Jack? It had smoke coming out of the back.”

Jack shrugged and Jack said, “Let’s keep moving.”

“I’m hungry.”

“So am I.”

And so they wandered on. But for the Ra-ing dogs and the Ba-ing car they saw no more signs of life.

“Where is everybody?” Eddie asked.

“Sun’s just up,” said Jack. “I suppose it’s early yet.”

“What time do you have on your wristwatch?”

Jack checked his watch, shook it, put it to his ear. “It’s stopped,” he said. “That’s odd, it’s never stopped before, although –”

“Although what?”

“Well, I never understood how it worked anyway – it doesn’t have any insides, just a winder connected to the hands.”

“I thought that was all a watch needed,” said Eddie.

“No,” said Jack, and they wandered on.

And at last reached Hollywood Boulevard.

Eddie looked up and Eddie was afeared. “Jack,” whispered Eddie, “Jack, oh Jack, those are very large buildings.”

“A world of men,” said Jack. “Look – there’s a hotel, what does it say? The Roosevelt.”[22]

Jack looked up with considerable awe. “I love that,” he said.

“I hate it,” said Eddie. “But there is one thing I do know about hotels: they always have a lot of dustbins round the back.”

Now it is a fact well known to those who know it well, and those who know it well do not necessarily harbour a particular interest in the foibles of architects, that the rears of hotels are always rubbish. Which is to say that whilst the front façades display all the architectural splendours that those who commissioned their construction could afford, the rears of the buildings are a proper disgrace. They’re all waste pipes and rusty fire escapes and dustbins, lots of dustbins.

Jack stood in the alleyways to the rear of the Roosevelt, looking up at the waste-pipe outlets and rusty fire escapes; Eddie sniffed his way along the dustbins.

“This one,” said Eddie. “Lid off please, Jack.”

“This is disgusting, Eddie.”

“Look,” said Eddie, “I’m not proud of this sort of thing, but it’s a bear thing, okay? We bears might be noted and admired for our exquisite table manners, but we do like a good old rummage around in a dustbin now and then. You do things that I find abhorrent, okay?”

Jack lifted the dustbin lid. “What things do I do that you find abhorrent?” he asked.

Eddie shinned into the dustbin. “You shag dollies,” he said.

“I … em …” Jack sniffed in Eddie’s direction. There was a rather enticing smell issuing from the dustbin.

“They must have had a big do on last night,” said Eddie. “Look at all this lot.” And he passed Jack an unnibbled cake and a piece of cheese.

“It might smell nice, but I could catch something horrible.”

“Wipe it clean on your trenchcoat … No, on second thoughts …”

There was a remarkably large amount of edible food to be found in that dustbin, and it appeared to have been gift-wrapped in paper napkins and needed next to no wiping off.

Jack had a rumbling stomach, but dined without any joy.

His repast complete, Eddie sat with his back against the dustbin and his paws doing pattings at his swollen belly. “Now that was what I call breakfast,” he said. “I couldn’t eat another thing.”

“Not even this wafer-thin mint?” asked Jack, which rang a bell somewhere.[23]

Jack sat down beside Eddie. “Well, on the bright side,” he said, “and we must always look on the bright side, much as I loathe the idea of dining from dustbins, it looks like we’ll never starve in Hollywood.”

“What the Hell, fella? What d’ya think you’re at?”

Jack looked up in startlement. A ragged man looked down.

If Jack had known anything of the Bible, Jack might have described this man as biblically ragged. He was wild of eye and wild of beard, of which he had more than his share. What face of him was to be seen above the beard and around the eyes was tanned by grime and sunlight. His clothes hung in ribbons; his gnarled hands had horrid yellow nails.

“My Goddamn trashcan!” roared this biblical figure.

“Excuse me?” said Jack, with exaggerated politeness.

“My Goddamn breakfast, you –”

“Sorry,” said Jack, and he rose with some haste to his feet. “We’re new to these parts, we had no idea.”

The biblical figure pushed past him and rootled around in the open bin. “You ate my cake! She said there’d be cake.”

“It was very nice cake,” said Eddie. “I’m not sure what flavour, but very nice nonetheless.”

The biblical figure turned his wild eyes back to Jack. “So,” said he, “a wise guy, is it, making growly voices?”

“No,” said Jack, “I didn’t – that was Eddie.”

“Eddie?” The wild eyes looked wildly about.

“Hello there,” said Eddie. “Pleased to meet you.”

The wild eyes looked down.

The wild eyes widened.

“There is some cake left,” said Eddie. “I tried to eat it all, but I’m ashamed to say that I failed.”

“For the love of God!” The biblical figure fell back against the bin and floundered about like a mad thing. Jack offered what help he could and eased him once more into the vertical plane.

“Get your Goddamn hands off me!”

“Only trying to help,” said Jack.

“Make it do it again, go on.”

“Sorry?” said Jack.

“That little furry thing, make it talk again.”

“I’m not a thing,” said Eddie. “I’m an Anders Imperial, cinnamon plush coat –”

“Holy Baby Jesus!” went the biblical figure, which was suitably biblical but somewhat blasphemous, because you are not supposed to use the name of Jesus in that fashion. “How does it do that? Is it on strings?”

“On strings?” said Eddie. “How dare you.”

“You’re working it somehow.” The wild eyes turned once more upon Jack. “It’s a Goddamn puppet of some kind, ain’t it?”

“Ah,” said Jack, most thoughtfully. “Yes, you’re right, of course.”

“Eh?” said Eddie.

“Knew it.” The biblical figure did a little dance. “Darnedest thing I ever saw. How much do you want for it?”

“He’s not for sale,” said Jack. “He has, er, sentimental value.”

“Eh?” said Eddie, once again.

“Shush,” said Jack to Eddie.

The ragged man knelt down before Eddie. “Cute little critter, ain’t he?” he said. “Though real ragged and he don’t smell too good.”

“That’s good, coming from you,” said Eddie, shielding his nostrils.

“Darnedest thing.” And the ragged fellow rose and did another dance.

“Well, nice as it was to meet you,” said Jack, “and sorry as we are about eating your breakfast, being unaccustomed to, er, trashcan protocol in this vicinity –”

“Eh?” now went the ragged man.

“We must be moving along,” said Jack. “We’re –”

“Carny folk,” said the ragged man. “Don’t tell me, let me guess from your accent. English, is it? Carny man from England, I’ll bet.”

“English carny man?” said Jack slowly.

“Here with the circus. I’ll bet this is one big midway attraction.”

“That’s right,” said Jack. “And we, er, I’m an English carny man and I should be on my way.”

“Can’t let you do that, buddy.”

“Sorry,” said Jack, “but I must.”

“Nope. I can’t let you do that.” And from a ragged pocket the ragged fellow pulled a knife. And it was a big one and it looked sharp.

“Now see here,” said Jack, which is what folk always say first under such circumstances.

“You ate my breakfast – you owe me, buddy. I’ll take your furry thing here in payment.”

“No,” Jack said. “You will not.”

The knife was suddenly very near Jack. What sunlight the alleyway gathered fell on its polished blade.

“You don’t really want to do that,” Jack said, which is another thing folk say in such circumstances – the brave, tough ones, anyway.

“Don’t I really?” The gnarled hand flicked the blade before Jack’s eyes.

“No,” said Jack, “you don’t. Because if you do not put that knife away at once, I will have no option other than to blow your balls off.”

“Jack, really,” said Eddie.

The ragged man did wild-eyed glancings downwards.

Jack held a pistol, aimed at the ragged man’s groin.

“Now what the Hell do you call that?”

“It’s a gun,” said Jack. “Perhaps you’ve not seen one before.”

“I’ve seen plenty o’ guns, fella, but that ain’t a real one – that one’s a toy.”

“It will cause you considerable damage at this close range,” said Jack.

“Oh yeah? What’s it gonna do, hit me with a little flag with ‘BANG’ written on it?”

“It does this,” said Jack, and he aimed the gun into the air and pulled the trigger.

And nothing happened.

Jack squeezed the trigger once more and then once again. Nothing else happened either.

“That’s odd,” said Jack, examining the pistol.

“Ain’t it just!” And the knife’s blade flashed once more before Jack’s face. “Hand me the puppet or I’ll cut ya deep.”

“But you don’t understand –”

“I understand this.” And the knife went up. And the knife went down. And the knife fell into the alleyway. And the wild eyes of the biblical figure crossed and then they closed and the figure fell to the ground.

Eddie Bear stood on the dustbin, holding between his paws the dustbin lid.

“Nice shot,” said Jack. “Right on the back of his head.”

“His conversation tired me,” said Eddie. “What a most unpleasant man.”

Jack took the lid and helped Eddie down. Eddie went over and bit the ragged man on the nose.

Jack said, “Don’t do that.”

“I think we had best be on our way,” said Eddie. “I’ll just bet they have policemen in this city too and I don’t think I want to meet them.”

Jack shook his pistol about. “This is really odd,” he said. “First the wristwatch, now this pistol. I wonder.” Jack pulled a grenade from his pocket and removed the pin.

“No, not here,” said Eddie.

“I just want to test a proposition.” Jack hurled the grenade and ducked. And Jack counted, too, up to twenty.

“Doesn’t work,” said Jack. And he pulled out his remaining weaponry from his pockets and tested it, too. And none of that worked either.

“This I find worrying,” Jack said, and Eddie agreed.

Eddie tested the gun that he had, and as this didn’t work either he tossed it away. “We’ll be in trouble when we finally track down our other selves,” he said. Miserably.

“Well,” said Jack, “looking on the bright side once again, given that amazing automobile we saw, I’ll just bet they have some really amazing weapons here.”

“Well, that we already know,” said Eddie. “Don’t we? The death rays and everything.”

“If they come from here,” said Jack. “Perhaps they came from Chicken World.”

The ragged man made moaning sounds.

“Time to go,” said Eddie.

They reached the end of the alleyway and looked out at the world beyond, the world of men. And men were moving now, out and about on Hollywood Boulevard. Well-dressed men and women, too. The men wore fedoras and double-breasted wide-shouldered suits. The women wore colourful dresses; they looked most appealing to Jack.

“Now, Eddie,” said Jack to the bear, “I don’t want you to take offence at this, but I think it would be better if I carried you. It would appear that in these parts talking bears are the exception rather than the rule.”

“I’d gathered that,” said Eddie. “I’m not stupid, you know. I’m as intelligent as.”

“Then if you’ll pardon me,” said Jack, “I’ll carry you, Mister Bear.”

And so Jack carried Eddie along the boulevard.

And what Jack saw he marvelled at. And not without good cause. The bright storefronts displayed wondrous things, things all new to Jack, although not perhaps new – different, maybe.

There were electrical stores, their windows filled with radio sets and televisions and record players and washing machines, but all of a style unknown to Jack, as were the garments in the clothes stores. Jack lingered long before a trenchcoat shop. Eddie urged him on.

“Low profile,” whispered Jack. “Please behave yourself.”

And soon Jack stood before Mann’s.[24]

Jack looked up in awe beyond awe.

Then Jack looked down at the pavement.

“Handprints,” he said to Eddie, and he set the bear down and he gazed upon them. “Clark Gable,” whispered Jack. “Shirley Temple, the Marx Brothers – I wonder what this is all about.”

“They’re movie stars, of course.” The voice was the sweetest of voices, and it issued from the sweetest of lips.

Jack looked up at the speaker. A pretty girl looked down.

She wore a colourful dress that reached to her knees, beneath which rather shapely legs reached down to elegant shoes.

Jack’s eyes lingered on these legs before moving up, with some deliberation, to view the pretty face of the speaker. It was that of a flame-haired beauty with stunning green eyes. A girl who was roughly Jack’s age.

“Movie stars?” said Jack.

“Of course. What did you think they were?”

Jack rose slowly to his feet. He did not possess the nose of Eddie, but this girl smelled beautiful and Jack drew in her fragrance.

“You’re sniffing me,” said the pretty girl. “I don’t think that’s very nice.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Jack. “If I was rude, will you please forgive me?”

“It doesn’t matter, you’re funny.”

“Am I … I …”

“My name is Dorothy,” said Dorothy. “I’m from Kansas. Where are you from?”

“England?” Jack suggested.

“I knew it,” said Dorothy. “I recognised your accent at once. England is so romantic. Do you know the Queen?”

“Oh yes,” said Jack. “Very well.”

“And do you wear a bowler hat and take your tea at three?”

“Every day,” said Jack. “With the Queen, naturally.”

Eddie made a growling noise.

Dorothy looked down. “What a sweet little bear,” she said. “Is it yours?”

“Mine,” said Jack. “His name is Eddie.”

“Eddie Bear, how cute. Might I pick him up and give him a cuddle?”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” said Jack. “He’s a bit smelly.”

“You’re a bit smelly, too,” said Dorothy. “You smell of poo.”

“An unfortunate incident,” said Jack, “but in the line of business. My name is Jack, by the way, and I’m a detective.”

“A detective, how exciting.” And Dorothy put out her hand and Jack most gently shook it.

“I’m an actress,” said Dorothy. “Or will be, as soon as I’m discovered.”

“Discovered?” Jack asked.

“By an agent. I’ve got my publicity shots, and I’ve been around to lots of agents, but they’re not very nice. They want you to do … things.” Dorothy cast down her eyes.

Jack felt he could imagine what things. “And so these are the handprints of famous movie stars?” he said.

“Yes,” said Dorothy. “And mine will be here one day. Once I’m discovered.”

“You’re a very beautiful girl,” said Jack. “I’m sure someone will discover you soon.”

“I hope so. I don’t like what I’m doing now.”

“What, talking to me?”

“No, I have to work as a kitchen maid in the hotel just up the road. The Roosevelt.”

“Ah,” said Jack.

“It’s very hard work, but at least it allows me to do a bit of good.”

“In the kitchen?”

“Well, not really in the kitchen. I package up all the leftover food that the rich people don’t eat and leave it in the trashcan outside for the homeless. There’s a poor old man who lives in the alley – the scraps I leave are his only food.”

“Ah,” said Jack once again.

“But I will be discovered. And when I am, and when I’m wealthy, I’ll feed as many of those poor souls as I can.”

“That’s a very wonderful thing to say,” said Jack. “You are a beautiful person.”

“But tell me about you,” said Dorothy. “You’re a detective. That must be very exciting. Do you catch a lot of criminals? Did they send you over from England on a special case? Are you working for the Queen, or is it the President?”

“Well,” said Jack.

And Eddie growled again.

“It’s been lovely to meet you,” said Jack, “but we, that is, I have to be going.”

“Won’t you stay for just a little longer, have a cup of coffee?”

“I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t have any money.”

“It’s only a cup of coffee, I’ll pay.”

“No, I couldn’t, really.”

“Oh please, it will be my treat and you can tell me all about England.”

“Well,” said Jack.

And Dorothy smiled upon him.

“Just one cup,” said Jack, and he gathered up Eddie.

And then Jack strolled along Hollywood Boulevard. And he felt rather good, did Jack. Rather “Top of the world, Ma”, as it happened. The sun shone down and here was he, with a beautiful girl on his arm. And as Jack walked on, smelly as he was, he caught the occasional envious glance from a young male passer-by.

“Now this is the life,” thought Jack to himself. “I could make a home in this place. Perhaps I could set myself up as a private detective, and take a wife, perhaps a wife who was a movie star. Yes, this is the life. I really love this place.”

“We’re here,” said Dorothy. “This is it.”

And Jack looked up and said, “Ah.”

They stood before the Golden Chicken Diner. It was a symphony of chrome and neon. A neon chicken on high flashed on and off, in profile, pecking up and down.

“It’s one of a growing chain,” said Dorothy. “They’re springing up everywhere. The chicken burgers are very popular and the coffee is good, but cheap.”

“Right,” said Jack. “It looks wonderful. Let’s go inside.”

And then Jack stopped. And then Jack stared. And then Jack said, “Oh no!”

And Dorothy looked at Jack, who now stared wide-eyed. And she watched as Jack took Eddie from under his arm and held him up before his chest.

And Eddie stared and saw what Jack saw, and Eddie Bear mouthed, “No!”

In the front window of the Golden Chicken Diner there was a garish sign. It was a big garish sign and it advertised the fare on sale.

But not only did it advertise this, it also advertised something else. It advertised special offers and what came free with these.

COLLECT ’EM ALL (said this garish sign)

FREE WITH EVERY FAMILY SPECIAL

A CLOCKWORK CLAPPINGMONKEY or

A CLOCKWORK BAND MEMBER or

A CLOCKWORK ORCHESTRA MUSICIAN

AND COMING SOON

LAUGHING POLICEMEN

AN ENTIRE SET OF TOY TOWN FIGURES

INCLUDING

TINTO THE CLOCKWORK BARMAN

AND

EDDIE THE CUDDLY BEAR