The Toyminator

  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.*

  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.*

  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. Rath
er ‘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 CLAPPING MONKEY 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

  15

  When Jack could find his voice he whispered, ‘What does it mean, Eddie, what?’

  Eddie just stared and Dorothy said, ‘What is the matter, Jack?’