ToonZ - The Gift of Christmas chp 7

Mickey held up a pack of papers and flipped through them as he walked towards his group. “Okay, so you guys know what you’ll be doin’,” he said, stopping next to the gang. “These are just scripts to show you guys where you’ll be at certain points in the music.” He handed everyone at least six sheets each before placing his hands on his hips. “There won’t be any verbal exchange between you and the Looney Tunes, so at least try to respect where you set your feet down.”

Goofy flipped through his papers before scratching his head. “So, no talkin’ right?” he said. “I mean, I ain’t have a problem if I need tah say a few lines, Mickey—!”

“Bugs and I thought it would be better—and safer—if no one spoke to each other, Goof,” Mickey replied. “I know you and Porky tend to be alright with most situations, but there are some of us—!” He frowned at Donald here for a moment, “—who can’t stand the noises coming from each other’s mouths. So considering last time’s collaboration went down the success drain, all you guys will do is interact with the kids.”

Oswald pointed at Mickey. “And what about you?” he wondered. “You’re not going to show your face? During the tour of the set, you an’ Bugs never mentioned once whether you’d be in it or not.”

“We won’t be, that’s why,” Mickey said. “We thought that we’d unintentionally rob the attention, and since this is supposed to be a charity video, we wanted to keep that from happening. Besides; it gives the rest of you a moment to shine, to show that you can be great with the kids too, despite them being child actors.”

There was a moment of silence as the Disney characters looked through the script. Mickey could over hear Bugs explaining most of the same things to his group as the mouse had, and heard very similar questions. He rubbed his hands together and bit his lip; he prayed with all his might that today was not going to be the beginning of a disaster like the last time.

Soft footsteps were heard coming in his direction. Mickey looked up just in time to see Penny rush over with a clapperboard in her hands. She stopped next to the mouse couple while curtsying and smiled. “Mister Mickey, Sir, Daddy says it’s time to start the first round of takes,” she said.

The mouse nodded his thanks and as the piglet left, clapped his hands. “Alright, Gang; we’ll be doing the first few shots without the music, since the musicians aren’t due until Wednesday. And Bugs said journalists may come in to see what’s up around the end of the day but that’s not guaranteed; his boss just wants to make sure we don’t—!”

“Hey!” Donald exclaimed, catching everyone’s attention. He slapped the first page of the script. “I’ve gotta share most of my screen time with that dumb duck!”

Mickey let out a moan and let his shoulders droop as Daisy slapped her forehead. “Donald, not now,” he said.

“I don’t like this set up,” the bird continued. “I understand not speaking, but this is ridiculous. I’m not gonna be in the same scenes as that jerk.”

“Donald, you guys only have to pass gifts to the kids,” Mickey replied behind clenched teeth, attempting not to lose his temper. “Ya don’t even need to touch each other.” He raised a finger in warning. “But if you as much as mutter something to him, you’ll get what’s comin’ to ya.”

Donald glared back at him. “So says the mouse…” The rest of his words were inaudible. He tossed his script over his shoulder. “I’m not working with him,” he pouted, crossing his arms.

Mickey pulled on his ears in frustration until Daisy stepped forward and placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Donald,” the female duck said, “It’s just one week. Without speaking to him. I’m sure Daffy doesn’t want to work with you as much as you don’t want to work with him, but this time, please just think about what the purpose of the video is, alright?” Donald mumbled something beneath his breath, and Daisy looked at Mickey with a pitiful smile. “We’ll do what we can, Mickey; it is Christmas, after all.”

“Thank you,” Mickey mumbled. “Places, everyone. And remember; you don’t have to talk: just cooperate!” He watched everyone dash to their places before letting out another moan and looking skyward. “Is it wrong for me to wish I could retire from this Hollywood mumbo jumbo?” he muttered.

Minnie giggled and rubbed his back. “Hang in there, Mickey; things can still change.” She gave him a kiss and walked off. “I’ll go take my place with the children. Good luck, Honey!”

Mickey watched her leave before casting a glance over at the rabbit who had just told his group to take their places as well. Bugs watched them leave before looking at Mickey and smiling. The mouse could sense the anxiety behind that smile, and he was sure Bugs could sense the anxiety behind his when Mickey grinned back.

“When I was drawn, this was never in the contract,” Mickey mumbled as he headed for the gray hare.

*****

For most of the morning, things ran rather smoothly. For safety reasons, as well as to see how many cartoons could fit on set at once, Bugs had the Looney Tunes act out their parts first. They would come in, bringing a large bag and gifts, decorations and whatnot, spreading out over the fake hospital set. The first few times, Bugs directed them one by one, showing where they were to go and how fast. Some on his team were in charge of the technical side of things, therefore he had to tell them where to point the lights and when to make it look as though snow was falling outdoors.

Had it not been for all his years of working at Warner Brothers, Bugs was certain he would have needed to hire someone else to take care of the lighting.

Next, it was Disney’s turn.

Mickey had less of an issue directing his team because all except for three or four were shorter than most Looney Tunes. They had more space to walk around in and bring in props. That, and all his years of following his creator around and learning of cinematography made Mickey’s job on this project much easier. Directing them one by one was a piece of cake for the Hollywood icon.

After a lunch break—the studio had set up a snack table in the warehouse so that the two teams did not have to go far without getting bombarded by the media now parked outside—Bugs and Mickey went over a few last details before getting their teams together for that afternoon.

At two thirty, it was time to have both groups on set together.

Mickey stood on the sidelines with Bugs, Penny nearby with the clapperboard. “Alright, so first round, we’ll have you guys walk in the same way ya did when it was separate,” he explained. “Only slowly. Get a good sense of the space around ya and remember to pretend that the human actors we’ll have come in later this week are there. That includes kids in bed and the nurses walking about.”

Bugs raised his clipboard up. “Okay, foist up comin’ in are Daisy and Clarabelle,” he called out. “Next are Porky and Goofy, Sylvester and Oswald.” He continued naming everyone through the list until he came to a certain pair he was the most worried about. “And uh… Daffy and Donald come in with the uh… bag of gifts.” He shot a worried glance at Mickey, who simply shrugged in reply; they wanted the two ducks to have the most important roles due to the two of them being Bugs and Mickey’s closest companions. They were, however, the most explosive characters of the group, so whatever they did, the rabbit and mouse had to be certain nothing was out of place, lest they wanted an accident like last time.

Mickey cleared his throat. “Uh, ya’all ready?” he said.

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Daffy mumbled, just as he and Donald looked in opposite directions.

“Good enough.”

Penny held up the clapperboard over her head. “And, action!” she cried out, slapping down the striped bar.

Each pair of characters came in with whatever prop they had, and for the first fifteen minutes, they did so by walking. Now and then, Bugs had to interfere and move someone over slightly—“You just stepped on a noirse, Doc”—but for the most part, while progress was slow, it ran rather smoothly. No problems so far.

At the back of the studio, the children—save Penny who often helped on set with clapperboards—sat with Minnie, watching their parents work. The children continued to point at the pair of ducks that walked in with the bag of boxes, always betting on when and which one would blow up first. The only one who kept silent the entire time was Ashton; all he was concerned of was his father’s plan backfiring.

When Mickey announced that they would practice at normal speed, everything ran as smoothly as earlier… until it came time for the bag of gifts to come in.

Daffy had been in a relatively good mood that day, despite working with a duck he could not stand in the least. He was polite if addressed to by an opposing Toon, and since he only shot dirty glares at Donald, he made sure never to look at or cross paths with him on break. But just when Bugs thought nothing could possibly go awry, Daffy was yanked backwards on set by his bag of gifts, which got caught in the doorway as the swinging doors closed on it. He yelped and fell to the ground, all the while Donald continued his way, laughing behind his hand.

“Cut,” Mickey called out, causing everyone to stop where they were. He ran up to the black duck and attempted to help him to his feet. “What happened? You were on time, so why did the doors close on ya?”

“Because that dumb feather-brained dodo bird got a head start,” Daffy hissed. He pushed Mickey’s hands aside and rose himself to his feet while dusting himself off.

“Hey, did not!” Donald exclaimed, as he dropped his bag and stomped back to Daffy. “I was on time!”

“Of course, that’s why you went through the door, first,” Daffy growled.

“You were just slow,” Donald replied as they leaned towards each other.

Bugs noticed the signs of a ticking bomb beginning and hastily made his way onto the set in order to break up the fight about to ensue. “What happened to the no voibal communication script I talked about, eh?” he said. “We put that rule up specifically so you two didn’t have tah talk to each other.”

“Tell him to work accordingly, then,” Daffy said.

“You wanna piece of me, huh?” Donald challenged, all the while pushing his little sailor’s cap back and holding up his fists.

Daffy scoffed. “Please, I’ve dealt with hunters scarier than you,” he said. “And taller.”

“Oh yeah?”

“NO, no oh yeahs!” Bugs snapped, pushing the two ducks back again. “Now let’s do this from the top again, and this time, Donald slow down, and Daffy, speed up. Clear?” He leaned towards Daffy and narrowed his eyes. “Steppin’ over deh line again, Duck.”

“You’re beginning to get on my nerves too, Fuzzfoot,” the duck replied as everyone returned to their former places.

From where he was sitting, Tyrone giggled and rubbed his hands together. “Things are about to get interesting,” he said.

Ashton only pulled on his ears and squeaked.

The cartoons redid everything up to the moment when Daffy and Donald walk in with their props. This time, neither of them got stuck in the doors, but that did not keep something else from going wrong.

“CUT,” Mickey shouted as Bugs buried his face in his hands. The mouse frowned at Donald and pointed at him from where he was sitting. “Stick that tongue back into your mouth, Donald Duck!”

Donald, who was busy raspberrying Daffy as they walked in without a problem, did so obediently but not without a frown over his brow. Daffy snickered and muttered “Sucker.”

“And don’t speak, Daffy,” Bugs added.

Something like this continued to happen for the next two tries, and the more they had to begin again because of the ducks, the more Ashton could tell that the others, even Porky and Goofy, were beginning to lose their patience.

The following time came around and no problems arouse. Mickey sighed of relief while looking at Bugs once the ducks had walked into the hospital without even a grimace. “About time,” he muttered. “If they keep this up, we can finish early.”

Bugs did not seem as confident as his companion was. He had a hand over his mouth and a worried frown over his brow. “You don’t know Daff like I do,” he said. “It may look like everything’s woikin’ out, but if there’s one thing the Looney Tunes are good at doin’, it’s startin’ a fight until someone wins.” He messaged his temples. “I just hope he can hold it in until dey’re off set after the real shoot.”

Their teams walked, jogged, ran or skipped to various areas of the hospital, acting out a Christmas scene as best as they could with the growing storm cloud in the atmosphere. Daisy was the most uppity, knowing that it was important to look convincing for the camera, even when practicing. Looney Tunes danced and put up decorations together before helping Disney Toons set up the tree in the lobby. Some crowded around hospital beds, swaying back and forth while pretending to sing carols. Pepe even leaned over one bed, pretending to give a child a hug. At this gesture, Pete and Oswald leaned back while discretely covering their noses.

Mickey passed a hand over his face while Bugs rolled his eyes. “We’re gonna need tah give ‘em nose plugs er somethin’,” the rabbit muttered.

They continued scanning the area, satisfied for the time being with how things were going, until again, the pair of male ducks caught their attention; while making their rounds of the rooms and handing out gifts, Daffy held out his foot and nearly tripped Donald. In return, when they were sitting next to a bed, Donald “accidentally” hit Daffy in the head with a box before they took turns passing gifts to the invisible children… all the while shooting icy glares at each other.

“I am way too old for this,” Mickey mumbled behind his hand before rising to his feet. He spread out his arms. “CUT!”

There was a loud series of moans and groans coming from both the Looney Tunes and the Disney Core. Some slammed their heads against walls, others threw their heads back and cursed to the sky. Mickey stomped right onto set, fists clenched, and entered the large room where the ducks were currently. He picked up a box and pointed at it while glaring at Donald. “This is supposed to be fragile,” he said. “It is not a head-bopping prop. It is a gift. A GIFT.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Donald replied as he crossed his arms.

“Apparently, I do.”

“And these, Daffy,” Bugs added as he walked into the room. He placed a hand around the duck’s leg and pulled it upward, causing the duck to fall to the ground with a yelp. “These are not for trippin’. At least not in dis picture.”

“HE started it,” Daffy complained, regaining his balance.

“YOU tripped me first!” Donald accused.

“Who cares who did what first,” Mickey said. “Another thing is at least try to pretend that it’s Christmas. Don’t keep shooting glares at each other through the entire picture!”

“Tell him to smarten up,” Donald mumbled. Daffy stuck out his tongue.

There was a groan from outside the room. “Just snap it shut and do it right,” Pete growled. “I’m getting sick of having to restart every time!”

“Yeah!” Yosemite Sam agreed. “Button up, ya feather brained varmints! Ah’m tired of workin’ on this here project anyway, an’ yer makin’ it worse!”

“Shut up, the both of you!” Daffy snapped back. He was greeted by a swat over the head from Bugs. “OW!”

“Everyone, be quiet,” Bugs said. “We’re gonna take a breather, since it seems like some of us need a good fifteen. Now off the set.”

Muttered complaints left the mouths of everyone as they strolled off of the hospital set. Mickey and Bugs led Donald and Daffy out, but as soon as they were off set, the two ducks leaped at each other and pulled each other’s feathers.

“Oh for cryin’ out loud,” Bugs groaned as he and Mickey pulled the ducks apart. “Daffy, knock it off! We’ve only got so much time left tah rehoise!”

“Let’s call it a day, then!” Daffy suggested. “Because I ain’t workin’ any more with that loser.”

“We’ll need tah restart tomorrow den—!”

“Forget it, I’m through! I gave it a chance, and I told you if one thing made me tip, I’d screw the whole project. So I’m out!” Daffy pushed the rabbit’s hands off of him and stormed off.

“If you’re out, then you don’t get paid,” Bugs pointed out, making the duck stop. “An’ I know just how much you like yer paychecks, Daff.”

Daffy turned around to face him, a cool look over his face. “You know what, you’re right, Bugs,” he said in an unusually calm tone. “You’re absolutely right. I do like my paychecks.” He began side stepping towards the snack table, hands behind his back and eyes still on the rabbit. “But you know what’s not worth my time and effort? You know when’s the only time I wouldn’t mind not getting paid?” A frown fell over his brow as he clenched his fists. “It’s when I have to work on a project with these snobby little, magic believing DISNEY BUMS!”

This attracted more unwanted attention then Bugs and Mickey would want. All the Disney characters growled or let out shouts of dismay. Pete pointed at the black duck. “Yeah, well we never asked to work with a bunch of Looney Brats, either, pal,” he said. “If we suck, you guys stink, and I mean that literally!”

Pepe scoffed and his tail fluffed up. “I resent zat remark, Monsieur,” he said.

As more and more characters began to complain and shoot insults at each other, Mickey squeaked and bit his fingernails. His ears drooped a little and his tail fell. It was not often that Bugs saw the confident star lose his cool, so if he did not find a way to stop the growing storm, things would take a nasty turn.

Bugs ran into the center of the group of advancing Toons and held up his arms, causing them all to stop in their tracks. “Hold up!” he shouted. “I understand that we’ve got our differences,” he said. “But do you think we could maybe woik it out fer just a little while?”

“Give us one reason why,” Oswald challenged.

“It’s Christmas,” Bugs replied. “We ain’t doin’ this to prove who’s better. We’re doin’ it so that we can help them kids. Doesn’t that mean anything to anyone?”

“Since when did you care so much anyway?” Pete noticed. “Other than the rest of your silly band of misfits, I’ve never seen you care about your fans to this extent before.”

Bugs recognized this as a threat, a means to make him angry, but he simply crossed his arms and frowned. “If I didn’t care about my fans, or about kids in the hospital, Pete, I wouldn’t have gotten married and had a kid of my own,” he said. “Kids are the next generation of fans. If you let ‘em know you care, they’ll keep carin’ for the rest of their lives.” He looked at everyone around him. “We all need our fans to keep us on our toes and alive, remember? They feed our Sources. So why don’t we just pull ourselves together and try to be happy?”

The other characters mumbled stubbornly while looking at each other. Bugs thought that he had been able to get through to them for a moment, but then someone over his shoulder chuckled deeply, sending a chill up his spine.

“You’re right Bugs,” Daffy said coolly, as the rabbit turned to look at him. “We should pull ourselves together and be happy.” By this time, the duck had made his way to the snack table and was now holding up a lemon meringue pie. He smiled deviously at his best friend. “And you know what would make me happy? A delicious pie.” With that, he pulled his arm back and threw it as hard as he could. The pie splattered all over Donald’s face, causing him to stumble backwards to the floor with a cry of dismay.

Daffy stood up on the table and picked up another pie, much to Bugs’ dismay. “You’re in our territory now, Disney, so let’s show ‘em what humor makes us Looney Tunes unique!” he shouted. “Here’s to you, Rich SNOBS!”

“NO, DAFFY, DON’T!” Bugs shrieked, reaching out for the duck only seconds too late. Daffy tossed the second pie while laughing hysterically, having it land in Pete’s face, before leaping off of the table and landing on top of Donald. Just as the two of them began rolling about in a fist fight, the rest of the Looney Tunes and Disney Core either reached for each other’s throats or ran for the snack table to grab some ammo.

Bugs grabbed Mickey by the hand and yanked him out of the way before the mouse was trampled.

Tyrone cried out excitedly as Penny covered her head with the clapperboard and Beebop peeked through his fingers. “Alright! Now THIS is a showdown! WOO! Go Dad!”

“Oh my,” Minnie gasped as some jello flew over her head. She pulled out a small umbrella from her purse and opened it wide. “Gather round, kids!” She set it down in front of them just as fruits and vegetables exploded over the umbrella.

Within minutes, the Warehouse was a warzone. Toons ran about, tossing food and insults at each other or rolled about while throwing fists. Everything, from the walls to the set, was smothered in whip cream and tomatoes, and even fruit punch.

Mickey pulled on his ears. “Bugs, we gotta stop ‘em before they destroy the equipment like last time,” he said. “My manager is going to have my head if I spend more of the company’s savings on damages and a project that fell through again!”

“At least they didn’t tell ya they’d cancel any shows of yours,” Bugs replied. He looked around for anything of any use. “If we could somehow cause a big enough distraction, we could—!”

“BOMBS AWAY, HEEHEE!” Yosemite Sam’s cry of delight from above caused both Bugs and Mickey to look up, just in time to see the prospector and Wile E. Coyote setting off dynamite and tossing them over the side of the rafters. “Have some of this, ya varmints!”

“NOT ON THE EQUIPMENT!” Bugs screamed. He dashed into the battle zone, followed by Mickey, leaping over and sliding beneath anyone who got in his way. He got hit by some carrot cake and Mickey got a bit of chocolate fudge over his face, but they simply brushed the food off until Bugs had reached the wheel barrel he had seen in the corner of the room. He pulled out a slingshot and handed it to Mickey. “You know how tah use this, right?” he asked hastily.

“Yeah, why?” Mickey wondered, still unsure what the rabbit’s plan was.

Bugs grabbed the handles of the barrel and dashed off. “Use anything to just hit dem dynamite and knock ‘em aside so dat dey don’t hit the set,” he instructed. “I’ll catch ‘em in the wheel barrel!”

The mouse immediately set himself to the task. Grabbing some stray baby carrots from the floor, he shot them into the air after each stick of dynamite that fell. Never before did he ever think he’d be grateful for the days he spent slingshotting pebbles across the lake with his nephews or with his best friends.

Bugs looked out for every dynamite stick that fell, and turned the wheel barrel in every direction, zigzagging through the battlefield. One by one, every stick fell into the tub of the barrel, and he continued to pick them up until the coyote had run out. He turned around once the last had fallen into the pile he had collected and headed for the back of the warehouse. “Almost dere,” he said. “… Aaannd—!”

Just as he had pushed the barrel off as hard as he could towards an empty area, Daffy and Donald slammed into him unknowingly, sending all three of them to the now pie covered floor. The wheel barrel continued to roll uncontrollably until finally, the dynamite within it all went off at once, rocking the room with a giant explosion. Every Toon present felt to the ground at the shock, and only two light posts fell and exploded into pieces on the floor.

Mickey shielded himself from the blast and only peeked once it had calmed down. Just as the rest of their teams got right back to fighting, he ran over to where Bugs, Daffy and Donald were.

“Was that enough of a blast for ya, Squawker?” Daffy growled as he wrapped his fists around Donald’s throat.

“I’ve seen better, weirdo,” Donald replied as he pinched Daffy’s side.

Neither of them had expected Bugs to interfere, but the rabbit did so anyhow. He tried getting between the two and pushing them away, and once Mickey had arrived the mouse attempted to do that same as well. “Guys, cut it out!” Bugs said. “You’ve made yer point, now stop it!”

“I ain’t stoppin’ til he stops first!” Daffy replied.

“Same goes for me,” Donald added.

Bugs pushed Daffy backwards while Mickey did the same with Donald. “You need to stop now,” Bugs repeated. “If ya don’t, we’re all gonna get—!”

“WHAT’S GOING ON?!”

The sheer sound of the booming shout caused every single cartoon character, even Daffy and Donald, to immediately freeze in their tracks. The children peered around Minnie’s umbrella to see who had come in from the doors of the studio. Bugs gulped and his ears immediately fell backwards as he turned around and let go of his best friend. He bared his teeth and grinned at the man who had come in through the doors and was now standing with his fists clenched, glaring at the rabbit.

Mickey placed his hands behind his back and stared at the human with wide eyes as his ears fell.

“Eh,” Bugs began. “… What’s up, Director, sir?”

*****