Today’s not just any day. Today’s the day.

“Uh… Mr. Brunelli, Boss?” I ventured, clutching my creation. “Could I maybe get your eyes on somethin’?”

Mr. Brunelli, hunched over his drafting table, a fat cigar bobbing between his grinding teeth, intentionally resumed his scribbling.

Animatin’ another dancing flowers loop?

Ugh, it’s been done to death.

After realizing I wasn’t leaving until he acknowledged me, he huffed, sending up a dark plume of stinky smoke. “If it’s another one of yer doodles, save it, sweetheart.”

I’m not sweet. I’m sassy.

But as they say, I gotta play the game.

“Nah, nah. This one’s even inked, see? She’s a salamander! Ain't she a riot?”

He rolled his eyes. “How many times have I gotta tell ya, Sally—females aren't funny!”

“You was laughing at my jokes earlier!”

“I was being polite. And reptiles—” he added, tapping his ash into an overflowing cigar tray, “—are repulsive. Nobody wants a cold-blooded dame singing on the silver screen.”

Salamanders aren't reptiles; they're amphibians. But if I correct him, he’ll just give me the cold shoulder.

I shoved the paper at him. “She don’t sing, she speaks! Behind that smile, I’m sure she’s quite the spitfire.”

She was posing like she owned the world, holding out a card that read “Comedy.” Her tagline underneath read, “Comedy’s on my calling card, but my satire’s my specialty!”

Cause that’s the kind of animation I aim for. Who needs another canary bird singing off-key? Let's start using cartoons to talk about what’s really going on around here!

“Sally Salamander can say and do all the things we other gals can’t get away with. Because she ain’t a person!”

Ya can’t hurt a cartoon character, right?

And the studio has ways to deal with any sourpusses they encounter.

“Gals don’t have nothing to complain or carry on about. And satire doesn’t sell.”

“Come on…” I cajoled. “No one’s done a story short with a salamander before. Imagine the title cards.” I waved my hand across the air to illustrate my point. “Sally steals the show! Sally says it like it is! Sally sets the record straight!”

Those ol’ record rip sound effects will live on forever, I just know it.

He finally gave it a brief once-over before cocking his head. “Where’s her fella?”

“She ain't got no need for no foxtrotin’ fella!”

He smirked. “Just like you, huh? Maybe she oughtta focus on marriage instead, cuz that’s what dames are good for.”

My blood became like fire. “I don't got no need for no fella, either.”

“Yeah?” He looked me up and down with a leer that I found downright uncomfortable. “You ain’t getting any younger, ya know.”

“Mr. Brunelli!”

He let out an exhaustive sigh. “Alright, alright, can’t have a dame in here screaming for a third time today. Management’s already breathing down my neck as it is. Lemme take a closer look.”

He grabbed a pair of spectacles two sizes too small and put them on his pudgy nose. Then he took the paper out of my hands and held it up, squinting at it.

“Well?” I asked, hopeful he was considering it.

He let out a large harumph and crumpled my drawing into a ball. Then he tossed it over his shoulder, where it bounced several times on the drawing room floor. “Farm animals and woodland creatures only!”

Salamanders are woodland creatures!

“Thanks for nothin’, Mr. Brunelli,” I muttered, bending over to salvage what I could.

He’d already turned back to his table, humming some stupid tune about a broken merry-go-round.

As I shuffled away with my scrambled sketch, he added gruffly, “Now get back to washing cels, or you’re fired!”

---

 

The studio gate slammed behind me angrily, like it was glad I was gone.

Don’t think you’ve seen the last of me. I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ll slam ya double for the disrespect today!

I hit the sidewalk with a swift Brooklyn stride no one could match. You have to show those warm California nights who’s boss, see. Don’t let that glamorous sunset fool you. There are predators on every corner, and behind their swagger are only empty promises for simple sheep.

Some things stay the same, no matter what coast you find yourself livin’ on.

Luckily, it was only four blocks to my home sweet shoebox above a lovely little florist shop. It was the smallest in town, but it always smelled nice, despite the rest of the neighborhood.

I counted the wolf whistles along the way.

Only three?

“You oughtta smile more, sweetheart!” someone jeered as his gaggle of goons laughed.

At your funeral, maybe.

I let my thoughts go back through the day.

“Females are funny,” I muttered to myself.

But do I want only funny?

Sally should be sophisticated, too. If she’s telling a story she wants people to do something about, she has to get people’s attention.

“Well, back to the drawing board,” I said as I climbed the stairs to my apartment. Two of them creaked, and the last one tried to trip me again.

“Take that,” I muttered as I slammed it back down with my foot.

I unlocked my door to my little hole in the wall. Sure, the wallpaper was peeling in spots, and its single panes rattled when the steel buses drove by, but it was mine. I even had a cot, so no more sleeping on the floor for me.

I kicked off my shoes, the left one hitting my radiator. It hissed in response and huffed, letting off a squirt of steam.

“Didn’t mean ta start a fight with you, Mr. Radiator.”

It seemed sullen, but it kept quiet.

With a soft exhale, I sat down on the edge of my cot and pulled Sally out of my purse, smoothing out the drawing across my knees.

She was ink-stained, wrinkled, and smudged, but she still smiled, even if it now looked a little strained.

The salamander with sass. Oh, the stories she could tell, if only someone could give her a chance.

“We’re too good for that man,” I told her. “I’ll see if I can get my foot into another studio. Maybe the one with the roaring lion?”

Dinner that evening came from a can, but tomorrow was payday, when I’d get myself some fresh bread and butter. Maybe even a few vegetables if I had anything left over. The songs from the radio were enough to keep me company, and before I knew it, I found myself drifting off to sleep.

---

 

Sometime in the night, a sharp pop jolted me from sleep. At first, I thought it was just the radiator paying me back for earlier, but several muffled thuds came from below.

I’ve heard about a bull in a china shop, but a stampede in a florist’s?

I sniffed, and instead of smelling the roses, I caught the whiff of… gasoline?

With my heart thumping, I jumped up. “What in blazes!?”

Another thud shook the wall.

Someone slamming a door?

After grabbing Sally and stuffing her into my purse, I ran to the door, but there was already a bright bloom of orange illuminating the doorframe. Smoke curled around the hinges. As soon as my hand touched the doorknob, I was scalded.

“Fire!” I screamed with a splutter, inhaling smoke on the pause. “Somebody help!”

I tried to push toward the window at the back of the narrow room, but the floor wavered with heat, my knees buckling as everything went gray at the edges.

“Gotta… Get out… Make it to payday… Butter… Bread and butter…”

I heard someone shout, “Silas sends his regards! Pay up next time, you petty proprietor!”

For a moment, everything softened. My limbs were as light as feathers, and everything turned white.

Then came the fall, and the world was nothing but pain and fire and darkness.

Silence stretched on and on.

Then, somewhere in the void, the radio played a loud, heralding trumpet, and all the pain disappeared.

Click!

It sounded like a reel locking into place.

And then the whole orchestra joined in, the first few seconds wobbling like the musicians hadn’t quite found their footing yet.

And then I saw it.

That orchestra was made up of instruments playing themselves.

A row of trumpets popped up into place along a glowing white horizon. Drums pushed them up even farther with their jaunty beat.

A black banner flew into place.

Ba-da-da-daaa! Da-da-da-dadada!

The fanfare exploded as giant letters swirled in from nowhere, their trails blazing with silver glitter. They collided midair with a theatrical thunk before spacing out into a title card.

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

❤ ANIMATED AMBITIONS ❤

Starring…

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

A spotlight clicked on, spiraled around me in confusion, then landed squarely on me.

“Sally Salamander!” a male voice boomed from nowhere.

“What the?!”

Why am I gray? Did I get burned that badly?

I shook myself.

Noodle arms!

I have noodle arms! Wavy, wobbly, noodle arms!

“Hey, who’s the wise guy?!”

“It certainly isn’t you, sister!” the voice quipped in a nasally, transatlantic whine. “But maybe someday, you’ll be seen for your smarts instead of your slime. Good thing you came with gloves already equipped. You’ll need ‘em!”

“What?”

I’m a salamander? A sticky salamander! With sausage finger gloves on my hands, and… I have a tail?

A speckled tail.

I must be dreamin’.

“Study hard at the School of Hard Knocks, Sally, and maybe you can take this world up to Technicolor Tech! Of course, it doesn’t come cheap.”

“Technicolor..?”

Why, that’s reserved only for the most pres-tig-ious productions!

“So how can someone like me afford something like that?”

The voice laughed. “I’m glad you asked, Sally!”

Another stylized Art Deco card appeared.

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

TOON TALENT SYSTEM

—Patent Pending—

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

SYSTEM SAYS: WELL HELLOOO, SALLY! You’re quite the character, ain’t ya?

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

NAME: Sally Salamander

SPECIES: Salamander (Speckled, Animated Variant)

STAR POWER POINTS: 0

RANK: 0 – Background Bound

ANIMATION TIER: Monochrome Mode

ACTIVE SKILL 1: [Bupkis]

ACTIVE SKILL 2: [Bupkis]

ACTIVE SKILL 3: [More Bupkis]

STATUS: Unemployed

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

Studio Management: Enroll in classes at The School Of Hard Knocks to learn new Skills. Tuition's payable in Star Power Points! Or let life teach you the hard way, free of charge (sort of). Animation Tiers rise when the whole studio pulls its weight. Oh, and for more Star Power Points..."Get a job, ya bum!"

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

A job?

You want me to get a job?

I’m in a new world…That is telling me, a dame, to get a job, instead of just quitting and giving up my independence?

Oh, I think I’m gonna like it here!

---