With only a spotlight shining in the darkness, I couldn't tell what else 'here' actually was.

What if I'm... down there?

It ain't as if I'd never committed a sin, but you'd think with how the deck was stacked, they'd have given me a little grace, right?

“Oh, Sally, no, it's not like that at all,” the nearby voice reassured me. “We're above board here. But not that high up, either.”

“Hold on a second,” I said to the empty air. “Just who are you, anyway?”

“Me? Why, I’m Mr. Narrator! Your assigned guide!”

“My assigned guide?” I turned in a circle, my head taking the lead so much that I could see the rest of me lagging behind.

Oh, look at that ink job on my tail.

Grade A work!

Yet nothing else but that spotlight was visible. “And where are you?”

“Ah. Yes. That’s the thing, see. Or rather, you can’t!”

“You’re invisible?”

Gosh. I know how that feels.

“Well, Sally, I’d say I have a face for radio, except I have no face at all.”

“So.... you’re a voice?”

Just a voice? Nothing else?

“Precisely! The voice assigned to you. I’ve been waiting quite some time for someone with… well, with potential.”

“Potential? Me? But that card—now where did it go—”

It reappeared on its mention, hovering just in front of me. Right there it was, in black and white. Zero Star Power Points. Background Bound.

“Pal, if this is potential,“ I warned, pretending its ranking didn't bother me. "I’d hate to see your idea of a lost cause.”

“Oh no, you misunderstand! Not everyone gets a voice like me. Most characters just exist. Take their jobs, earn their points. But you—you’ve got a special something.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Well, we’ll just have to figure that out, won’t we?”

And here I was hoping for one of them omni—omnipi—omnipo... er, all-knowing voices.

“Alright, Mr. Narrator. And how do we do that?”

“Well, first things first—” His voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. “You mustn’t mention your past life. Not to anyone. If you tell them you came from the other side of the fourth wall, they’ll think you’re a screwball. Lock you up in the Looney Bin, even.”

“The Looney Bin?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. So if anyone asks, you’re a transfer from another studio. Technically true, isn’t it? You worked in animation.”

“I washed cells. But how do you know that?”

“I was briefed on you, Sally. And washing cells is still work, wouldn’t you say?”

“And how!”

“Just don’t mention the fire. Or dying. Some topics are forbidden here.”

“Forbidden? By who?”

“By Studio Management. It’s safer not to ask too many questions. Not out loud, anyway. And Sally—” His voice got even quieter, almost urgent. “Don’t tell anyone you can hear me, either. That’s another way to end up in that Looney Bin.”

I tried to cross my arms, but my noodle limbs twisted up more than once. “You’re tellin’ me to keep my mouth shut.”

“I’m telling you to be smart. You want to get on here? Learn the rules first. Then figure out how to bend them.”

I untangled my arms slowly.

Sounds square to me.

“So what’s my first job?”

“Getting through the studio gate.”

“And which way is—”

The darkness around us yawned loudly with newly formed lips. Its mouth opened, and behind its teeth, a tunnel appeared.

I shivered and pointed. “Ya mean...” I gulped. “In there?”

“In here!” the mouth declared, just as it snapped forward and swallowed me whole.

After I heard it lick its lips with a slurp, I tumbled through the wriggling tunnel. A spiralizing kazoo crescendo accompanied me as I rolled and bounced, head over feet.

Then—whoosh!

I shot out the other end and landed hard on asphalt, skidding forward on my belly with a screech until I crashed into a wrought-iron gate with a loud drumbash.

“Oof!” I wheezed.

Mr. Narrator let out a laugh. “Right on target!”

“Yeah, next time maybe I’ll aim for something softer,” I groaned, peeling my face off its bars. I then shook myself out, pleased to see that I reinflated into my normal, well... cartoon shape.

An Art Deco card materialized in front of me as I stood up, shimmering with gold leaf.

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

SKILL UNLOCKED: ELASTIC RECOVERY [BASIC]

Category: STUNT

Description: Ability to compress and reform the self after a low-impact collision.

System Says: “Skip the doc! Elastic Recovery saves on payroll.”

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

“Well, would you look at that,” Mr. Narrator said, sounding almost proud. “You just pulled off a textbook slapstick recovery. That's quite the trick!”

“I didn’t figure anything out. I just... stood up and shook it out like a wet dog.”

“Exactly. That’s the trick to it.”

The card turned over, showing me that the skill replaced [Bupkis] in my Active Skill 1 slot.

With a loud poof, the entire card dissolved into sparkles.

“Well, would ya look at that,” I said with a low whistle. “That gives new meaning to the phrase card tricks!”

Mr. Narrator was polite enough to laugh again, even as another voice yelled, “I’m lookin’... and all I see is trouble!”

To the left of the gate I hit was a small security booth, with a guard inside.

He was an angry-looking bulldog, complete with jowls, underbite, you know, the works. He wore a uniform that was three sizes too small and held a clipboard that had a bite out of the top corner.

“State your name,” he growled, his neck veins popping.

“The name’s Sally. Sally S—”

“Snake!” he barked loudly. “A snake?! No snakes allowed in here! Villains are escorted through the back!”

“I’m not a snake! Look here, what sorta snake has arms and legs?!”

The bulldog squinted at me, a testy rumble escaping his lips. Then he turned and pointed at a flower planter next to his booth.

“What about ’em?” I asked suspiciously.

“Take a closer look.”

The flowers, sure enough, had leafy arms. They were potted up in soil, but their little hands were visible, gripping the edges of the ceramic pot.

One of them, a daisy with a particularly cheerful expression, looked up at the sun.

“Brrrrreaktime!” he announced in a loud baritone.

The other flowers immediately perked up. They hoisted themselves out of the soil, shook the potting from their roots, and started walking away in a line, all chatting away with a deep rumble. One even pulled a cigar out from nowhere next to his hip.

“Everything’s got arms and legs around here,” the bulldog snapped. “Even snakes like you.”

“I’m not a snake. I’m a salamander!”

“Salamander?”

“Yes! Salamander.”

He scowled. “Like one of them lizards?”

I closed my eyes, steeling myself not to correct him. “Yeah. Like one of them lizards.”

If a snake had arms and legs, then what's the difference between them and a lizard? Both are reptiles, right?

“Cartoon logic, Sally, Cartoon logic,” Mr. Narrator reminded me.

The security bulldog clicked his tongue several times. “I’m going to need to see some identification.”

“Identification? Uh, I don’t have any—”

“Psst,” Mr. Narrator hissed. “Summon your System Card. Your name’s on it!”

I frowned, then wiggled my gloved fingers. “Uh... Er... Presto?”

Poof!

And there it was.

The bulldog kept looking at both it and me. “Well, I’ll be.... You are a salamander! Ain’t never seen any of those around here before.”

“That just means I’m gonna stand out,” I said, folding my arms.

Got it right this time! No twisting, no knots.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he agreed, opening the gate. “Alright then, come on in. And good luck finding a job,” he noted before whispering, “you’re gonna need it.”