Somewhere past the darkness, I heard a trumpet take up a note. A second one joined, then a trombone slid in between them, slower but even more confident about its rhythm. A few saxophones got in the gag, calling in a banjo to set the whole song straight.

Oh right… That's...

Let’s Misbehave by Cole Porter.

My stars, how long had it been since I played that ol' vinyl?

Flat as it was, I couldn’t afford to bring it with me on my trip to the West Coast, but I never forgot its classic swing.

Mm… But the lyrics?

Oh no, the lyrics!

My eyes snapped open, finding the dormitory still pitch black.

Yet that song was still playing in my ears.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Mr. Narrator said with a brightness that didn’t match the hour. “Catchy little number, isn’t it?”

I sat bolt upright, trying not to wake the others.

“Where’d—how’d,” I spluttered in whispers.

The music stopped.

“Oh, just tidying up in here. Sometimes you leave things scattered all about something awful. I found this one sitting right out.” Then he gasped. “Oh Sally, I wasn’t prying or anything! It was just out in the open, and it sure seemed to be made for you.”

“How could you even say such a thing—” I clapped a hand over my own mouth, realizing I startled a snort out of the pig girl sleeping next to me.

Strange. She wasn’t here when I went to bed. Otherwise, I would have asked for her name. It’s weird, sleeping next to strangers.

The music started to play again. “It sure sounds swell,” Mr. Narrator said.

We’re all alone—

No chaperone—

Can get our number,

The world's in slumber,

Let's misbehave!

“Pull it!” I hissed. “Pull it right now before it gets to the part about them lovebirds—oh please just pull it, Mr. Narrator.”

This time the music stopped abruptly with a loud, zippy scratch. “Whatever you’d like, Sally.”

I could feel the embarrassment heating my cheeks, even though it was clear he didn't know what it was really about. “Thanks.”

Another snort came from the nearby blanket. I held my breath as the pig turned, then let out a sigh of relief as she settled into her mattress more.

Mr. Narrator cleared his throat. “I know it’s not dawn yet, but since you’re awake anyway… Why don’t we try to get a jump on the call board?”

I got up off my bed carefully and tiptoed to the nearest window. Outside, the crescent moon yawned a little before rubbing its eyes. No sun yet, but I could see it wouldn’t be worth it to try and fall back asleep at this point.

“First in line at the gate might help,” I whispered in agreement. “Give a gal some privacy while she gets ready, would ya?”

“I’ll go take a powder!”

Surprisingly, the studio gate had been left wide open and was currently creaking a bit on its hinges. With a cursory look left, then a right, I gave a squiggly shrug before stepping around it.

“Identification please, miss.”

I spun around full circle, unable to find the owner of that voice. “Uh, hello?”

“Up here.”

I rolled my eyes upward and to the left. A bat, no bigger than my gloved fist, hung upside down from the top edge of the security booth’s doorway. Somehow, his tiny security hat stayed fixed on his head.

“Your calling card, if you please,” he reiterated.

“Uh, sure, sure.”

I wiggled my fingers and summoned my stats.

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

TOON TALENT SYSTEM

—Patent Pending—

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

SYSTEM SAYS: First come, first served—and Studio Management’s keeping count!

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

NAME: Sally Salamander

SPECIES: Salamander (Speckled, Animated Variant)

STAR POWER POINTS: 0

RANK: 0 – Background Bound

ANIMATION TIER: Monochrome Mode

ACTIVE SKILL 1: Elastic Recovery [BASIC – STUNT]

ACTIVE SKILL 2: Razor Wit [BASIC – BANTER]

ACTIVE SKILL 3: [Bupkis]

PASSIVE ABILITY: BORN OF FLAME [Dormant]

STATUS: Unemployed

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

Studio Management: Zzz…

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

“Oh, uh, pardon me,” I mumbled, spinning the card around so the bat could read it from his perch.

The bat pulled out a tiny pair of glasses and blinked several times as he moved them in front of his eyes. “Oh yes, our very first transfer! How delightful. Oh, but you’re a bit naïve, aren’t you?”

“Why yes, I am—now hold on just a minute—”

The bat chuckled as he dropped from the doorway, flapping his wings. “There’s no reason to show me, or anyone else, your entire hand, Sally.” He poked the card with his right wing while hovering in mid-air, and it shrank significantly. “There. Keep a few things closer to your person. Otherwise, you'll give up your whole gambit!”

I blinked, looking over the card once more.

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

NAME: Sally Salamander

SPECIES: Salamander (Speckled, Animated Variant)

RANK: 0 – Background Bound

═════════ ✦ ✦ ✦ ═════════

“That’s all you really need to show anyone for verification,” he explained. “If anyone asks you for any more than that, be sure to consider the consequences.” He floated up a little higher and then moved to the side. “You can come on in, just mind Backlot E.”

“Backlot E? What’s going on there?”

“Night filming,” he replied. “I’d steer clear of it, if I were you. Call board’s before it, though, so you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

I scratched the side of my cheek. “I’m that obvious, huh?”

He flittered back up to the top of the doorway and took hold of it with both of his tiny feet. “You’re not the first matinee main to get an early start. Just stay out of the shadows, and you’ll do just fine.” He yawned then, tucking his wings in close. “G’night, er, g’morning’ almost, Miss Salamander.”

“Sleep tight, sir,” I replied as I passed by.

The lot was much more peaceful at this time. There were light enough shades of gray to see by, for the most part, mostly due to some of the stars above. However, there were also large patches of black, and I avoided them just like the security bat had warned.

The security bat?

“You’re wondering how that tiny toon keeps things on the up ‘n’ up too, aren’t you?” Mr. Narrator asked.

“A little,” I admitted, heading toward the call board. “Though I had kept a certain bat at home for security myself,” I said, winding up to knock out a pitch.

Mr. Narrator chuckled. “Don’t underestimate him, Sally. Even the scrawniest of the bunch can pack a big wallop.”

The call board was still empty, with a shrill wind blowing across it. When its whistle exhausted itself, I could hear someone going to town on a xylophone.

Tink-a-tink-a-plink.

The plinks and the tinks alternated back and forth for a bit, dropping an octave down into a spooky shiver.

“Maybe we should head back to the entrance a bit,” Mr. Narrator suggested. “We don’t know what lurks in the nearby shadows…”

“Don’t tell me you’re a scaredy-cat,” I quipped. “That’s not creep, that’s craft. A very cartoon kind of craft, even.”

No real monster works the woodpile like that!

“Now let’s see…” I looked around for a moment, then found a studio lot sign. “If Backlot C4, well, what’s left of it, is here, and D is there… Then by alphabetical deduction, E ought to be just over there!”

I darted forward against Mr. Narrator’s protests.

I’ll finally get a peek behind the curtain!

Except there was no curtain.

Backlot E was a graveyard, literally. Sure, it was fake, with whitewashed wooden headstones and swaying trees that absolutely had feet hidden under bushy boots, but it was the skeletons that pulled the scene together. With bones clacking out the beat like a master metronome, the chorus line moved down and back in perfect, synchronized harmony.

Were they strung on a wire?

I stayed stuck to the side of a nearby studio, frozen in awe.

No! They had absolute control over every single bone in their body.

Wait.

If cartoon characters don’t die, does that mean they were born skeletons?

The harder I thought about the consequences of their creation, the more unsettling I found the whole thing.

Maybe these are spooky scary skeletons after all.

“—And cut!” somebody hollered. The skeletons broke, each one settling on their tarsals to take a breather.

Skeletons breathe…

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Mr. Narrator murmured.

Oh, I doubt that.

One of the shambling skeletons started heading my way. I gulped, knowing I didn’t pay for the show. Backing up was useless, since I had managed to wedge myself in the corner of an outcropping.

The skeleton leaned in close, its empty, looming eye sockets nearly consuming my entire field of vision.

“Boo,” she said in a whisper.

“Auuugh!” I screamed as she rattled her bones, laughing.

“Caught ya peeping,” she said, slapping her patella. “So, pay up. Tell me what you thought of our performance!”

I blinked. “Oh!”

“Oh?”

“Well, er, Ms. Skeleton—”

“Clara. Clara Clavicle. Don’t be fooled by the name. I’m a full bundle of bones!”

Oh, she’s quite clever!

I nodded and held out my hand. “Sally Salamander. Put’er there.”

She shook it hard, up and down, and the rest of me followed. After she put me down, I shook myself out. “I gotta admit, that was the first performance I’ve seen. But it was sure grand!”

Clara’s grin couldn’t have been wider, but that was due to her facial structure. She nodded merrily, happy for the compliment. “We were practicing for weeks. Finally got it down pat.”

“The music was on key, too,” I added.

“My stars! So many compliments from a matinee main!” she replied, crossing her arm bones.

“That’s the second time I’ve been called that… Is it good or bad?”

“Oh… No, Sally, it ain’t bad. It’s just… Well, it’s not good for my kind to be out during the day. Don’t want to scare the gentle woodland creatures, you know?”

“Yeah. We're all real gentlelike.” I rolled my eyes, and her bones tinkled mischievously.

“Speaking of the day,” Clara said, looking up. “My graveyard shift is coming to an end. I gotta head back home. Nice meetin’ you. Maybe one night, we’ll perform together! You got a good scream, and I bet if I chased ya, you could really show them a salamander skedaddle!”

I blinked several times but ended up just nodding my head. “Sounds swell.”

Clara clattered away, heading for the studio gate. On her way out, one of her bones fell to the ground, only to bounce up before chasing after her in earnest.

That’s when I saw it—the first line of lighter gray creeping up from the horizon.

“Cripes!” I bolted, sprinting as fast as I could. “The board! I forgot all about it!”