chickenbotscratch – Page 2 – Siblings-a-Fixin'

“ …No, I. I don’t. And I’m keepin’ a safe distance from that blue pipsqueak, ‘cause I’m really not in the mood to get busted up again. ”

Scratch shifted his attention to Doris for a brief moment.

“ Er. I think I’ll pass on bein’ a wakeup call. ”

He watched the glue can be tossed, but he never actually saw where it went, or what it did.

“ Though, I’ve heard he and Tails have gotten a little older. Geez, maybe they don’t even remember me. Wouldn’t that be somethin’! ”

“Alright,” replied Doris, “Just come by if ya need anythin’.”

She held out a business card with her second hand.

“Makes sense,” the Repairman nodded. Sonic might not have known that this was an ex-Badnik.

The chicken’s speculation gave the Repairman some pause for thought. Scratch, at least, had had his showtime, and probably left at least some impression to an audience, not to mention his world.

The Repairman, however… True, he ran a blog these days, but he never had a proper show, or an identity outside Fourth Wall repairing...

He mentally shook himself. He shouldn’t think like that.

Hoping none of that showed on him, he laughed half-heartedly, saying “Yeah, it would. Might not even need to worry about him.”

“I mean, I’m not sure what I expected from somewhere like this! You called it Toontown, right? Quite literally a cartoon town, hahah.”

The chickenlike bot couldn’t help but listen to their conversation, wondering why the Repairman would have to stick with Doris for a longer amount of time than originally thought. It couldn’t have been because of him, could it?

Scratch didn’t notice the Repairman cringing, and even if he’d asked, he’d still probably be confused.

“Ba-haaah, I kinda miss gettin’ paid! Wait, was I ever actually paid? Did Robotnik even have a salary for me?! If so, why can’t I remember gettin’ paychecks? Have I really been clonked on the head that many times?”

The Repairman looked back up at Scratch in surprise.

“You mean you don’t work for him anymore? Why are you hiding from Sonic, then?”

Doris chimed in, “If ya need pay, birdie, our firm is hirin’ alarm, roosters, and similar waker-uppers!”

“You and I have very different priorities,” the Repairman remarked, looking back down.

“Hey, mine are in order,” Doris shot back. “Don’t ya have a metaphor to maintain?”

The Repairman wanted to protest (to his increasing bafflement), but it was true. He did have a Fourth Wall to repair. Sighing, he pulled a can of glue from behind his back and threw its contents onto the fracture he caused here.

“I can imagine. Sometimes tools are randomly animate where I’m from, or things suddenly just become sentient for a short period of time and then stop doing that. It’s usually ‘only when it’s funny’.”

“But they barely ever have names! Well, other than ‘talking thingy’ or ‘living item’. But here, I’ve even seen some of the buildings talk! How does anything actually… get done around here…?”

“What you said pretty much says it all,” the Repairman replied, being careful about his word choice, “Things get done because it’s convenient that way. If they weren’t dramatic or convenient, they wouldn’t happen.”

He paused.

“…Or exposition, for that matter.”

He cringed, realizing he would have to make another stop on his way to that blank room he was told was used for TV commercial spots. Not that he really liked that room all too much, but he had a job to do.

“Looks like you might be staying with me a little longer,” the Repairman sighed, looking back at Doris.

“Eh,” she replied, nonchalantly, “I get paid by the minute anyhow. Speaking a which, you’re nearin’ six minutes.”

The Repairman, still lacking his previous times, had no clue how to react to that.

“Guess it’s pretty universal then!”

Scratch was going to say more, until he had been interrupted by the wheezing of the toon’s stopwatch. Now, even for living in such a toony world, that was a new one for a stopwatch. Usually they were oversized cuckoo birds. He had one once, actually. But sadly, it’d been destroyed one afternoon by anyone-could-guess-who.

“WO-HO-HOAH! What’s all that for?”

“Huh?”

The Repairman, having seen practically every artistic walk of life, found it easy to forget that others often have not. However, as he turned around, he noticed Scratch eying his watch.

“Oh, this?” he asked, holding it up so the Badnik could have a better look. “This is just a stopwatch I rented–”

The stopwatch coughed again, this time in annoyance.

“–temporarily hired to help me see if this shortcut works out. Sorry, Doris.”

Doris only let out a small “hmph” in response.

“Aha,” the Repairman continued, somewhat embarrassed, “I’m just so used to using inanimate tools…”

“Hah, really? Pretty classic stuff where I’m from, bah-hah-ha-haaa!”

After he’d stopped his odd chicken-y laughing, he also looked over at the painted wall.

It was his best one yet. He’d recently been thinking about getting into digital art, but… All of those programs crashed so much… Traditional art couldn’t crash, but it certainly could get ruined… Oh well. An arm for an arm.

“It’s certainly not the only trick I know, though!”

“Is it?” the Repairman asked. “Well, it’s classic here, too!”

He wasn’t too surprised that Scratch considered it classic. Many Toons were aware of this kind of gag. Even if those same Toons fell for it several times.

“If all your tricks are that classic,” he said, cheerfully, “you should fit right in here.”

Suddenly, the stopwatch coughed at him meaningfully. Taking the hint, the Repairman pulled a blue toolbox from the bottom shelf of his cart and began rummaging for his clipboard. He was pretty sure he still had time, but it’d be good to check…

“I’ve heard that that ‘New York’ place is a real mess a lot of the time! Does it ever stay not-a-mess?“

He took the Repairman’s hand and shook it gently. A thought bubbled in the back of his mind that handshakes were weird, but he ignored it.

Fourth Wall repairman? If he’s piecing things together right, Sketch Lampoon’s comics have probably gotten a lot of visits from this fella.

“My name’s Scratch! Nice to meetcha!”

“Likewise,” the Repairman said. “And I don’t think they do.”

He couldn’t remember visiting an uneventful New York. Sure, some were calmer than others, but all the ones the inkblot visited had something going on.

He looked back up at the wall Scratch had duped him with moments before. There was still a splotch where the Repairman made impact, but it was still a decent painting.

“Pretty nice trick for someone new to Toontown,” he remarked.

“W-worse? Where’ve you BEEN where there’s worse?”

This chicken wasn’t exactly used to multiple realities. Had he forgotten about that time he’d met a literal extraterrestrial prince? Perhaps he had, magnets are never good for any sort of drive, and the gravity plate certainly was no exception.

“You must get around a lot! Or are you just naturally around when there’s chaos?”

“Well,” the Repairman began, still in the mindset of the Fourth Wall, “there was that one empty office, that one lot in Burbank, several New Yorks…”

He trailed off, realizing it would take forever.

“…You could say that. It keeps me busy, that’s for sure.”

He extended a hand.

“I’m the Fourth Wall Repairman. And you are…?”

Of course, he immediately realized introducing himself could be an issue, but it was too late to back out now.

“Yeah! Sonic! That pesky little guy. It’s really nuts how much destruction can come from a rodent only as big as that.”

If you think Sonic’s bad, you should meet Stitch, Scratch. Probably still only half the size and many many times more destructive. Entire cities!

“Wait, really? But how? I doubt I’ve seen you around before. Maybe I have and I just don’t remember… Oh, oh, do you like, wipe people’s memories of you after you’ve met or something? Those kinda guys give me the creeps.”

The mechanical bird shivered slightly.

“I’ve seen worse,” the Repairman said, thinking about Sonic’s Fourth Wall breaking (his main frame of reference for folks he hasn’t met), “but he can be an issue.”

The inkblot realized he shouldn’t have said anything as he listened to the chicken’s confusion. Though he did have a quiet chuckle at the “memory erasing” theory. First time he heard of that…or was it?

“You…” he ventured, trying to think of how to say this, “probably haven’t seen me. I only ever passed by, really, but I’ve seen you here and there.”

“Guess I should’ve brought a helmet. Or maybe I should remember I can tuck my head in like a weird turtle.”

He watched the cart pop back into its normal shape almost as if nothing had happened.

“So what’s gotcha wanderin’ around a back alley like this? Also, where’re ya from? I’m tryin’ to kinda avoid someone, a certain blue hedgehog… Howsabout you?”

The Repairman looked up. Grey clouds completely covered the sky. Here in ToonTown, where Toons everywhere came to meet, that could mean anything, from rain, to thunder, to tornadoes, to frogs falling from the sky.

“You’d probably be right to,” he said, pulling a rainbow umbrella from behind his back. He kept it ready as he listened to the chicken.

“Oh, I don’t know where I’m from,” he replied, casually, “and I was just looking for shortcu–”

His eyes snapped back to the robot in surprise.

“Wait, Sonic?”

He peered at the other for a moment.

“Yeah,” he finally decided, “I think I’ve seen you once or twice.”

He was still debating whether, since he usually arrived after a fourth wall break, he should admit he seldom saw this Badnik in one piece.

“Seriously, though, are you ok? That looked kinda nasty.”

He looked at the odd inkblob toon. He’d maybe seen something like this back on Mobius, and maybe once or twice before while traveling. Before he could say anything else, the Repairman’s stopwatch clonked the bird lightly on his head and proceeded to fall right onto the Repairman.

“Ah! Geez, if I had a mobium for every time somethin’ hit my head…”

He grumbled, making sure his noggin was still in working order before returning to the inky fellow he’d successfully pranked.

The Repairman gave the bot an odd look. Was he new here?

“Um, yeah. I’m fine.”

The watch landed on his stomach with a soft squishing sound. He noticed it was still ticking. Wondering how much time he was saving, he moved towards his cart, which had folded like an accordion in the crash.

“Yeah, well, that’s ToonTown for ya,” he replied absently as he climbed onto the cart. He grunted as he pushed at the sides of it. Soon enough, it popped back into its regular shape (save a few dents).