A Toony Kind of Love

Chapter 2 - Toons...

(Quick A/N, I gave (Y/N) glasses. I don't know why really, I just felt like it suited the story. Anyway, enjoy!)

...

"Alright. That's the shot." One of the stagehands called to the crew while the director angrily stormed over to Roger.

"Cut, cut, cut, cut, CUT!" He yelled repeatedly as he threw the script to the floor, glaring down at poor Roger, who shifted guiltily inside the fridge.

"What the hell was wrong with that take?" Baby Herman yelled, his voice changing and seemingly now more suited for a forty-year-old, balding man rather than a tiny, Toon baby, as he stood up to angrily stare up at the director.

Raoul, the director, got down on his knees as he explained, "Nothing with you, Baby Herman. You were great. You were perfect. You were better than perfect. It's Roger. He keeps blowing his lines!" He then turned to Roger, grabbing one of the birds that flew around his head and gestured with it. "Roger...what's this?"

"A tweeting bird." He answered as innocently as he could.

"A tweeting bird?" Raoul asked as he threw the bird to the side and picked up the script, showing it to Roger. "Roger, read the script. Look what it says. It says 'Rabbit gets clunked. Rabbit sees stars.' Not birds, STARS!"

The whole time Raoul chewed out the poor rabbit, Baby Herman was throwing a silent fit in the background, complete with angry mouthing and bawled-up fists swinging around in the air. This was an indication that something like this wasn't the only occurrence to take place. And, by the annoyed, frustrated, and tired looks of the rest of the crew, this observation was not exactly proven untrue.

"Can we lose the playback, please?" Raoul asked, making the cartoony music in the background get shut off as he turned back to Roger. "Roger, you're killing me! Killing me!"

He walked off in anger, unable to look at the frustrating rabbit any longer while Baby Herman finally decided to loudly voice his own thoughts.

"For crying out loud, Roger! How the hell many times do we have to do this damn scene? Raoul! I'll be in my trailer! Taking a nap!"

The baby stormed away, walking under a woman's skirt making her squeal in shock.

"'Scuse me, toots."

"My stomach can't take this. This set is a mess! Clean this set up! And get him out of there! Or seal him up in it. Lose the lights! And say lunch!"

"Lunch!"

The crew began to pack up the set and head out at Raoul's orders. The director picked up his jacket, already leaving but Roger quickly jumped out of the fridge and chased after him.

"Pl-pl-please, Raoul. I can give you stars. Just drop the refrigerator on my head one more time." 

"Roger, I've dropped it on your head twenty-three times already!"

"I can take it, don't worry about me!" Roger begged, grabbing onto the sleeve of Raoul's jacket.

"I'm not worried about you, I'm worried about the refrigerator." He answered, rather harshly, yanking his jacket away and continued storming off.

In desperation, Roger chased after him, grabbing a pan from a prop crate as he pleaded, "I can give you stars. Look!"

He banged the pan against his head, this time producing a bunch of squiggles and shapes - not stars.

"Look!"

He banged the pan against his head again, producing ringing bells - but still there were no stars.