Application: Calvin and Hobbes

[irrepressible-c.livejournal.com]

A cardboard box comes flying out of thin air, and lands on the pavement with a whumph, sending its occupants tumbling out. The first, a little boy with messy yellow hair, gets to his feet and dusts off the knees of his black shorts, which reach almost to the tops of his sneakers. He looks to be about six years old, and wears a red-and-black striped t-shirt and, at the moment, scuba goggles. He pushes these up onto his forehead and, with an aggrieved expression, lifts the cardboard box from off of his companion.

"Ow," comments the tiger, lying sprawled on his back. After a moment, he sits up and rubs the back of his head. "Just once, I'd like to have a non-crash landing."


"Well, how was I supposed to know that the gravitron thrusters would cut out over Montana? If that 747 hadn't...is that my sandwich you're unwrapping?"

"I need something to soothe my nerves. Anyway, they get soggy if you leave...aachkpth!" At the first bite, Hobbes peers incredulously at the sandwich in question and makes a face. He seems to be having a little difficulty opening his mouth. "What ith thith?"

"Honey, banana and marshmallow. Well, I didn't make it for you, tuna breath, I...Hey! Hey, we're here!" Calvin lets go of the box, and spreads his arms wide as he runs around in a dizzy circle. "Disneyland! Oh boy oh boy oh boy! I want a mickey hat and a frozen lemonade and a hamburger and an ice cream and fudge, and then I want to go on a fast and jolting ride designed to disorient and induce nausea..."

Catches sight of Mickey, and stops. "Oh. Hi."

Hobbes blinks at the Mouse, and after a moment leans over to whisper to Calvin, "Okay, you're right, the pants aren't cool."

Mickey coughs theatrically. "'What is your name?'"

"Calvin! And this is Hobbes."

"What is your quest?" asks the Cat. It's perched, suddenly, on the roof of one of the gate-stiles.

"Well, it was to come here. See, Dad said that Disneyland was an example of exploitative consumerism at its worst, and he liked his vacations to involve authentic experiences rather than cheap manipulation and empty calories."

"So, I invented a hyperspeed cruiser so Hobbes and I could come here ourselves." He straightens one of the flaps of the cardboard box with pride. "But now that we're here, I guess I need a new quest? Unless..."

Calvin, the bold knight, stands at the gates of the ensorcelled kingdom. His helm is black as night, and his sword gleams, polished by the blood of fallen enemies. He is the knight with no quest, in search only of another foe to conquer...

"'What is the average w..?'" Mickey frowns down at the notebook. "You know, I don't really see why that's important." He flips a page. "'If you could be granted three wishes, what would they be?'"

This is a sufficiently interesting question to jerk Calvin's attention back. "A flamethrower! And, um. Wings! And retractable claws!...no, a prehensile tail!...or...A trillion billion dollars, my own space shuttle, and a private continent."

"A sandwich that wouldn't induce diabetic shock."

"Or," the Cat says, examining its tail with interest, "if you were a genie and someone you were trying to give three wishes to was trying to trick you into giving him more, what would you say?"

"...or, maybe a pet pterodactyl, or a..."

With a wry look over at the kid, "'Your Dad will have a fit if you put a triceratops in the garage.'"

"I'd move the car first!"

Mickey looks rather nonplused at the next, but reads, "'When the revolution comes, what skills will you be able to barter for food?'"

"Skills? I have all kinds of skills! I can invent things, and I can take things apart, and I'm a great thinker and explorer and a conceptual artist and the Dictator-for-Life of the Get Rid Of Slimy girlS Club! If there's a revolution, I'll be leading it!"

The Cat rolls its eyes in a friendly (and rather disconcertingly out-of-sync) way, and asks, "Milk, dark, or white chocolate?"

"Chocolate? Really?!" How much better can this day get? "Okay, milk, I guess..." says Calvin.

"Hm, that's a tough one," says Hobbes, thoughtfully, "I think I'd have to try all three."

"Oh, hey, that's right! Yeah, I need to try all of them. A couple times to make sure."

"'Choose the two coolest: robots, pirates, fairies, bears, ninjas, monkeys, vampires, or humans,'" says Mickey, giggling a bit as he goes through the list. "'Explain.'"

Hobbes looks critical. "Why bears but not tigers?"

"I don't know, why are you asking me? Um, okay...well, robots, obviously. Fairies are for girls." He's ticking the categories off on his fingers. "Monkeys are great! Last time we went to the zoo, Dad took me to the primate palace and you wouldn't believe what this one monkey was doing! In public! Ha ha!"

"Vampires are cool too. There was a movie on last night, 'Vampire Sorority Babes,' and I wanted to watch it but Mom said no, it was on too late. And then the sound of the TV at 2 am woke her up, so we only got to watch a few minutes and it was all goofy ladies in their underwear. So maybe they're not that cool." He scowls with concentration. "Ninjas are cool! I could be a ninja."

"Aren't ninjas supposed to be move swiftly and silently through the darkness?"

"Look, it was pitch black coming out of the bathroom, and if you hadn't pounced on me, I wouldn't have yelled! Fine, you can be a ninja, then. But pirates are also cool, and anyway it's more fun to talk like a pirate. Arr! Avast, me hearties! Man the gangplank and hard to the port starboard!" He turns to open his knapsack. "I think I brought paper, I can make a hat..."

"Great!" Mickey flips through the blank pages of the notebook at top, cartoon-y speed. "Well, I think that's just about it! Oh, and I'm supposed to ask, 'for your safety: are you carrying anything sharp?'"

"Sharp? I don't think so..." Calvin begins pulling assorted items out of his knapsack - comic books, a red cape and hood, a water pistol... "Nope, nothing sharp. Unless you've got something?" He turns to Hobbes.

Hobbes grins toothily, holds up one paw, and extends his claws.

Calvin looks apprehensive for a moment, then snorts and rolls his eyes. "Show-off."


((Calvin and Hobbes, from "Calvin & Hobbes." Text in italics is exclusive to Calvin's reality - see userinfo for details, but in general assume that unless your character has access to the perceived reality of others they're only seeing/hearing the regular text.))

Comments

[sensiblesusan.livejournal.com]

Back home, Susan could be relied on by her charges to see and dispatch the bogeymen and monsters that troubled them, because unlike most governesses, she knew damn well that they existed. Because the children believed in the monsters; but just as importantly, they believed in the power of Susan and the fireplace poker to get rid of them. Children, as the incident with the Hogfather proved, are little engines of belief.

It's immediately clear to Susan that Calvin is the belief equivalent of a nuclear power station. Because how else can you explain the tiger? Susan blinks; at first glance, it's a rumpled, well-loved stuffed toy, clutched in the boy's arms. But as she looks at it, she's aware of a sleek, full-grown Bengal tiger with intelligent eyes, and also of a nearly human-sized, slightly cartoonish version of same.

"Hello there," she says to Calvin. "Your tiger is very handsome."

[irrepressible-c.livejournal.com]

Calvin heaves an exasperated sigh. "Okay, fine," he says to Hobbes, "You were right. But the goggles aren't supposed to look dashing, they're supposed to protect your eyes against dangerous omega particles during the hyperspeed flight. Girls flipping for them is beside the point."

"Maybe to you." Hobbes is smiling his best lady-killer smile, pushing the scuba goggles back onto his forehead like a WWI flying ace doing the same. "Hi."

[sensiblesusan.livejournal.com]

Susan can't help smiling; she only catches tidbits of the tiger's side of things, but she does hear his greeting. "Hello," she says to the tiger, only feeling slightly peculiar as she does so. To Calvin: "Do your parents know where you are, young man?"

Of course, she realises they undoubtedly don't, but her governessing instincts are nigh-on impossible to ignore.

[irrepressible-c.livejournal.com]

"Sure!" says Calvin, tilting his chin up and looking just a bit defiant. He's not sure exactly what he's defying, but something about that 'young man,' and the look accompanying it, makes it necessary. "I told my Mom that since she and Dad wouldn't take us to Disneyland we were going to take my hyperspeed cruiser there instead. And she said, 'that's nice.'" She'd also said 'be sure to stay in sight of the house' but this was clearly contradictory and therefore parental nonsense which could be disregarded.

[sensiblesusan.livejournal.com]

Oh, damn. Another one of those parents who underestimate the power of a child's imagination. She probably didn't believe that there were monsters under the bed or in the closet either.

"Do you do this sort of thing often?" It might explain the mother's blasé attitude if this were the case. "She'll be terribly worried if you're gone for long, you know." And judging from the utter inability of anyone to get out ... well. Unless -- and now that was an interesting idea -- what if they could somehow make use of the child's imagination to get out? A mental image of Crowley hunched up in the cardboard box crossed her mind, and she had to bite her lip to keep from snickering.

[irrepressible-c.livejournal.com]

Calvin frowns. "What do you mean, 'this kind of thing'? I've never come to Disneyland before. I did run away to the Yukon once, though, and once to the planet Mars."

"We didn't get to the Yukon, though."

"No, but that was your fault for getting in a fight with me. And then you didn't come back that night, and Mom and Dad and I had to wander around for miles and miles in the dark woods."

"I was perfectly all right. Tigers have natural wilderness skills."

[sensiblesusan.livejournal.com]

Susan knows nothing about the Yukon or Mars, but the general idea is clear enough. "You and your friend are quite well-travelled, I see," she said. "Well, listen, as long as you're here, you'll need a place to stay, somewhere safe. I'm living in Main Street, as are Alice and her guardian Mr Fell. Perhaps you'd like to stay there as well?"

Really, the urge to keep an eye on the boy is very strong; Macavity's presence worries here, and who knnows who else might show up.

[irrepressible-c.livejournal.com]

"I don't know," says Calvin, eyeing her a little suspiciously. "What's there that's interesting?"

[sensiblesusan.livejournal.com]

"Well, what sort of things do you find interesting?" Susan has a hunch that it'll be Adventureland or Tomorrowland for this one, but one has to ask.

[irrepressible-c.livejournal.com]

"Interesting things. Rides and games and building things and inventing and dinosaurs and spaceships and candy and exploring and aliens and time machines and TV and flying carpets and comic books and chewing gum and explosives and bugs and frogs and conceptual art and sculpture and flamethrowers and philosophical debate and woods that haven't been cut down by stupid people. And hills that I can ride down on my wagon or my sled, except I didn't bring either of them. I don't know if you know if I can buy one here? I've got eighty-five cents!"

[sensiblesusan.livejournal.com]

"Tomorrowland. No question about it." Susan has to smile. "And there are no lines for the rides, although -- hmm, are you tall enough for the rollercoasters?" A critical glance. "Anyhow. Now look, if there's anything you need, I'm on Main Street, at the First Aid station, all right? Even if it's just a sticking-plaster." Pause. "Or a snack for the tiger, for that matter." Another pause, and then, in a lowered voice, just for Calvin: "Or if you find any monsters under your bed. Dealing with them is one of my specialties."

Well, it can't hurt to offer. A boy who can believe in anything that strongly -- a glance again at the tiger; she likes its lazily ironic gaze, she finds -- probably has some incredible tentacular horrors under his bed on a regular basis.

[irrepressible-c.livejournal.com]

Calvin bristles at the implication that he might not be tall enough - as if he'd let that stop him, but still! And what's a sticking-plaster?

The comment about monsters makes him pause, though. "One of your specialities? What do you do to them?"

"And what kind of snacks?"

[sensiblesusan.livejournal.com]

Susan would feel silly about this if it weren't for the fact that she knew damn well this sort of thing is entirely too real for a child. So her answer is straightforward. "Depends on the monster, but muffling them in a fuzzy blanket often works. And sometimes they just need to be thumped with a fireplace poker." Glance at the tiger again. "I'm sure we can find something Hobbes would like. There's a lot of shops, restaurants, and pushcarts over on Main Street."

[irrepressible-c.livejournal.com]

Calvin takes this in. "A fuzzy blanket. But what if they're too big for a blanket? How do you get close enough to put it on them without them grabbing you with the suckers on their tentacles and dragging you into their huge and black acid-slavering maws? I mean...hypothetically." The world is sunlit now, and Calvin can't quite believe that there will be monsters at Disneyland.

[sensiblesusan.livejournal.com]

"That's what the fireplace poker is for," Susan says, smiling, although at the same time she's thinking, Acid-slavering? Oh dear gods. I'm going to have my work cut out for me with this one.