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Oswald ran through crowded Mean Street, barely acknowledging other toons' greetings due to his attempt to get to his destination timely. He made sure not to accidentally bump into anyone or any tools (placed out in the open due to constructions on the new buildings, of course!), knowing that he would disrupt the citizens if he did so. It was a curious sight to those who saw him pass by because though it was often you'd see him in Mean Street, it wasn't every day he would be heading down at this speed. In fact, the only time he ever did go at this speed was when a new citizen arrived in Wasteland.
And that was exactly why he was speeding down the street. News had gathered that not one, not two, but four new citizens had arrived in Wasteland. Knowing how their confusion must be eating at them, the rabbit didn't want to waste any time getting to them. But he was only so fast, and it didn't help that apparently these new people had arrived in a less populated area of the town.
Though, with persistence such as his, it didn't take long for him to get to the area. The forestry they arrived in layed on the outskirts of Mean Street, where nothing had yet been built. Due to the rather dense population of trees, it took him longer than he would have liked to get there. After following the sound of a strange, loud hum—like the hum of multiple hummingbirds flapping their wings—he saw the new people’s silhouettes. He stopped for a moment, away from the field of vision of the others to catch his breath for a moment.
"Hello!" he called out, approaching these new people. They each turned around, letting him observe them closer. They were unlike any toons he had ever seen, and he had seen many in his life. They all looked the same—the only differing thing being the colour of their skin and clothes. Each of them wore a jumper, a backpack, a helmet, and gloves. He smiled at them, "I'm Oswald, the King of Wasteland. I don't eva' recall seein' any merch from ya before..." his smile faltered for a moment; he hoped that he wasn't making any incorrect observations. "I'm assumin' you were background characters for one of ‘d mouse's shorts?"
The four exchanged looks among each other before one of the purple ones, with a thick French accent, spoke up. "Non. Who is ‘deh mouse?’"
That was a surprise to him; not every day did someone come here that wasn’t meant to be part of one of the mouse’s cartoons. “Oh, don’t worry ‘bout him! He’s just the new latest, greatest cartoon,” the last few words came out in a harsher tone. He shook the thought off and put his hand out to the one who spoke up first. "Can I ask what ya name is? ’N ya species? I ain't eva' seen somethin’ like ya before, so I'm just curious.”
The person grinned, shaking his hand, despite his hand being significantly smaller than the rabbit's. "Gremlin Jamface. And next to me is…" he turned around, pointing to each of the people as he named them, "Gremlin Copernicus, Gremlin Sparks, and Gremlin Mysterius. We are, as you guess, gremlins!"
"Gremlins... I've neva heard of ya before. Pretty cool though, if I say so myself!" with a confirming grin, he continued, "Say, why doncha follow me? I can show ya around; talk while we walk, y'know? I‘ll tell ya why you're here, I’m sure ‘ur confused!"
The gremlin shook his head disapprovingly, leading to the rabbit’s confusion. "We have to wait for them," Gremlin Jamface said, his finger pointing above the trees. Oswald pulled back to scratch his head, his bewilderment not going unnoticed. “We’ll meet you above de trees,” the gremlin said without clarifying, and one by one the gremlins suddenly vanished.
And so, not knowing what else to do, the rabbit made his way up the trees, until he eventually reached the top. He pulled himself on top of the leaves, finding dozens of gremlins flying around. Most of them were short, but a few taller ones could be seen among the crowd. They all wore the same outfits like the ones he saw earlier, but again, in various different colours. The smaller ones had their feet flapping fast enough to keep their small frames afloat, while the tall ones bore large wings. Oswald stood dumbfounded, not knowing what to say.
A gremlin he did not recognise saw and flew over to him, a cocky smile on his face, “You look rather surprised.”
“There’s, uh…” Oswald continued looking around wide-eyed, “a lot more of ya than I expected. We don’t have enough housin’ for y’guys, ‘t say the least.”
“That’s fine! Just keep in mind there are more of us than just this.”
“Wh-Wait, huh?” Oswald blurted out before another gremlin appeared. This one had dark green skin and a warm red-orange suit. He looked slightly different than the rest of the gremlins—a white mustache sat on his face, and a small, brown bowler cap was placed upon his right horn.
“Oh, don’t mind Prescott,” the new gremlin said, “You’re King Oswald, correct?”
“...Right, that’d be me. Whas’ your name?” he asked, attempting to start the chain of introductions.
“Gremlin Gus. I’m what they’d call the leader of these fellas.”
“Well, okay, Gus,” Oswald started, the reality of the situation finally hitting him, “I d—...we don’t exactly have enough housin’ for ya folks, or room in town really. I can see if I can find a place for ya guys in other parts of this place, though?”
“No worries, we’re already a few steps ahead of you. The willing gremlins and fifinellas were sent out to scout.”
“The gremlins and the who?”
“Fifinellas, our female counterpart. You can tell the difference between them and us gremlins—they are much taller than us, and—”
“W—How many didja send out?,” Oswald interrupted nervously, “I mean, you’re all probably confused, ‘n I don’t want no one gettin’ hurt.”
“No worries, kid,” Gus smiled reassuringly, the rabbit left with mixed feelings due to the nickname, “we’ve been in much worse. After all, we did serve in the second world war!”
“...Second?” Both of them stared confused at each other.
“You mean to tell me you don’t know about the war? Do the newspapers not deliver here?”
“Not exactly,” Oswald admitted awkwardly, “All the news we get are from new arrivals. I haven’t been in that world since the early 30s. What year is it, anyway?”
“1945. Our story got told in 1943, but we sorta phased out after the war ended.”
Oswald sighed, “Looks like we both have a lot of explainin’ ‘t do to each other.”
“Gus!,” someone called out, turning the heads of many, “we’ve jotted down a few places that might be of interest.”
Gus waved them over, presenting them to Oswald, “Here, talk to the king, he’s a better person to mention it to.”
A few of the newly arrived gremlins and fifinellas approached the two, one holding a paper with a Mickey face etched onto it. Had they gone down to the mountain that had started to adorn Mickey merchandise?
“Hello, sir,” the gremlin holding the paper presented it to Oswald, “we made a rough sketch of the place, and circled places we might be interested in living at.”
“And don’t worry about having your team build it, we are excellent builders,” another said.
“Builders? Like ya guys do construction?”
“Precisely.”
“Well, that’d be helpful,” Oswald mumbled, taking the paper from the gremlin. A vaguely accurate map was drawn, with a few places darkly circled. One stood of note to him: “The place above the ol’ bayou could work. It’s the biggest open space we got right now. Y’see, rumour goes around that my da—...that Walt Disney is buildin’ a theme park, ‘n once the map starts comin’ ‘round here imma try ‘n do a sorta replica so the people ‘ere got somethin’ ‘t do. Basically, mosta ‘d places you circled outside ‘a dat are being prepared for possible construction outside’a home buildin’. Don’t want y’fellas ‘t have ‘ur homes all intruded upon.”
“Sounds good, King Oswald! Is there any available materials?”
“Sure there is. I’ll show ya, just follow me!,” the rabbit steadily climbed his way down the trees, a dozen or so of the gremlins and fifinellas following him.
“You have big ears, can you not just fly down?” asked Gus.
“I can fly down when it’s for a gag, not for convenience. Issa cartoon thing.”
“I’m sure we could teach you.”
Oswald let out a small chuckle, “I doubt it. But it’d be nice if ya could.”
“I promise I will, then! I’m one for the impossible.”
The two shared a smile with each other, one filled with hope, and the other with a smug doubt. The rabbit held his hand out, “Ya’d shake on it?”
Gus shook his hand, “Promise. Once we get everything situated, I’ll teach you. I’m quite a good teacher.”
“Well, aren't cha just full of confidence,” he pithily laughed—partly because he knew that confidence would disappear after the reality of everything set in, and partly because he knew he couldn’t be taught that. The only person that could teach him that was Walt, who seemed to be busy with a lot of things that didn’t concern Oswald's existence.
These guys were going to be a lot of work, but they were a welcome addition. Maybe this barren land could become a beautiful place with the extra help. Oswald was quite an optimistic person after all, how could it go wrong?