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The man who had appeared in his office from seemingly nowhere looked disheveled and rain-soaked, clutching a briefcase like his life depended on it. Bertrum raised a brow, calmly glancing around the man towards the exit even as he considered calling the police. His late caller looked towards the carefully pinned charts and diagrams adorning his walls, seeming to (wisely) decide against shaking off the wet and instead choosing to step forward.
“I know it’s late, but this is important! I have a business proposal!” He exclaimed, holding out the briefcase. “Before you go, I have some great ideas, and I just need another great man of action to help me execute them.”
“Sir,” Bertrum sighed softly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Joey Drew, Mr. Piedmont.”
“…Mr. Drew. I am a very busy man. I do not have the time nor the patience to field inquiries from every man that hauls themselves out from the gutter. In your case, it seems literally.”
Where Bertrum expected to see offense, Joey replied with an increased determination. “It’s a serious proposal!” He replied, pulling the briefcase back to himself to fumble with the lock. “I had my accountant draw up the numbers, and I have some preliminary sketches, AND reviews from the media to show we’re on an upward trend of popularity. We’re going to be big, and I promise you, the idea I have is sound and profitable. I want to build a park based on my cartoons. A theme park!”
“A theme park.” Bertrum’s flat reply matched the deadpan look on his face as papers were thrust into his hands. Joey just grinned at him.
“Bendyland!” He proudly replied, “Catchy, isn’t it? Just imagine, a theme park based on the comics and cartoons of the little devil darling. There’s already interest because the show is on air, the comics on shelves. Bendy is a hit, and with Bendyland, you could meet him in person! You could partake in rides based on the existing world, take them even further!”
The park designer had to admit, his interest was piqued. He kept it quiet, but when he glanced down at the papers again, he gave them an actual, serious glance. The man had a knack for ideas, and a lot of them. The way Joey spoke, it was like the park already existed and was popular beyond their wildest imaginations. He let him prattle on while he flipped to the numbers drawn up for the proposal by a Mr. Cohen, most likely the aforementioned accountant.
The scoff silenced Joey immediately.
“Mr. Drew, I do admire your vision— you’ll go far with it I’m sure— but I do not work for peanut shells. An animator’s budget may work in your industry, but it does not in mine.” He offered back the papers, watching him flush dark with embarrassment.
“Well… that was-“ Joey stumbled over his thoughts, only taking back the numbers paper, leaving Bertrum awkwardly holding the sketches. “That was just a preliminary idea. You of course would get better than that!”
The man turned away from him, fumbling with more paper. Bertrum sighed, tapping the back of his fountain pen against the wood of his desk. “If we’re quite done here,” he began again, startling Joey from his search, “I do wish to be home at a reasonable hour.”
An uncomfortable moment of silence passed once more before either of them spoke.
“I get it,” Joey chuckled. When he turned back to face him, the change in expression caught Bertrum off guard. “This is a challenge to take on. Amusement is a hard business to be in, let alone thrive in for as long as you have. You are world-renowned for thriving in it, in fact. You get theme parks all the time. But this? Bendyland? It’s different, I promise you.”
He set down one last sketch in front of him, a potential design for a sign for the park. “Bendyland… is another world entirely. It will entertain children and adults alike, with all the joy that entails. Humor me a moment, Mr. Piedmont. Imagine your youth. Imagine all the little things that seemed larger than life to young eyes and pure hearts. Capture that wonder and put it on a page. Then, tell me what you see.”
Bertrum rolled his eyes, but there was something in the earnest stare directed his way that kept him from bidding another firm goodnight. He obliged him, closing his eyes.
“Give me one memory. Any memory. One thing that still sticks with you is all I ask. A little bit of magic.”
The man noted the distinct scratch of pencil on paper, most likely to take notes.
“...The Chicago World’s Fair,” he quietly replied, letting the rhythmic sounds of the pencil turn the clock back decades. “I was 15. It was… beautiful. Art and Architecture, innovation and celebration, all in one place. The river was dotted with ships of all shapes, sizes, and designs. I remember being entranced by the buildings more than anything. Grandiose. Awe-inspiring. Historic elegance melding with the trappings of modernity in breathtaking harmony. I knew then and there that I wanted to be an architect. Turning that ambition to amusement soon followed, but first… it was the love of the buildings.”
When he opened his eyes again, a new sketch replaced the sign, and Joey watched him for his reaction with a soft smile. It was a ride, that much was obvious. Joey had taken the liberty of titling it, ‘rivers of progress’. Buildings lined the waterway, each a different, beautiful style progressing through the ages. A child sat in a small boat, taking in the beauty with wonder in his eyes. How he managed to capture so much in so little time, he could not fathom.
“What is a dream but a loving rendition of a memory, Mr. Piedmont? You’ve captured your wonder with your parks. I’ve captured it with my cartoons. I think together, we could make something truly incredible. A colossal wonder, if you will.”
Under Bertrum’s slightly stunned gaze, Joey gathered his papers. Even with the haphazard way he collected them, there was a strange reverence to the way he put them away.
“But I guess I’ll leave that up to you. Thank you for your time, sir.” With one more nod and smile, he left.
Despite Bertrum’s insistence on leaving not 15 minutes earlier, he slowly sank back in his chair as the door clicked shut. His gaze drifted down to the sketch left behind, lingering on the little added details far longer than he cared to admit. Then, he spotted it. In very small print next to the man’s signature was a series of numbers, presumably the studio’s phone number. He scoffed once more at the cheek, at the assumption that he’d be looking so closely at the sketch that he would even notice that number. Still, he had to admire the brazen confidence the man had in his vision.
—
Joey startled from sleep to the sound of ringing from the corner of the room. He pushed away any papers that had stuck to his face (the unfortunate side effect of falling asleep at work), and quickly answered the phone. The voice on the other end offered no greeting and no introduction.
“...I’ll be over tomorrow for further negotiations.”
Bertrum thankfully did not hear Joey’s celebratory noises when he hung up.