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The Warners sat together on the couch. It wasn’t their couch, but rather one made to look exactly like it, as they were currently on the set of their show filming for season 3. All three lounged casually, reading the scripts in their hands. As he read, Yakko’s brow furrowed.
“Uhhhhh, hey, pal?” He called out, looking straight into the eyes of the episode’s director. “Who wrote this schlock? You know we can’t say this.”
“Oh, for God’s sake…” The director sighed, putting a hand to his forehead. “You’ve been pulling this crap all day. Just read the damn script, get the scene done, and then we can wrap for the day.”
“Look, buddy,” Yakko snarked, “I thought the jokes about Wakko’s smell were already laying it on pretty thick.”
“Although he could afford to bathe more often…” Dot added.
“But this is just too much.” Yakko continued. “Saying our act would be better off without him?”
“Yeah, we could never do without Wakko.” Dot agreed. “He’s an integral part of our shtick. And he’s a pretty decent brother, too. I’d never celebrate him dying. Don’t you guys know the first thing about us? After all this time?”
“I don’t give a damn what you think about the lines.” The director responded, coldly. “Our writers are some of the best in the business, they know what’s funny. They know what’s best for the show. You’re contracted to read the lines as they’re written, and that’s what you’re gonna do. I don’t want to hear anymore pointless complaints.”
Wakko observed the argument quietly. When he read the lines for the first time, of course he had heard them in his siblings’ voices, and even hearing it echo around his imagination terrified him. It was something straight out of his worst nightmares, where his siblings would finally admit they didn’t want him around all along and abandon him forever, laughing as they did it. He was never truly worried, though. He knew his sibs would stick up for him like they always did. Thankfully, he’d never have to hear these lines in real life.
“We’re not gonna do it.” Yakko shot back, crossing his arms defiantly. “You can’t make us say this garbage. We’ll sit here as long as it takes for you to realize that.”
“I can’t make you say it, huh?” The director looked up, a dark expression crossing his face. “What about director’s privilege?”
A hush fell across the room as every member of the crew paused, wondering if they had heard correctly.
“Director’s privilege?” Yakko echoed, his eyes widening as he sat up straight. “That’s barbaric, everyone agrees. It hasn’t been used in decades. They don’t even write it into new toon contracts.”
“But your contracts aren’t new, are they?” The director smiled sinisterly. “They’re a hundred years old.”
“Yakko, what’s director’s-” Wakko tried to ask, but he was cut off by a gesture from Yakko. He was growing increasingly worried over his big brother’s nervous demeanor.
“You can’t use director’s privilege.” Yakko stated, defiantly. “Everyone here knows you won’t. You're not gonna fool us into saying these lines.”
The director stepped backwards to his director’s chair, planting himself in front of it. He had reached his limit. He’d been battling with these pesky, idiot kids all day, trying to get them to stick to reading their simple, straightforward lines. He’d had enough. He didn’t care about the consequences.
“I can’t use director’s privilege?" He asked, toying with his prey. "Hmm, how does it go again? I have to be sitting in a director’s chair, right?” The director glared maliciously at the siblings, taking an emphatic seat in the chair behind him. Yakko’s heart dropped. This guy wasn’t actually crazy enough to do it, right? He glanced desperately at his siblings, who both seemed clueless over what was about to happen.
“Sibs.” He said, urgently, no longer hiding the worry in his voice. He grabbed their hands, trying to lead them away from the couch. “Sibs, I think we need to-”
He was cut off by the director’s words, uttered through gritted teeth.
“I. Invoke. Director’s. Privilege.”
Yakko froze. Wakko froze. Dot froze. The words rung in their ears, vibrating down through the very cells that made up their inky bodies. It was a natural impulse they couldn’t stop. There was no way they could resist.
One by one, the Warners made their way back to the couch, sitting in their positions for the scene. They didn’t say a word or make any unscripted movements. Their faces were uncannily frozen, slightly smiling as their unblinking eyes stared off into the distance. Their minds were in the process of being locked into an inescapable prison. All three of them silently panicked. The younger siblings had no idea what was going on, trying desperately to regain control of their own limbs, but it was no use. The director, still grinning widely, savagely, held up his clapperboard. Everyone on set watched in silence, shocked at what was happening before them.
“Action.” The director called, the clap from his board booming through the rafters.
Immediately, the Warners sprung to life, acting out the script exactly as it was written. Wakko froze into his vacant, brain-fried stare, his tongue sticking out of his gaping mouth. Yakko inspected his sibling’s face, his body being made to wave his hand in front of Wakko’s empty eyes.
“Well,” Yakko spoke, “I guess it’s finally happened. They’ve slashed the budget so much that they can only afford to animate the two-”
On the inside, Yakko’s mind fought a ferocious battle as his mouth spoke against his will. The body control was inhumane enough, but that wasn’t the worst part. No, what made director’s privilege truly barbaric was what it did to a toon’s mind. They melded into the part, truly feeling what they were meant to be feeling in the script, their minds acting as if they were really, truly in the scene. Yakko fought it desperately, his conscious mind screaming and clawing to retake control and avoid being dragged into the depths. It was no use. He felt the last vestiges of his true self slipping away as his lips continued to move.
“Well, I’ll say it. The two best siblings.”
“Tragic.” Dot lamented, sarcastically, her body becoming unfrozen as it finally entered the scene. “But, we can’t mourn forever.” She jumped up enthusiastically.
“I’ve always thought this would work better as a two-hander, anyway.” Yakko agreed.
Yeah. Yakko thought, inside. We never needed Wakko. Useless to the act. He had always felt this way, he knew. He couldn’t figure out why they had bothered keeping their middle sibling around for so long in the first place. What did he really add?
“Agreed.” Dot said. Honestly, she was glad the animators had stopped bothering to waste any budget on her immediate older brother. Wasn’t one big brother enough? What did a second Warner Brother really add to their dynamic? She went on to describe the role she could play in their new and improved show, with her as an astrophysicist and Yakko as her manservant. Yes, that sounded much better.
Yakko opened his mouth to speak, but Dot shushed him. At that moment, the TV blared, signifying the end of the video game’s current match. Wakko shook his head, coming back to consciousness. Dot and Yakko felt their hearts drop.
“Oh.” Dot said, disappointed. “Wakko’s alive. Hooray.”
Damn. She thought. Just when we thought we got rid of him…
Yakko felt similarly. Well, he couldn’t say he really wished his little brother was gone, but it did feel oh-so-liberating for those few seconds of fantasy. They’d have so much more creative freedom, such a quicker collective wit, if only Wakko was gone. Oh well.
The siblings continued, acting out the entire scene up until the part when they got sucked into the TV. Their director watched in glee, pleased at just how much easier this was than battling back and forth with the Warners’ stubborn wills. Their acting was so much better, too. He felt a pang of disappointment when the scene came to an end. He would never experience such bliss again.
“Cut!” He yelled. The Warners, standing by the fake television, all blinked. Slowly, their real minds floated back to the surface, the scripted thoughts and feelings disappearing into the void. All three of them were extremely dazed.
“Well,” the director spoke, “that wasn’t so bad, was it? See how easy it can be when you just go along with the script?”
The siblings continued to recover, shaking their heads as they felt their conscious minds retaking the reigns. As soon as they realized what was going on, what had just happened, their hearts shattered. They remembered everything.
“Wakko!” Yakko and Dot yelled, piling onto him in a tight comforting embrace. Wakko, taking just a second longer to return to the land of the living, held onto them with his arms. He tried to stay strong. He knew it wasn’t their fault, and the effect of director’s privilege meant he barely heard what they said. He was supposed to be unconscious, after all, in the scene. Unfortunately, he had heard it. And boy, was it painful.
Wakko shuddered as his siblings did the same, trying to process all the emotions he was experiencing. He felt the tears welling into his eyes, but he was determined not to cry in front of that evil man. Yakko and Dot didn’t fare any better, tears openly rolling down their cheeks as they held onto their brother tightly.
“I’m so sorry, Wakko.” Yakko apologized, desperately. “I didn’t mean any of it. Not a single word. We love you, buddy. We love you so much.”
Yakko stroked the back of his little brother’s head. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help but feel overwhelming guilt for the words he had said, for the emotions he had genuinely experienced. Never before had he known what it felt like to not just feel indifferent towards one of his siblings, but to actually wish they were gone. Now he did, and it hurt so bad. Even as a memory.
“Yakko, what was that?” Dot sniffled, still holding on tight to the sibling pile. “I actually felt it… those awful thoughts… I really wanted him gone…” On saying those words, she began to cry even harder. Yakko’s eyes narrowed.
“That,” he said, standing up to face the director, “was director’s privilege.”
Every crew member on set watched the Warners with fascination and surprise, shocked at the real devastation the zany children were showing. Even the director couldn’t help but feel surprised, whatever was left of his conscience sending him pangs of guilt as he wondered if he really had done the right thing. His ego quickly stepped in, quieting the thoughts of self-doubt and turning the blame onto anyone but himself.
“Oh, get over it!” He dismissed the Warners with a swipe of his hand. “You had to say some lines you didn’t like, big deal, wah wah.” The director wiped his eyes in mock sadness. The room remained silent, everyone now staring at him. He looked around and frowned, putting his arms out in disbelief. Why was he being made out as the bad guy here? His anger turning on them, the director turned to face the crew. “All of you should listen to me very carefully. If word of this ever leaves this room, and I mean ever, you won’t just be off this set. You’ll be out of Hollywood, for good! You understand me?”
Yakko looked around at the doubtful faces, hoping for once that any of the humans would grow a spine and step forward to back his family up. None of them dared take the risk. Huffing indignantly, he picked his little siblings up in his arms and ran out of the building, making a beeline straight for their solitary tower.
Hours later, Yakko sat on the couch, their real couch, hands on his knees and eyes locked on the floor before him. Undergoing director’s privilege was a harrowing experience. He had lost control over his own body, over his own mind. Worst of all, he kept all the memories. He knew what it felt like to be a different Yakko, one who didn’t value his little brother, one who saw him as a target to pick on more than someone to love. He desperately wished he could reach into his heart and tear it all out, the memories, the feelings. He wanted them gone.
They would never be gone. No matter how much he wished he could, he would never forget. Every time he loved his siblings, saw Wakko’s face, memories of that horrible time would flash by in the back of his mind, build up a mental roadblock for him to overcome. He wondered if he would ever be the same again.
He had tried his best to set things right. His mind flashed back to the conversation he had with Nora an hour earlier.
“I want him gone.” He had demanded, pushing his finger on the CEO’s desk.
“Really.” She responded, skeptically. “You come in here asking me to believe that one of our highest paid, most experienced directors invoked some wacky illegal ritual from the 1930’s, and you don’t have anyone who can back you up on that?”
“He threatened them!” Yakko pleaded, desperately. “Please, Nora, look into it. We’ll never bother you again. Just do this one thing for us. Please.”
She turned him down. Said there wasn’t enough evidence. Was his out-of-character begging not evidence enough? He had prostrated himself for nothing.
Yakko looked behind him at where Wakko sat on Dot’s bed. His little brother preferred to lay there instead of his hammock sometimes. Dot usually kicked him off the second she saw it, but not today. She sat at the kitchen counter, watching Yakko watch Wakko. They locked eyes, coming to a silent agreement.
Dot and Yakko climbed up the bunk, sitting together on the edge of Dot’s bed as Wakko laid on his back, deep in thought. His tongue hung out passively and his hands were clasped on his belly, rising and falling with the slow rhythm of his breathing. He stared unblinkingly at the top of the bunk.
“How ya holding up?” Yakko asked, gently.
“I’m fine.” He said, with an even tone. “I know you couldn’t help it.”
“That’s what you’ve been saying, but…,” Yakko paused and took a breath, “are you sure you’re okay? Like really okay? We’re here for you, whatever you want to say. Even if you want to yell at us and get it all out. We’d deserve it.”
Wakko closed his eyes tightly. His pace of breathing quickened, and a few seconds later he let out a whimper, his lip starting to quiver. His siblings instantly jumped to his side, pressing him in to a tight sibling sandwich. He turned and buried his head into Yakko’s chest, sobbing at full force.
“It’s okay, Wakko.” Yakko comforted. “We’re so sorry. You didn’t deserve this.”
“It… it’s just, I can still hear it.” Wakko cried, his voice muffled. “I know you didn’t mean to say it, but it was your voices… saying you didn’t want me…”
“I know. I know.” Yakko soothed. “We’d never get rid of you, Wakko.”
“We wouldn’t know what to do without you.” Dot added. “We’d be totally lost.”
Yakko and Dot’s eyes watered lightly as they listened to the continued sobbing of their brother.
“It was such a nightmare.” Wakko said.
“It was.” Yakko agreed. “For all of us.”
“We need to do something!” Dot proclaimed, suddenly enraged. “Get a lawyer, call the police, I don’t know. There has to be something we can do. We can’t just let him do that to us!”
“It’s our word against theirs, sis,” Yakko said, “and no one’s ever taken the word of a toon over the word of a human.”
“So what? We let them put that on TV, make the world think we’re everything we’re not? It’s not right.”
“It’s not right.” Yakko agreed. “But they aren’t going to start caring about that now.”
Dot let out a deep breath, the impossibility of the situation weighing down on her. She was a fighter to the core, not willing to ever let anyone get one over on her or her family, but there truly was no way out of this one. All she could do was hug Wakko tighter. Maybe, if she squeezed hard enough, she’d forget how empty she felt when she was happy to have him gone.