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Ever since the Gardenview Educational Centre opened up to the idea of pulling Toons from their cartoon into the real world, new friends appeared every few months. Usually, they were recognised by the existing Toons and fell right into place—even if it was hard to adapt.
When toons were created, they retained memories of their lives on the shows. They remembered what their hobbies were and who their friends were. It was as though they were pulled directly from the cartoon itself. Maybe they were. No staff ever explained it to them. Maybe even the staff didn’t know.
While, in some ways, remembering who they were was helpful for settling into their new environment, it was also a painful reminder of what they were missing. It was a painful reminder that they would never get that back.
It hurt a lot of toons, especially those who lost friends or family. Scraps and Goob didn’t come into the real world at the same time; they were separated by a few months. Scraps didn’t adjust well at all. She took it out on the handlers, yelling and harassing anyone who dared to try and calm her down. Toons never tried to get in between those kinds of outbursts. They knew on a deep level that it wouldn’t help because they had lost that before.
Never before had a toon been transported that didn’t have a background in the cartoon, so when Toodles was introduced one day and she didn’t recognise anyone, it was terrifying.
She hid behind her handler, terrified of where she was and who she was. Why were there these giant creatures watching over them? Why didn’t she know anyone? Who was she?
She was told her name was Toodles and that she was a Toon, but was she? No one knew her, and she knew no one.
The first to even approach Toodles was Goob, his sweet, caring attitude getting the better of him as usual. He tried to comfort the child, but to no avail. Instead of accepting his hugs and candies, Toodles kicked him away, scared and confused as to why a stranger was approaching her.
No one even knew how old she was, only that she was a child and the first child to be pulled from their cartoon world. No one knew how to take care of a child, and many were too scared to even go near her for fear of scaring her or getting hurt like Goob did.
Days passed, and Toodles often kept to herself, away from other toons. She stayed apprehensive, only speaking unless spoken to by staff. Though, with those limited interactions, it was clear she was young, maybe a few years into school age. She was intelligent despite her naiveté.
She spent her time doing little puzzles, putting together jigsaws, and doing word puzzles that were supplied to her. She hadn’t yet been introduced into the world of voice acting for the show, still spending her time alone.
For the most part, everyone ignored her.
Although one toon in particular had an interest in the young toon.
Rodger wasn’t particularly fond of children, even in the cartoon world they originated from. Moreso, he found them to get in the way of his investigations. They were easy to work around, though, and getting information out of them was just as easy. But Toodles intrigued him.
Why did the humans want a child from their universe, and why didn’t he recognise her? He thought he knew every toon back in the cartoon, and he certainly knew every one of them now that they were thinned down to less than fifty. But when he tried to think of any pool ball-themed toons, he couldn’t think of any. Not even some that could possibly be Toodles’ parents.
So, he approached her one day, offering a box of different puzzles, both mind puzzles and jigsaws. They were from his own collection that he had to keep his mind sharp, though he didn’t use many of them anymore. He only knew to present them to her through digging and prying into documents.
Toodles was apprehensive at first, eyeing the new presents like they would jump out and hurt her. Rodger even opened the boxes up to show Toodles what they were. He showed how some of the mind puzzles worked, and a couple of them he even solved for her.
She loved them, and Rodger seemed to be the first toon she actually trusted. Rodger couldn’t help but be flattered by the sentiment. Maybe children weren’t as bad as he thought they were.
In fact, he was so preoccupied with teaching Toodles some tricks that he forgot to question her, and by the time he did remember, he was already gone.
The next day was a little tea party that he had promised to attend with Teagan, although they were the only two there.
They were the oldest toons in Gardenview, and they tended to get along just fine. They weren’t romantically interested, even if other toons suggested it, but they did enjoy each other’s presence. Rodger easily considered her his friend, and he didn’t feel he had to question them.
“I saw you were talking with Toodles yesterday,” Teagan spoke, calm and even as they poured herself and Rodger a cup of minty herbal tea.
Rodger hummed in acknowledgement, taking a sip and closing his eyes. “I suppose I was,” he uttered. “Why do you bring it up?”
Teagan gave him a look, sympathetic and caring. “No one’s been able to get close to her other than her handler. But you were able to go up to her just like that.” She explained calmly, voice low. “I worry about that girl. She’s just a child.”
“She seems to be about six to eight.” The magnifying glass explained, “She enjoys puzzles. And she’s very intelligent for her age.”
“That sounds familiar.”
Rodger narrowed his eye, looking at Teagan. “What does that mean?”
Teagan giggled softly, waving a hand in dismissal. “Nothing, dear. I just mean that you two seem to get along. Besides, you've said you didn’t like children before. What changed?”
Rodger thought about that; his eye narrowed in thought as he took a sip of his tea. He wasn’t sure what was different. It was like some sort of connection. Maybe he did see himself in her.
“I just want to find out where she came from,” Rodger explained slowly, dismissing the thought of growing attached to a child. He didn’t need a child to get in the way of his work, and he certainly wasn't fit to be a parental figure.
Teagan hummed in thought, toying with her teacup. “Are you sure that’s all?” She queried, “Because when I saw you speaking to her, you didn’t seem to be interrogating her.”
“Teagan, if you’re suggesting what I think you are—”
“No one can get close to her, Rodger. She needs someone. You said it yourself: She’s just a child, no older than eight. Can you not at least try to comfort her?” Teagan pleaded, her hands holding the cup a little firmer, “I know you’re worried about her just as much as I am.”
Rodger looked away, his eye closing in thought. Teagan was right. Even though he prided himself on reading people, he was sure Teagan was just as good, if not better. Maybe that was why they got along so well.
“Fine.” He sighed out, “I’ll try to get her to trust someone. But I can’t be a parent to her. I don’t know the first thing about children.”
Teagan’s expression softened, and finally, she let up on the topic. The tea party fell into its usual rhythm of talking about investigations and activities around Gardenview, and there was no further talk about Toodles or anything related.
Rodger was one who honoured his word. He promised Teagan that he would try to get Toodles to find some sort of trustworthy figure, so he was going to do just that. The following day, he collected a new brain-teasing puzzle for the little girl. He packaged it up with a neat little bow and headed to where Toodles was—her usual spot in the children’s corner in the library.
“Hello, Toodles.” He greeted her calmly, watching as the eight ball perked up, a hint of fear flashing through her eyes for just a moment before she realised who it was.
“Hi,” she responded, going back to fiddling with what she had in her hands. It was a puzzle that Rodger had given her a few days ago. She was occupied with pulling it apart and putting it back together.
Rodger pulled over one of the kiddie chairs, though it wasn’t too big of a height difference since they were already child-sized. He sat next to Toodles, watching her closely as he slid over the little box.
“I brought a new one,” he explained. “I see you’ve already gotten in the swing of that one, yes?”
Toodles nodded, her face lighting up at the sight of the little box. She tore into it, revealing a well-worn puzzle box. She immediately got to work on it, tongue poking out as she pressed various parts of the wood to try and open it.
“It should be big enough to hold one of your jigsaws if you’d like.” Rodger explained, watching as the gears in Toodles’ head spun. The little girl didn’t respond, preoccupied with sorting out all of the possibilities of the box.
Finally, after some time of silence, Toodles spoke up. “Thank you, Mister.” She pushed a piece of the wood, and it shifted. Her eyes lit up with joy as she began to push around again, trying to figure more of it out.
Rodger couldn’t help but admire the persistence of the girl. She was certainly smart, and with the amount of stubbornness she had, he was certain she would find the answer to the puzzle soon.
“Rodger.” He spoke finally, “My name is Rodger." He realised he had never given his name to the young toon, and he was sure she wouldn’t have been able to figure it out otherwise since she didn’t speak to other toons.
She paused from her work, looked up at the magnifying glass toon, then back at the box. “Thank you, mister Rodger.” She corrected. She was polite for a child, uncharacteristically so.
Or maybe Rodger just didn’t know many children.
“How old are you, toodles?” Rodger asked. Though he was finding it difficult to not go into his interrogation mode, he figured this was a necessary question.
“Six. I’m about to turn seven." Toodles replied without hesitation. This was the most information any toon had gotten out of her, and Rodger prided himself on that.
Though maybe interrogating a child wasn't something to be too proud of.
“Almost seven, hm?” Rodger muttered to himself. He supposed his guess was spot on. She wasn’t older than eight.
Toodles nodded, pushing in another wooden piece on the puzzle box, her face lighting up again. “I don’t remember my birthday, though.”
Rodger paused, a pang of sympathy running through his heart. He knew it was hard to remember much from their previous lives, and most toons just chose the day they were brought to the human world to be their birthday if they didn’t remember. But for Toodles, it was different. She was a child, and he knew that birthdays were important to kids. They were to him, at least.
“Well,” Rodger started apprehensively. “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”
Toodles looked up at him, her eyes big and curious. “What do you mean, Mister Rodger?”
Rodger hummed. He wasn’t fully sure what he meant by it, but he thought quickly—a skill he prided himself on. “We can choose a day for your birthday to be on.”
“Can it be every day?” Toodles asked, lighting up and finally looking away from her puzzle box. She had a big, childish smile on her face. It wasn’t often she smiled, and the fact that Rodger’s suggestion was what caused it melted his heart.
He certainly was failing on not getting attached to the little eight ball.
“No, Toodles,” Rodger shook his head. “Then your birthday wouldn’t hold the significance it does.” He got a pout from Toodles but remained firm in his decision.
“Fine.” She huffed, thinking. “What about next week?”
“Next week, huh?” Rodger questioned, “Alright. How about Wednesday? The eighth.” He supposed that was a fitting day for a birthday—the eighth for an eight ball.
Toodles beamed, standing up and clapping her hands excitedly. “How many days is that?”
“Five days,” Rodger explained. “It’s the third today.”
Toodles narrowed her eyes, pulling up her hands to count. She slowly put some fingers down, counting to herself. Then she smiled again. “Okay!”
“Is that good, then?” Rodger asked, “The eighth of August?”
Toodles thought again. “August?” She asked, “That's not what month it is, right?”
“It is.” Rodger couldn’t help but smile at the fact that she knew. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for a child her age to know months, but it still made him feel an odd sense of pride.
They both fell quiet again, Toodles working on her puzzle box while Rodger thought up how he would get everyone on board for a birthday celebration. It wasn’t long after falling into the rhythm of the puzzle box that she opened it, clicking the lid open.
“I did it!” She chirped, showing off her accomplishment to Rodger.
“You did!” He congratulated her, “Now, remember how you did that so you can store things in there and get them out later.”
Toodles excitedly agreed, putting the toy she was messing with earlier in the box before closing it. Then she opened it again, proud of her discovery. And she didn’t even need any help figuring it out.
Rodger wasn’t sure why, but he felt proud of her, like she had done something no other child had done before and that she was the smartest in the whole world. It warmed his heart to see her so excited over an accomplishment.
He chalked it up to the fact she didn’t smile much outside of it because she was fearful of her new surroundings.
Every other day, Rodger visited Toodles, coming with a new puzzle or word search. He figured she wasn’t quite ready for crosswords, but maybe he could craft one more suited to her age.
Every time she got a new one, she was so grateful, thanking Rodger repeatedly while she got to work on it. She cherished the presents she received, showing them off to her handler when she could.
She also opened up a little to Teagan, seeming to find a little comfort in the motherly teacup. She was still apprehensive, though, remaining closer to Rodger than to anyone else.
Rodger wasn't sure how to feel about it.
Leading up to Toodles’ birthday, Rodger managed to tell every toon. He was prepared to make this a big celebration with the help of Teagan. It was a tea party—after all, that was really the only party they had the capacity for without begging staff to give them things. Teagan reassured Rodger that it would be a little girl’s dream to have a tea party for her birthday.
Rodger hesitantly agreed. He just wanted it to be perfect.
Toons began gathering gifts, some even coming to Rodger for help deciding what they should get. He knew her best, after all, even if the best wasn’t that well.
When the party arrived, Toodles was surprised and excited to see the setup. She pulled Rodger around, still too nervous around other toons but trusting the magnifying glass to protect her. It warmed Rodger’s heart to be trusted like that.
He pushed that idea away, though. He couldn’t care for a child. Not here in this prison the humans held them in.
But the way that Toodles got excited over every little thing, thanking Rodger for setting it up—even though Rodger insisted Teagan did most of the work—and how she broke out of her scared little shell upon seeing that the other toons were nice, Rodger felt that bond he had for her growing.
Toodles opened her gifts excitedly, pulling out puzzles and stuffies and even some new clothes. She thanked everyone and quickly got to work playing.
She seemed comfortable, and it was Rodger’s doing.
“So, you’re still unsure if you like her?” Teagan spoke up from beside Rodger. He was watching her protectively from one of the tables, sipping his tea.
Rodger glanced over at Teagan, his eye narrowing. “She’s a good kid.” He said simply.
Teagan hummed, “So, you celebrated her birthday just because she was a ‘good kid’?”
Rodger stood tall. “Birthdays are important to growing minds.”
Teagan shook her head, taking a seat beside Rodger. “Why won’t you admit you care for her?” She asked apprehensively, her voice gentle and non-accusatory.
Rodger sighed, watching as Toodles played with a little dog plushy that Scraps had made for her. She seemed to be having so much fun, pretending that the dog was on a mission investigating something.
She even picked up Rodger’s mannerisms already.
“Is it because you don’t want her getting involved in your investigations?” Teagan continued.
Rodger stayed silent for a moment. “Perhaps.” He admitted, “I want to keep her safe, but I don’t know if I'm cut out to do that.”
“Sure you are.” Teagan nudged Rodger with her elbow, “You’ve already made her come out of her shell, and it’s clear she admires you. She’s even copying your little investigator tone.”
Surely enough, Toodles was putting on a voice, eerily similar to how Rodger spoke when he was getting into someone’s business.
“I don’t want her finding trouble because of me. You know just as well as I do that many toons don’t like how I operate.”
Teagan hummed, taking a sip of her tea as she thought. “Then maybe it’s time to change your ways.”
Rodger gave her a look, a slight worry in his eye. He’d been operating like a reporter since before they were pulled here, getting into other people’s business, sneaking around like some sort of detective. Despite his age, he was wreckless in his investigations, acting like some teen sneaking around.
“We both know you’re getting older, Rodger." Teagan continued, “Maybe it’s best to investigate normally. Without the sneaking around and prying.”
Rodger pulled his gaze away from Teagan, watching Toodles again. He watched her as she played, carefree and happy. It felt good to have caused that happiness for the young toon. He was the one that made her feel safe and comfortable in a sea of unfamiliarity and fear. She didn’t even hit Goob when he came in to hug her for her birthday.
And for the first time in a long, long time, he considered giving up his ‘investigation’ for Toodles.
He never knew anything different when it came to his profession. He was made as an unethical detective in their cartoon, and he carried that trait to modern day.
But maybe he could change. Not for himself, but for a child—someone he found himself caring about more deeply than any other. Maybe he saw himself in her, a troublemaker with a good heart.
“Maybe.” Rodger sighed.
Teagan offered their friend a smile. “You don’t have to give it up completely.” She explained, “You can teach her how to investigate ethically. Conduct interviews; look around with the consent of others. But you don’t have to pry into people’s lives and creep around.” Teagan let out a soft sigh, “She needs someone. And I know that you can be that person.”
Rodger nodded, and for the first time, he really let his affection for the child roll in. She was intelligent and playful, and she had the most caring way of speaking. Not to mention the little bit of attitude she was able to give when she wanted. It all reminded him of himself when he was a child.
Gardenview was not an environment for a child—not with the staff and some of the other toons. He knew she wouldn’t get proper education or care, and that only urged him to take her under his wing more.
And for the first time, Rodger really tried changing his life around, to act like the adult he was and care for someone other than himself. He cared deeply about Toodles, like she was his own daughter, and she cared about him back.
It was a real connection that Rodger was not going to sacrifice. He wanted to teach her, care for her, and let her make stupid mistakes while learning along the way. He was determined to let her have as normal a childhood as possible after being ripped away from her life before. He wasn’t going to let her grow up without a parental figure.
And if he had to change for her, he would do it because family comes first. Toodles wasn’t just some toon; she was his daughter, through and through.