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1.

Giggly Wiggly, laugh for you, laugh for me!
Giggly Wigglies, play with you, play with me!
They come to spread Giggles across the land,
To all girls and boys — just come take their hand!
Come on! It’s Giggly Wiggly time!

The song slammed around the room like an invading armies’ siren. It bounced off of the walls and ceiling, wrapping around everyone on the soundstage. The children cried with joy, screaming until their throats burned with the kind of passion normally reserved for people at punk concerts, but even they had nothing on these children. The speakers broadcasting the song had been designed to be able to drown out anything this side of a jet engine. The children managed to be heard anyway, as they always did. Johanna Herbister sighed, covering her headset microphone with her left hand, her green sparkling nails curling with delicate anger. The only thing Johanna found more consistently frustrating than the Giggly Wigglies was the hordes of little brats able to fashion, on demand, endless amounts of shrieking, mucus, shit and tears. Not always in that order, either.

As the children stood up to dance the Great Giggly Dance, a funeral procession of laughter and ill-coordinated stomping, Johanna discreetly popped another two aspirin. She swallowed them dry and shot a glance at her Production Assistant, Travis, in the corner. Travis winked at her and shrugged gently, turning swiftly to wave frantically at Tony, working Camera Two. Johanna followed the wave and grit her teeth. If Tony couldn’t manage to track children who could barely work out marching in a circle he would need to be replaced. The suggestion would come from Travis within a week, she knew, and she would agree with it. She wanted to let Travis bring it up though, he was learning quickly and she enjoyed watching him grow into his role with each passing day.

After the Great Giggly Dance came the Romp ‘n’ Stomp, the Juice Box Jamboree and the most hated moment of every show – the Hokey Pokey, or as Johanna put it to Travis one night, long after taping for the day had ended: “If those kids put one more left foot in, they’re not getting it back.” Travis laughed, and Johanna had laughed right along with him. There was something in her eyes though, a resigned gleam that spoke volumes about her simple statement made in the heat of anger and wine. Travis didn’t seem to notice it, and Johanna was grateful.

2.

Grinkle, Snorktasm, Tamburto and Bobble Wobble sat in their private lounge after a long day of taping. Grinkle, his blue and red fur slicked back with sweat, finished shuffling the cards and started dealing a fresh hand of poker. Snorktasm gathered her cards up, and tapped them down in a fist of green scales and claws, the claws rounded down and painted in hypnotizing swirls of gold and silver. Tamburto sighed loudly and puffed on his cigar with lips the color of the sky after a storm. He turned to Bobble Wobble and gave the pink winged create a sharp nudge with an elbow.

“Did you see that kid in the second row today?” Tamburto waggled his eyebrows and fanned his cards in a large three fingered purple furred hand. Bobble Wobble shook his wedge shaped head slowly and refused to comment, frowning at his cards, his black pupil-less eyes shining darkly.

“The blonde with the pigtails?” Grinkle asked as he fanned his own cards, “Yeah I saw her, her parents were there, I’d forget it.”

“Maybe we could invite them too?” Snorktasm ventured, already shrugging as she spoke, knowing Grinkle’s mindset.

“Are you nuts, ‘Tas? We start that kinda shit and we’re col’ busted.” Tamburto tossed a card down and nodded at Grinkle. A card was pushed off the top of the deck and slid its way to Tamburto’s hand. Bobble Wobble took two, Snorktasm only one and Grinkle held his hand as he had dealt it.

“We need to speak to Johanna though, it’s been a tight month.” Tamburto grumbled, ashing his cigar slowly, watching the sudden reveal of the cigar’s glowing red tip as the ash fell free. Bobble Wobble nodded agreement and laid out his cards. The rest followed suit and Snorktasm thumped the table in joy as she showed off her winning hand.

“We can’t even play for anything worth while,” Grinkle spat, annoyed as he gathered up the cards and passed the deck to Snorktasm for a shuffle.

“We could play for money.” Tamburto smiled as he offered the suggestion, hopeful that he could shift the mood of the room a little, even though he had brought the subject up in the first place.

“Like I damn well said,” Grinkle grumped at him, waiting for Snorktasm to deal, “we can’t even play for anything worthwhile.” The game continued apace, mostly in silence, a simple way to pass the time.

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…After These Messages is copyright Adam P. Knave.