The Timeclock Punchers

Their chance encounter happened, appropriately enough, in front of a clock, a rather famous timepiece rather than an old-fashioned timeclock with punch cards like the one that they used to meet in front of every morning.

Ralph had been orbiting the information counter, checking the departure screens as well as admiring Grand Central Station’s brass and opal masterpiece clock, when he caught the shock of red hair passing by, peeking out from under a hat. His eyes did a double-take as he saw his old work companion lumber past, but his mouth didn’t hesitate, the old line leaving his lips before he even realized he was saying it aloud.

“Mornin’ Sam.”

“Oh, mornin’ Ralph”, he heard the deep rumbling reply, just as automatically conjured as his own had been.

It was in fact mid-afternoon, but no other greeting would have been appropriate for the two of them to have uttered.

Sam stopped and turned, moving his hair out of his eyes so he could see clearly. They smiled at one another, Ralph’s snaggly protruding fang showing in his grin, before stepping into a spontaneous hug.

“Sixty odd years, in and out of the business together and this is the first time I think we’ve ever hugged each other”, exclaimed Ralph, pounding his old friend on the back.

“Well, we always had other priorities when we were working together,” added Sam, as they stepped back to look each other over.

They were dressed similarly, in the manner of their kind when they wanted to appear somewhat normal and draw minimal attention in what they usually affectionately referred to as the real world. Each wore a long trench coat with the collar turned up and a hat with the brim pulled down low, Sam’s a simple stroker and Ralph’s a more stylish fedora. They weren’t exactly disguises, but were still surprisingly effective at letting them pass unnoticed for the most part.

“Sam Sheepdog. I can’t believe it’s actually you. What’s it been? Twenty years or better.”

“Yeah, something like that. Since we did those cameos on Back in Action I think.”

“Looks like you’ve been spending a decent amount of time in the real world. There’s more than a little gray in that red mop of yours.”

“I could say the same about your mangy hide, Ralph.”

“So how have you been?” Ralph asked. “Where have you been, what the hell are you doing here in New York?”

“Where do you want me to start, Ralph?”

“How about an easier one. Have you got time to get a cup of coffee and catch-up with an old acquaintance?”

“Sure, I can always make time for coffee, Ralph.”

The Coffee Peddler was just a few steps away, and they found an open table.

“So I was headed home,” Sam started, after sitting down.

“Not here in the city?”

“Nah, a farm, up north a bit. Vermont. What about you?”

“Me. I’m headed to Arizona, of all places. Been back to work for a few years now. Doing stunt coordinating, of all things. Can you imagine?”

“You’re not jumping off any ledges into canyons, are you? At your age?”

“Nah, like I said, coordinating. I tell the other guys how they should do it, then sit back and watch. No more lumps on this head.”

“You said you’re back working. You quit for a while?”

“Yeah, I had some problems, Sam. Had to step away.”

Sam gave him some time to elaborate if he wanted.

“I had a second nervous breakdown. A really bad one, at that.”

“Not the vertigo again?”

“I wish. No, I’ve got that mostly under control. Just stay out of airplanes and skyscrapers, and avoid those thousand-foot dropoffs that used to show up in the shorts, and I’m good. No, this was considerably more serious. More of an identity crisis. At its worst, I wasn’t even sure who I was anymore.”

“That sounds horrible. What brought that on?”

“Ah, come on Sam. The rumors were going around, you had to hear ‘em. Sad thing was, they weren’t all just rumors.”

“So it really was that bad for you, being around Wile E. Coyote?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t jealousy though, that’s one thing the tabloids did get wrong. It was our uncanny resemblance, this lack of self, and the public always getting us confused. At first, it was kinda comical. He’d get called Ralph, I’d get called Wile E., and it was all a big laugh. But as he got more and more famous, it all shifted one way. Nobody knew who I was anymore. It was always ‘Hi, Wile E.’, or ‘Hey Wile E, ever think you’ll catch him’. It really started to all come apart when they let Wile E. start to talk. You remember, when he switched to doing shorts with Bugs. I mean, we never talked much, you and me, but we did have speaking parts. That was the one thing I had on Wile E.. When Warner Bros. gave him a voice though, I just snapped.

And I fell deep into it. I started talking like him, you know, with that uppity, genius kind of accent he used. It got so bad, I showed up to a couple of his public appearances and insisted that I was the real Wile E. It’s taken years of work, but I finally got it back under control where I could work again.”

“But enough about my problems. What have you been up to, old pal? Still with Warner?”

“Oh, I stayed on for a bit, not doing any real acting much. Kept on watchin’ the sheep, you know. The studio kept the set open, and they didn’t seem to mind, so when they quit shootin’ shorts, we just stayed and kept working.”

“We?”

“Yeah, me and Fred. You remember Fred Sheepdog…”

“The night shift guy? Black mop to your red?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Sure, I remember him. I remember thinking George, you know, the night wolf, always thought he had it easy. I mean, Fred was nice enough, as much as I ever knew him, but compared to you? I remember this one time, I worked over covering for George. I do my usual, grab a sheep, and there’s Fred, just like you would have been. But when he socked me one, Sam, I swear, I hardly felt it. I mean, he was big and burly, couldn’t hardly see, just like you, but boy, he hit like a little girl.”

Sam guffawed a couple times, his whole chest bouncing dramatically with each laugh.

“What’s so funny?” asked Ralph.

“He might have hit like a girl, but in other ways, he’s quite the…” Sam started, before he thought better of what he was about to say.

“What the? Are you blushing, you old hound dog?”

“Probably,” he managed, getting control of himself. “Me and Fred got to know each other pretty well when it was just the two of us and the sheep.”

“Nah?”

“Yeah, me and Fred. Kinda a Brokeback Mountain thing, but with animated sheepdogs instead of cowboys. Got married and everything, been together ever since.”

“So you two are retired?”

“As much as any of us ever do. The farm is a mighty nice set up though. When we first moved, it was only real land, but we both missed the animated. So we contacted a couple of the old cartoonists…”

“Not from our show?”

“No, no, they’d all be long since dead. We met these two, Bill and Ernie at one of the Space Jam movies. Anyway, we called them up, asked ‘em if they were interested in drawing some landscapes for us…you know, expand the acreage a bit…and they thought it was such a swell idea, they ended up movin’ in with us. Now, we need anything, anything at all, we just ask and they sketch it up for us. And the kids just love ‘em.”

“Kids?”

“Ah, Jeze’, how’d I forget them. Me and Fred adopted a couple of labradoodle pups, brother and sister. They don’t have the herding instinct, but they’ve both got damn good noses on ‘em.”

“I can’t get over it, Sam, how much you’ve changed. You’ve become such a family man, and you seem so damn happy. Hell, I think I’ve heard you say more in the last ten minutes than in all the years we worked together total. Nothing wrong with it, but you were always more the strong silent type.”

“Being around Fred has been good for me. And the kids do keep us busy.”

“So that’s the clan? Doesn’t you girl feel a little outnumbered, all that testosterone around.”

“Well, she always has Blinky.”

“This just keeps gettin’ better,” Ralph laughed. “OK, who’s Blinky?”

“Darn, probably shouldn’t have brought her up.”

“Why, something bad about her?”

“It’s not that, it’s just…well, you said your mental health is good and solid now, right?”

“Where’s this headed, Sam?”

“OK, here it is. Blinkey is the sheep that you always tried to carry off and eat. Now don’t go taking it personal or nothing, but the writers always used her, the same sheep for all those stunts. Said she was a natural, had just the right combination of innocent vacant stare and quivering reaction to impending death that they were looking for in a victim. And they would never tell her it was coming. They wanted authentic reactions, they said. Kind of like a Shelly Duvall thing in The Shining.”

“And she lives with you too?”

“It’s the least we could do. She was traumatized within an inch of her life, and we just couldn’t leave her behind.”

“Have you stayed in touch with any of the other old gang? Any of the big names ever call you?

“Porky comes to see us almost every year. Petunia comes along too.”

“They come out to the farm?”

 “Yeah, for about a week. It’s a little strange.”

“Yeah, how’s that.”

“Don’t know if I should be telling you this, but seeing as you were part of the original cast, why not. Did you ever notice, of all the animals that were in the shorts, Porky was the only one who always wore clothes? Not pants and all, but he always had on his jacket, at the very least. The people, Elmer and Granny and them, they were always dressed properly, but Porky was the only one of us animated animals that didn’t go round, well, furry and free like we was born. Later when she came on, Petunia was the same way.”

“Now that you mention it, you’re right. Even that little French fuck Pepé was naked except for a bow tie. But what does that have to do with Porky and Petunia at your place?”

“Well, it’s not like they do much socializing with any of us, or even spend time in the countryside. What they do is, they both strip down, and spend almost the whole week wallowing around in the mud out behind the barn.”

“You’re kidding. Porky and Petunia?”

“Yep. Call it ‘getting back in touch with their natural side’. Seems to relax the hell out of ‘em, and they said it’s a lot cheaper than some fancy spa where they make you get out of the mud bath after a few hours.”

“Speaking of Granny, what can we do for you, ma’am?”

While they had been talking, a little old lady, somewhat reminiscent of Granny from the cartoons, had walked up and was now standing between them, next to their table.

“Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m such a big fan. Could I possibly get your autograph, Mr. Coyote?”, she asked, holding out a pen and what looked like her receipt from the coffee shop.

“Ma’am, this is not…”

“It’s OK, Sam. I don’t mind. Autographs are a part of the business, after all. So, to whom do I make this out, my dear?”

“Maggie,” she replied, bouncing on her toes with excitement.

“Very well. To the delightful Miss Maggie, Yours truly, Wile E. Coyote, Super Genius.”

Ralph handed back her pen and paper, and she beamed at it like a found treasure.

“Thank you so much,” she said, walking away clutching her prize.

“Was that really good for you Ralph, I mean, given your mental health history?”

“It’s fine Sam. Believe it or not, it’s actually helpful. My therapist and I worked through it and decided it was better than likely creating a scene, and having to argue with a stranger that I wasn’t in fact who they thought I was. So long as I know I’m pretending, I’m in control and it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“OK, if you say so. But when you dropped into that accent of his, I thought I was gonna have to call for some guys in white coats.”

“People don’t say that anymore, Sam. It comes across as rather offensive.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No harm.”

“Something else is bothering me though, Sam.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“Who is this KA James person, and why are they writing about us? I didn’t get any notice about any filming coming up.”

“I think it’s supposed to be one of those, oh, what do you call ‘em, nostalgia pieces. You know, everything old is new again.”

“Huh. Do you think they know we’re talking about them now?”

“They’re writing it down so they kinda have to know.”

“How does that even work?”

“I think it’s what they call a fourth wall kinda thing. You know, like they do in those new Deadpool movies where the character talks to the camera.”

“Deadpool?”

“But I think Mel Brooks did it much better, like in Blazing Saddles.”

“You and Fred watch a lot of movies, don’t you Sam?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason.”

Their conversation lulled as they sat back to enjoy what remained of their coffees, until Sam noticed a young man watching them from a couple tables away.

“Don’t look now Ralph, but I think you’ve got another fan,” he said, leaning in and trying to gesture covertly with his head.

“Well he must be close, if you can see him,” replied Ralph, heedlessly turning to search the café , and quickly spotting the potential admirer.

The young man, sitting just a couple tables away and emboldened now that he had been discovered and acknowledged, stood and started to walk their way.

“Does your therapist approve of you actually encouraging your mistaken identity encounters?” whispered Sam.

“Oh, relax, Sam. Besides, maybe he’s a fan of yours.”

“Hardly. You know how long it’s been since I’ve been recognized.”

“It’s Ralph and Sam, right. Sam Sheepdog and Ralph Wolf?”

“My God, Sam. Did you hear that. He knows who we are! And I believe he’s young enough to have been born this century.”

“1999, so just missed it sir.”

“Still just a pup. And he has manners.”

“That probably comes from my granddad. He taught me a lot of things. He taught me about you two as well. Well, not taught, but showed me. We used to watch reruns of Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies together. He loved ‘em, and I loved him, so…well, you get the idea.”

“Indeed we do, indeed we do. You’re using past tense, so I’m guessing your granddad is no longer with us?”

“No, Granddad Joe died about five years ago.”

“Sorry to hear. And what might your name be?”

“Bobby. Bobby Jones.”

“No relation to our director Charles, I suppose?”

It took him a moment to think it through, then shook his head.

“Too bad. We miss him, I suspect like you miss your granddad.”

“Do you think I could get a quick video,” Bobby asked. “Maybe with you two doing your tag lines?” he added, hopefully.

“Ah, a performance piece, what could be more entertaining.”

“Ralph, you’re doing his accent again.”

“Oh, sorry. Bad habit when I am around people. OK, how would you like us, Bobby?”

“If you could just sit next to each other, and do the morning greeting bit, that’d be great.”

Ralph moved over to sit next to Sam and put his arm around him, smiling back as Bobby framed them on his phone. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Too bad we don’t have a time clock, eh Sam. But we can pretend,” Ralph said as he reached into the air and pulled down an imaginary handle.

“Mornin’ Sam.”

“Oh, mornin’ Ralph.”

“Got it. You know, granddad would have loved this. Thanks, but I gotta run.”

“You know, we brought it with us to the farm.”

“Brought what?”

“The time clock. Hung it on a tree and everything. Still works, keeps good time. The whistle only goes off at noon now. Seems kinda appropriate, so we left it that way.”

Thinking about the clock, they both glanced over at the information booth.

“It’s been great seeing you again, Ralph, but I’ve got a train to catch.”

“Yeah, I suppose I do too. And yeah, it has been nice.”

They each downed the last of their coffees, awkwardly working at how to bring this reunion to a close.

“We were good together, weren’t we Sam?”

“Yeah, we made a good team.”

“A helluva team. Not exactly Laurel & Hardy or Abbott & Costello, but we had more than our fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, we did. But life goes on and things change.”

They both got up to go their separate ways.

“Hey, before you go Sam, one thing I’ve always wondered. Back when I was trying to steal sheep, how did you always know what I was planning? You were always one step ahead of me.”

“Easy. I read ahead in the script.”

“Duh. That’s sound like something Bugs would have pulled on Elmer. Just goes to show, you were always the smart one between us. You can’t win ‘em all, Sam”

“Good to be alive, Ralph”

“You know, those should have been our tag lines instead of that silly morning greeting bit.”