Growing (Cam)pai(g)ns

Growing (Cam)pai(g)ns

Chapter One

“Here comes Carrots Cottontail, hoppin’ down the campaign trail,” Nick Wilde sing-songed teasingly.  Judy Hopps rolled her eyes.

“It’s not mine, it’s Zipper’s,” she reminded him.  “And it’s only temporary.”

“Say what you want, Carrots, but it’s good to see you excited by the city again.”  Sometimes it shocked Judy that her optimism had rubbed off on Nick.  “Zip’s got this in the bag.”

If only the fly himself was as certain.  After a chance encounter with master bootlegger Duke Weaselton had revealed the existence of a Rescue Rangers reboot, pollsters had predicted that the A-list film actor who’d dubbed Zip’s voice would also deliver his speeches.  They were all convinced the move would improve his ratings.

Maybe, but if he cared about those, Zip would’ve asked his longtime advisor, Lory Birdton, to give him a leg up.  As a veteran voice actor, Lory excelled at giving speeches.  But campaigning meant showing up, and Lory, habitually late with a strong dislike of crowds, would nix that in a heartbeat.

But the point was moot; Zip had already offered the position to Judy, and had no doubt she would come through.  It was himself he worried about.  In the recent flick, not only did Zip have a booming voice to express his thoughts, he’d also won the affection of co-Ranger Gadget Hackwrench, the dream girl of mammals everywhere.

There were 2 things wrong with that: in real life, Zip did possess an impressive vocabulary and mind, but he was much more reserved than his counterpart.  And Gadget had always been a friend--nothing more.

Zip had calmly repeated those facts in his mind like a mantra every time he ran into ridiculous rumors.  Still, the criticism had nearly gotten the best of him; he would’ve dropped out of the race had it not been for…her.

Chapter Two

Sherry (a butterfly) was a nightclub singer in a newly opened club in the Rainforest District.  It catered to smaller citizens, though being a bug in Zootopia was dangerous--you were not only the bottom class, but also, in some circles, the bottom of the food chain.

A weary Zipper had weaved his way into the club at the end of a long day of campaign planning.  He was well-aware that a mayoral candidate being seen at a club didn’t bode well, but at the moment he couldn’t find it within himself to care.

He’d taken a seat in front of the stage just as the announcer, a disembodied deep voice, purred, “And now, Sherry…The Butterfly” in a tone that, Zip thought, would be at home in Paws Vegas.  But, when Sherry glided onto the stage a second later, his thoughts scattered like, well, butterflies.  She was beautiful, her head and wings a deep rose pink, her antennae curved into stylish curls, a dainty green nose, her eyes bright yellow and expressive.  She had spots on her wings that could be mistaken for the same.  Her body was purple and slim, with three long black legs on either side.  She was a vision.

Indeed, as she softly crooned everything from Sinatrunk to Disney standards, Zip found himself wondering if she was real.  He had her pegged for a mirage, especially since he’d indulged in a few apple cores too many.  As she wrapped up the night with her favorite song, “It’s A Small World”; Zip realized that, while the day may have been a drag, he didn’t want the night to end.  Then, as he stood and sighed, prepared to begrudgingly zig-zag his way home, something amazing happened.  Sherry stepped gracefully off the stage, then turned and headed straight for him.

“Hi,” she said, her voice as sweet in speech as it was in song.  “May I sit here?”  She gestured to the empty chair across from him.  In shock, Zip sobered immediately, though he could only nod.  “What’s a nice fly like you doing in a place like this?” she asked, though she wasn’t flirting; there was genuine concern in her eyes.

“I was gonna ask the same of you,” answered Zip; he definitely was flirting.

They talked all night; from then on they were inseparable.  Within months they were married, choosing to elope to a more bug-friendly locale.  Within three days of returning to Zip’s house by Hannah’s window, they had two bouncing baby flies, named Zipper Junior (Junior for short) and Ziggy.  Hannah was thrilled for them, offering to buy a new dollhouse suitable for the family, but Zip wanted to pay his own way.  Using the royalties he received from merchandizing the “Rescue Rangers” reboot (Duke Weaselton did have his good points), he purchased a new home--big enough for them, plus, perhaps, another little one (or two).

Sherry saw Zipper for who he was--brave, loyal, and affectionate, silent strength with a fun-loving streak.  She didn’t see his size or his squeak as flaws; she knew they were his strengths, and she loved him.

Chapter Three

Even as the encouraging twinkle in Nick’s eyes had danced through her head for days afterward, Judy couldn’t help but wonder if her new position was in jeopardy--before it had even started, no less.  Despite some reservations, Nick still palled around with Duke Weaselton.  She didn’t begrudge him that; her fox’s default mode was ‘schmooze’, and it had served them both well, even on the right side of the law.  If Weaselton ever traded small-time crime for a bigger payoff, he’d be out of their circle faster than Flash flooring it in his Furrari.  But until then…well, she’d practically stuffed the guy into a giant donut. Some days she felt sorry for him. It didn’t hurt that cheesy D-list movies did wonders for two mammals in a high-stress line of work.

It was funny…When Bellwether--the one she’d trusted--had suggested she become the face of city safety, she’d balked.  But now, thanks to a bootlegged reboot/retrospective of her friend’s former vocation (it was complicated), she faced missing out on a (small, but impactful) platform.  One that she didn’t want to lose.

Judy shook her head. ‘Small but impactful’ were the key words here--because they also described Zipper, who had sought--and deserved--all the glory.  

For Judy, her size had always been a source of pride; she loved seeing the looks on other mammals’ faces when they realized how much endurance, strength, and skill was packed into her petite frame.

But Zipper, she’d observed, displayed bravado when it came to his size.  He’d give every case his all, but at times that meant he didn’t abide by his limitations.  Often he would ignore them, rather than use them to his advantage.  He’d gotten better at the latter, but still, Judy feared that his insecurities would get the best of him, affecting their professional futures--and maybe even their friendship.  She had to talk to him.

Though Judy was nervous about their conversation, she was excited, too.  Her fly friend always had a way of making those around him smile.  He also had an eye for interior design, and she wondered what he’d think of the XXSmall mouse table, chair, and flower arrangement she’d bought especially for his visits.  (She didn’t want to consider that, after she spoke her mind today, he wouldn’t want to visit again.)

“Come on in, Zipper,” Judy greeted him warmly, ushering the fly into the foyer.

 “Thanks, Judy. Nice place!” She grinned.

“I’m glad you like it.  I, uh, saved you a seat.”  She led him to the small kitchen island, tugging gently on the tiny chair and allowing him to sit before choosing a spot at the counter beside him.  “Aww!” Zip simpered.  “This is great! But why all the fuss?”  ‘So much modesty for such a little guy,’ Judy thought, smiling affectionately at her guest.

Judy quickly switched to professional mode.  “If…Since” She caught herself, hoping Zipper didn’t notice her hesitation, “...We’re going to be working together on your campaign, I want you to feel welcome here.  Think of it as your headquarters for the duration.”

“Ah--gotta have a headquarters,” Zipper agreed, sighing wistfully.  The Rangers had had one, the home they’d shared once upon a time.  Judy nodded, sympathetic.  She was more of a forward-thinker, but she understood Zip’s pain; he missed his friends and their adventures together.

“You said, ‘if’. Why?” Startled out of her thoughts by the question, she face-pawed reflexively--a gesture she’d picked up from Nick. She’d made mistake number one in her moral handbook: Never underestimate anyone, let alone Zipper.  But she could fix it--by acting reflexively again, this time doing what her dear friend Herb H. Horse would do: Be vulnerable.

“I’m afraid you’ll give the advisor position to your movie double.”

“Awww…!” Zipper reached out to pat her paw, then did something unexpected. He laughed.  “Okay, Judy, listen carefully.” As he spoke, Zipper’s features morphed into what Hannah Snowshoe Hare called his ‘business face’--the expression he wore when battle with an enemy was imminent. Judy suspected said enemy was her insecurities.  “Are you listenin’?”

“Aye-aye!” Judy answered, using a phrase he was fond of.

“One: You know the city--an’ me--way better than an actor.

Two: You know Lory doesn’t trust Hollywood types--why would I?

Three: I’d much rather work with you anyway,

An’ four…I can’t afford to pay a big-time guy!”

Judy allowed herself a moment to take in the formidable fly’s equally impressive speech.

“Well…to answer your question, you’ve always been an independent thinker; listening to Lory isn’t a given.”

“That’s fair. But the rest?” Zipper crossed his arms, smiled, and winked; he knew he had her there.

“I concede.”

“Don’t sound so sad! Look--I promise, the movie wasn’t me.  It’s fun, but that’s all.”

“Well, okay, but Lory…”

“Told me to put a sock in it in an interview last week.  This job isn’t for him.” Judy released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding…only to gasp at Zipper’s revelation.  A morning of projecting her insecurities onto Zipper (she’d freely admit that now) forgotten, she dropped all facades, ready to gossip.

“He what?!” Zipper nodded, looking--smug? Over this?--perhaps because he knew that it would put the kibosh on Judy’s objections for good.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t seem upset,” Judy observed.

“It hurt, but Lory will be Lory.  That’s why everyone loves him, includin’ me.  He’s family.”

“What did Hannah say?”

“It hurt her, too, but she forgave him.  We both did.  An’ Hannah misses Sir Horse too much to care. She needs Lory an’ me.”

Zipper had a point.  Hannah without him and Lory would be like her without Nick.  Sure, she could function minus her fox, but barely. He brought so much joy to her life--no longer unexpected, but still as unpredictable as ever, yet always lifting her when she needed it most. If that’s how Hannah felt, who was she to say otherwise?

Chapter Four

Hannah had whiplash.  At the end of last week, her dear friend Johnny Reid had regained control of his musical catalog, re-releasing an old--but undeniably classic--album on streaming.  She already owned the CD--well-worn and loved as it was--but the news would mean a wider audience--and maybe more fans and revenue--for her favorite singer.

Then, a long-awaited interview from Lory Birdton, voice actor extraordinaire, had her in stitches.  Except, that is, for the part where he expressed distaste for being Zipper’s official soundalike. Hannah was honored to call Lory a friend, but had a dig at the darling fly really been necessary?  That question was rhetorical; Lory didn’t do anything unless he felt it was necessary.

No matter. Today--with a new week just beginning--she was saving her energy for a video call with Sir Horse, former mayor and lifelong friend. Still, Hannah winced; as far as she was concerned, ‘former’ was a curse word. His exit--before the end of his term, no less--was a huge loss to the city.  Even though he was holding regular press conferences--more like a debriefing of what he’d learned recently meets town hall--it wasn’t quite the same.  But Hannah took what she could get, because as long as he was in office, it was a guarantee that she would see him regularly.  Once he left, his dreams, priorities, and routines would change.  And what if, despite his best intentions, he couldn’t fit Hannah among them?

Hannah was doomscrolling--that is, letting these thoughts get the better of her as she scanned her e-mail for pieces of interest from the local paper.  (Their A&E newsletters kept her mind occupied in idle moments…mostly.) But when she saw the video call notification from Sir Horse, she clicked through to the meeting like lightning, resolving to stay present.  As soon as she saw his face, and heard, when the audio kicked in, his warm and gentle “How’s it going?” being present became effortless.

“I’ve been better.” She aimed for nonchalance.

“Really?” Sir Horse replied.  “I’ve been told by someone who looks and sounds a lot like you that I make everything better.”

With a smirk, Hannah replied, “What if that wasn’t me? Maybe it was an AI. Or”--she went on with an even more mischievous simper-- “maybe you’re talking to an AI right now, and what you said is true after all.” Sir Horse smiled back.

“Interesting.”

“It’s funny you should mention AI, Hannah, because that’s part of my project here at the coalition.”

“Ooh, fancy!” Sir Horse chuckled at that as she added, “How so?”

“Well, my friend, as you know, mammals in underprivileged areas don’t have a lot of access to the internet.  So my focus here has been, ‘how do we change that?’ and then, ‘how do we make sure that the screen time these mammals do get is valuable--especially when it comes to the younger ones?”

“Wow!” Hannah replied, and then, “I don’t have the, uh, bandwidth to understand the first part.”  They both laughed at that.  “But tell me about the second part.”

“Certainly.  Some friends I’ve met here had the idea that young mammals can use AI to write stories--or that young ones and caregivers can make up stories together.”

“Bonding time fueled by imagination,” Hannah mused.  “I like it.” There was a pause before she added, “I miss you, but I like it.”

“Now I know you’re not an AI.  They don’t show emotion.”

Chapter Five

And show emotion she did, because as soon as the call with Sir Horse ended, she broke down in tears.  Call her selfish, call her unreasonable--she’d been called a million things at one time or another--but not seeing Sir Horse on a regular basis felt as though a piece of her heart was missing.

Hannah sniffled, wiping her eyes with a tissue.  Speaking of pieces of her heart, she realized that Zipper had mentioned going to Judy’s today. She should go check on him.

After checking his house to ensure he hadn’t snuck in unnoticed, she called Judy, who picked up on the first ring.  “Hannah?”

“That’s me!  Is Zip-Zip still with you?”

“Yes!” Judy answered cheerfully.  “I probably should have called you, but we got busy brainstorming.  It’s getting late--Nick and I will walk him home soon.  He has homework, though."

“What is the meaning of this?!” Hannah huffed, only half-joking; she hated anything even vaguely bureaucratic.

“We drafted a speech; since they’ll all be from his point of view,  I told him that if he records himself reading it, I can get a better sense of his inflections and make my delivery sound more authentic.”

“I love that idea! Thank you for helping my Zip-Zip be heard, Judy.  See you soon.” Hannah hung up before she got emotional again--a perennially exhausted hare could only take so much in one day.

When Judy and Nick arrived with Hannah’s precious cargo in tow, she thanked them profusely.  Then, once Zip was out of earshot--looking over his speech, no doubt--she said, “I’ll let you guys get going. I’m sure the kits miss you.” The WildeHopps kits--along with Zipper’s six little guys and gals--were currently in the care of Nick’s mom, Olivia. Sherry would pick up her sons and daughters on the way home from her nightclub gig.

The three friends said goodnight, leaving Hannah heading to Zip’s place, where he was poring over a paper on the night table and readying his recording equipment…

“A good ol’ fashioned tape recorder!” Hannah exclaimed.  “Lory will love that.”  Zip smirked, scoffed, and ‘tsk’-ed at her, but he was only kidding.  Then he added teasingly, “If you be quiet, I’ll let you listen to my speech.”

“Right--sorry.”

“Don’t be! You know you love me.”  Hannah laughed at his use of Nick’s famous line from Weaselton’s documentary. So of course she had to answer:

“Do I know that? Yes, yes I do.”

She knew it well, indeed; so much so that when he meticulously yet passionately spoke his speech, Hannah’s mind shouted, ‘LET YOUR SQUEAK FLAG FLY, EMPOWERED FLY!’

And when it finished shouting, Hannah’s mind realized that the phrase would make a great campaign slogan, especially if the second ‘fly’ were replaced with ‘Zootopian’ or any other animal species. They could print that on a t-shirt…and she would buy several.