《玩具总动员》第1章

In the bedroom of young Andy Davis, a desperate outlaw was about to be captured.

As a group of toys gathered in a quiet western town—made out of a row of cardboard boxes— the outlaw suddenly appeared.

"All right, everyone, this is a stickup!" said Andy in a gruff voice, pretending to be a villainous Mr. Potato Head. "Don't anybody move!"

All the other toys were carefully placed in position, watching. Andy pretended to make them all talk.

Andy picked up his piggy bank and shook out its coins. He lowered Mr. Potato Head over the money greedily. Then Andy grabbed a porcelain Little Bo Peep figurine. "Stop it, you mean old potato!" he said in a high-pitched voice, pretending to be Bo Peep.

"Quiet, Bo Peep, or your sheep get run over!" growled Mr. Potato Head. In the middle of a toy racetrack, the sheep stood helplessly, right in the path of danger.

"Not my sheep! Somebody do something!" Bo Peep cried.

Suddenly, Andy grabbed a brown-haired cowboy sheriff doll named Woody. He yanked on the shiny white plastic ring that dangled from a string on the toy sheriff's back. A small voice box inside the cowboy's chest squawked a scratchy recorded message: "Reach for the sky!"

"I'm here to stop you," Woody said to Mr. Potato Head. "Are you gonna come quietly?"

"You can't touch me, Sheriff!" Mr. Potato Head shouted. "I brought my attack dog with a built-in force field!"

Andy stretched a toy Slinky dog in front of Mr. Potato Head, then grabbed a plastic Tyrannosaurus rex doll and dropped it on top of Slinky.

"Well, I brought my dinosaur, who eats force-field dogs! You're goin' to jail," declared Sheriff Woody.

Andy's baby sister, Molly, watched from behind the bars of her crib. Taped to one side of the crib was a cardboard sign with the word JAIL scrawled in crayon.

Andy dropped Mr. Potato Head in with Molly. With a shrieking giggle, the little girl grabbed the doll and started banging him against the rail of her crib, knocking some of his parts onto the floor.

"You saved the day again, Woody," Andy said as he pulled the sheriff's string once more.

"You're my favorite deputy," Woody replied. Andy galloped into the hall. He propped Woody on the stairwell railing—and shoved. Whooping and hollering, Andy clattered downstairs as Woody slid awkwardly down the banister.

"Gotcha!" Andy cried at the bottom. He put Woody on his shoulder and romped around the living room. Then he placed the doll on the footrest of a recliner chair, pulled the lever, and catapulted him across the room.

Suddenly, Andy's eyes lit up. He ran toward his mother, leaving Woody sprawled on the couch. "Wow! This looks great, Mom!"

Colorful helium balloons bobbed on their strings. Crepe-paper streamers decorated the dining room walls. A banner draped across the archway read: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANDY!

"Can we leave this up till we move?" Andy asked his mother.

"Well, sure, we can leave it up," replied Mrs. Davis. "Now, go get Molly. Your friends are going to be here any minute."

Andy stopped by the couch to pick up Woody. "It's party time, Woody!"

Andy pounded up the stairs to his room. As he propped Woody on the bed, he pulled the toy sheriff's string one last time.

"Somebody's poisoned the water hole," said Woody.

"Come on, Molly." Andy reached into his sister's "jail" and lifted her out. Without looking back, he called over his shoulder, "See ya later, Woody!"

Slam! Andy kicked the door closed behind him. The room was silent for a moment. Then Woody shoved his hat back and scratched his forehead. A worried frown creased his brow as he sat up.

"Pull my string!" he muttered under his breath. "The birthday party's today?"

Woody knew only too well what birthdays meant: toys. New toys, and lots of them. Shiny. Still nice in their boxes, with all their parts. Clean, and full of promise. Woody glanced around the quiet room. "Okay, everybody," he called out. "Coast is clear!"

Slowly, toys began to roll out from under the bed, toddle across the floor, and bounce out of the toy chest. They flip-flopped down from shelves. Chattering, squeaking, quacking, and ringing, they swarmed into the open terrain of the bedroom floor.

Mr. Potato Head wobbled as he sat up on his rounded bottom. He had a blank expression, since all his face parts were strewn around the room. One by one, he jabbed his plastic eyes, ears, nose, and mouth into the small round holes scattered across his body. Then he walked over to Andy's fat pink piggy bank, who was flipping a penny into his coin slot. "Hey, look, Hamm! I'm Picasso!"

The piggy bank stared at Mr. Potato Head, whose face pieces were stuck into the wrong holes, making his features seem all mixed up, as in one of the famous artist's paintings. Hamm blinked. "I don't get it."

"Ah, you uncultured swine!" Mr. Potato Head sighed in disgust as he put his features back where they belonged.

High atop Andy's mattress, Woody turned to a plastic Green Army Man standing guard on the bedside table. "Hey, Sarge. Have you seen Slinky?"

"No, sir!" the sergeant said with a stiff salute.

"Okay, thank you. At ease." Woody leaped off the bed, the spurs of his brown boots jangling when he landed squarely on the floor. "Hey, Slinky?"

A metal fwump! Sounded under the bed. Two paws shoved a checkerboard out from under the hem of the bedspread. Woody's faithful sidekick, the toy Slinky dog, wandered out and began setting up the checkers.

"I'm red this time," Slinky said.

Woody shook his head. "No, Slink."

"Oh, all right. You can be red if you want."

"Not now, Slink!" Woody shook his head again. "I've got some bad news."

"Bad news?" Slinky yelped.

Woody shoved a hand over Slinky's mouth and looked around. A few nearby toys inclined their heads, listening for any scrap of hot gossip. Woody led Slinky a few steps away.

"Just gather everyone up for a staff meeting— and be happy!" he whispered.

"Got it," said Slinky. He forced a quick laugh, then shuffled off across the room.

Woody heard a floor-sweeping swish and glanced down at a toy snake and a shiny toy robot as he walked toward the end of the bed.

"Staff meeting, everybody," Woody said, then added, "Snake, Robot—podium duty."

The snake and the robot grumbled a little, but they crawled out from under the bed to help.

A few paces away, the sheriff heard a squeak. He grinned. The knobs were twitching on Etch A Sketch, Andy's rectangular drawing toy. "Hey, Etch!" the sheriff called out. "Draw!" Woody's gun arm shot to his empty holster. Too late.

Etch A Sketch had beaten him to the draw. Etch proudly displayed the revolver he'd created on his gray screen.

"You got me again, Etch!" Woody teased.

"You've been working on that draw. Fastest knobs in the West!" Woody patted him on the corner of his red plastic frame, then walked toward the podium, which the snake and the robot were building out of some blocks and a Tinker Toy box.

Woody nodded his approval. The meeting would start soon. He'd better make a list.

"Now, where is that— Hey, who moved my doodle pad way over here?" He walked over and picked up the tablet.

Suddenly, behind him—

"Roaaaarrrr!"

Woody casually turned around. "Oh, how ya doin', Rex?"

Rex, the not-very-ferocious-looking plastic tyrannosaur, smiled hopefully, his tiny claws clutched to his chest. "Were you scared? Tell me honestly."

Woody bit his lip and cleared his throat. "I was close to being scared that time."

Rex sighed and followed Woody toward the podium. "I'm going for fearsome here," he explained. "But I just don't feel it. I think I'm just coming off as annoying."

Woody was about to reply, but a shepherd's crook suddenly hooked him around the neck. One big yank and he found himself nose to nose with a smiling Bo Peep. "Oh… hi, Bo."

The slender figurine batted her blue eyes. "I wanted to thank you, Woody," she said. "For saving my flock."

Woody blushed. "Oh, hey—it was nothing."

Bo Peep smiled sweetly. "What do you say I get someone else to watch the sheep tonight?" she purred. Woody gulped.

Bo gestured with her crook toward the alphabet blocks that decorated the base of her lamp.

"Remember," she added, "I'm just a couple of blocks away." With a little wave, she sashayed past a small pile of toy alphabet blocks and headed toward the podium.

Woody's heart boinged like a jack-in-the-box. He shook his head to clear it and glanced around. All business again, he scribbled some notes on his doodle pad and strode toward the podium.

Slinky was busy herding all the toys into place. "Come on, come on! Smaller toys up front!"

Everyone crowded around expectantly as Woody took his place at the podium. A toy tape recorder waddled up beside him.

"Oh, thanks, Mike," Woody said. He picked up Mike's microphone and blew. "Hello? Testing, testing. Everybody hear me? Great."

He glanced down at the notes on his doodle pad.

"Okay. First item today: Has everyone picked a moving buddy?"

All the toys began talking excitedly.

"I didn't know we were supposed to have one already," Rex whined.

Mr. Potato Head held up one of his extra plastic arms. "Do we have to hold hands?"

The toys nudged one another and laughed. Woody shook his head. "Oh, yeah. You guys think this is a big joke. We've only got one week left before the move. I don't want any toys left behind. A moving buddy—if you don't have one, get one!"

Woody looked back at his doodle pad. "All right, next.… Oh, yes. Tuesday night's Plastic Corrosion Awareness meeting was a big success, and we want to thank Mr. Spell for putting that on for us. Thanks, Mr. Spell."

"You're welcome," the electronic Mr. Spell droned, the words scrolling across his display screen.

Woody stared at his list, stalling. There was no use putting it off any longer. He had bad news. The toys would have to be told.

"Oh, yes. One minor note here." Woody's voice dropped to a whisper. "Andy's birthday party's been moved to today." He coughed and shouted, "Next, we have—"

The room exploded into squeaks, squeals, bells, barks, and whistles.

"What do you mean, the party's today?" Rex exclaimed. "His birthday's not till next week!" Woody held up his hands. "Well, obviously Andy's mom wanted to have the party before the move. I'm not worried. You shouldn't be worried."

Mr. Potato Head elbowed his way to the front of the crowd, glaring at the sheriff. "Of course Woody ain't worried!" he cried. "He's been Andy's favorite since kindergarten!"

Some of the toys mumbled their agreement.

"Hey! Come on, Potato Head," Slinky responded, speaking up for his pal. "If Woody says it's all right, then, well, darn it, it's good enough for me. Woody has never steered us wrong before."

Woody jumped down from the podium and walked through the crowd, looking each toy straight in the eye. "Listen, no one's getting replaced," he said soothingly. "It doesn't matter how much we're played with. What matters is that we're here for Andy when he needs us. That's what we're made for. Right?"

One by one, the whirring, muttering, chiming toys fell silent, feeling at least a little reassured.

Hamm the piggy bank finally broke the silence. "Pardon me," he called from the window- sill. "I hate to break up the staff meeting, but… THEY'RE HERE! BIRTHDAY GUESTS AT THREE O'CLOCK!"