Chapter

Back in Al’s apartment, Woody stared at the TV screen in awe. He, Jessie, Bullseye, and the Prospector had been watching old episodes of Woody’s Roundup for hours.

“Next tape!” Woody shouted when an episode featuring a dramatic cliffhanger came to an end. Jessie stood up and clicked the TV off with her boot.

“Wait a minute!” exclaimed Woody. “What happened? Come on, let’s see the next episode!”

“That’s it,” said the Prospector.

“What?” asked Woody.

“The show was canceled after that,” the Prospector explained.

“What about the gold mine and the cute little critters and the dynamite?” asked Woody. “It was a great show! Why cancel it?”

“Two words,” replied the Prospector. “Sput-nik. Once the astronauts went up, children only wanted to play with space toys.”

“I know how that feels,” said Woody, thinking back to his early relationship with Buzz. He glanced at the Roundup collection surrounding him. “But still, my own show. Look at all this stuff!” Woody walked across the top of a display cabinet, admiring all the different Woody’s Roundup collectibles. Soon Jessie and Bullseye joined him.

“Didn’t you know? Why, you’re valuable property,” said Jessie.

“Oh, I wish the guys could see this. Hey howdy hey, that’s me! I’m on a yo-yo!” Woody said, picking up a yo-yo with his face on it and giving it a spin. Next he walked over to a game labeled WOODY’S BALL TOSS and threw a ball, knocking a tooth out of a picture of himself. He put some coins in the Roundup bank, then began pumping a bubble machine. “What…you push the hat, and out comes…Oh, out come bubbles! Clever.” Woody was getting used to the idea of being the star of his own TV show. In fact, he was beginning to like it.

Jessie and the Prospector laughed as Bullseye began popping the bubbles with his mouth as they came out. Woody continued to explore, examining a large boot on the shelf. He stepped on the spur on the boot’s heel, and a spring snake jumped out, smacking him in the face. “Ah-ha-ha, I get it! There’s a snake in my boot.” He picked up the boot and pointed it down the shelf. “Bullseye—go long!” he called before firing the snake into the air.

Bullseye ran after it and happily leaped into the air, missing the snake but landing on a Woody’s Roundup record player. It turned on and began cranking out old Western music, spinning Bullseye around and around as it played. Woody and Jessie jumped on the record player with him, and all three toys began to dance. Woody made a game of jumping up to avoid the arm, and Jessie joined him, hopping in time to the music.

“Not bad,” said Woody. Then he turned up the speed of the record player, and Jessie, Bullseye, and Woody all began laughing and racing to keep up.

“Whooo-eee!” shouted Jessie. “Look at us! We’re a complete set!”

“Now it’s on to the museum!” said the Prospector.

“Museum?” asked Woody. He stopped short, causing all of them to trip over the arm of the record player. Jessie shrieked as they flew across the room and landed in a heap on the shelf. “What museum?” asked Woody, confused.

“We’re being sold to the Konishi Toy Museum in Tokyo,” explained the Prospector excitedly.

“That’s in Japan!” added Jessie.

“Japan? I can’t go to Japan,” said Woody, standing up and brushing the dust from his knees.

“What do you mean?” asked Jessie, straightening her braid.

“I’ve got to get back home to my owner, Andy! Look, see?” Woody raised his boot and pointed to the name ANDY written on its sole.

“He still has an owner!” gasped Jessie.

“Oh, my goodness,” said the Prospector, scratching his head.

“I can’t do storage again. I won’t go back in the dark,” Jessie declared nervously, starting to hyperventilate.

“Jessie!” cried the Prospector as the cowgirl moaned frantically.

“What’s the matter? What’s wrong with her?” asked Woody.

The Prospector turned to Woody. “Well, we’ve been in storage for a long time,” he explained. “Waiting for you.”

“Why me?” asked Woody.

“The museum’s only interested in the collection if you’re in it, Woody. Without you, we go back into storage. It’s that simple.”

“It’s not fair!” cried Jessie. “How can you do this to us?”

“Hey, look.” Woody put his arms up and backed away. “I’m sorry, but this is all a big mistake. See, I was in this yard sale and—”

“Yard sale?” said the Prospector. “Why were you in a yard sale if you have an owner?”

“Well, I wasn’t supposed to be there,” Woody explained. “I was trying to save another toy, and—”

“Was it because you’re damaged? Did this Andy break you?” asked the Prospector.

Woody cradled his broken arm defensively. “Yes, but…No, no, no! It was an accident. I mean—”

“Sounds like he really loves you,” snapped Jessie sarcastically.

“It’s not like that, okay?” shouted Woody. “And I’m not going to any museum!”

“Well, I’m not going back into storage!” Jessie shouted right back.

Suddenly, the apartment door creaked open. “Al’s coming!” warned the Prospector. The Roundup gang scrambled to their packing boxes.

But Jessie couldn’t bring herself to jump in.

“Jessie, I promise you’ll come out of the box. Now go!” urged the Prospector. Jessie finally jumped in. Bullseye and the Prospector followed as Woody ran back to his glass case.

Seconds later, Al entered the room, carrying a camera. “It’s showtime!” he said with a laugh. He pulled Bullseye and Jessie out of their box and arranged them in front of a cardboard Roundup barn for a photo. “Money, money, money,” he said to himself with a chuckle. “And now, the main attraction.” He grabbed Woody from his case, but a thread from Woody’s torn shoulder caught on his display stand. As Al pulled Woody away, Woody’s arm ripped off completely and fell to the floor. “Aaaaah!” yelled Al, finally noticing. “His arm! Where’s his arm?”

Al found the arm on the ground, grabbed it, and tried to reattach it to Woody’s shoulder. “What am I going to do?” he cried hysterically. “Oh, I know, I know.” Al dropped Woody and reached for the phone, dialing with desperation.

“It’s me—Al. I got an emergency here!” he barked into the phone. “It has to be tonight! All right, all right. But first thing in the morning!” Al slammed down the phone and stomped out of the room.

“It’s gone!” said Woody, horrified. “I can’t believe it. My arm is completely gone!”

“Come here,” said the Prospector. “Let me see that. Oh, it’s just a popped seam. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Lucky! Are you shrink-wrapped?” said Woody. “I am missing my arm!”

Jessie sat on the display cabinet and frowned. “Let him go. I’m sure his precious Andy is dying to play with a one-armed cowboy doll.”

“Why, Jessie,” replied the Prospector, “you know he wouldn’t last an hour on the streets in his condition. It’s a dangerous world out there for a toy.”