Note: minor spoilers for the Spirits of Sin Saga.
Blueberry walks through his forest with Tommy, Yin-Yang and Zip.
Yin-Yang’s pushing the herd’s cart, filled with brownies.
They’re on their way to do some business with the golden berry herd again.
Despite everything that’s happened since his first meeting with the Death of Fluffies, despite the responsibilities as a ChaotiX member he has these days, and despite the beautiful blue fighting machine he owns, currently parked outside the Fonda cabin, Blueberry makes an effort to remain involved with the day-to-day operations of the Fluffy Cartel.
He still takes a graveyard shift of guard duty here and there. He actually enjoys it, it makes him feel nostalgic.
Like all ChaotiX members, Blueberry knows how important it is to keep doing normal things too.
And compared to fighting demons and robots, exploring a pro-abuse conspiracy’s space station, or doing battle with a gestalt entity made of fluffy souls (who wanted to add Blueberry’s soul to the collection), making a transaction with another herd isn’t really that challenging.
It’s been a long time since that black smarty was ousted from the golden berry herd after botching a deal.
He was never seen again, so it’s safe to say that he’s dead by now.
And the Fluffy Cartel has been doing fair business with the golden berry herd’s new smarty.
That the cart doesn’t only have one brownie in it should make that clear.
Tommy puffs on an atomica as the group walks.
“This is nice. It’s just like old times, Escofluff.”
Blueberry giggles.
“Yuh, wike bee-fowe we aww gut powahs.”
“Yin-Yang nu haf anee powahs.”
“Gib it time, yu neba knu. Fuh-numma-num Ecks can pop up at anee pawt of yu wife. Wud be nice tu wowk in da feewd tugeba.”
Blueberry’s told the smarties of the other herds in the forest to let him know if fluffies from their herds develop any superhu… superfluffy abilities.
That’s not how he phrased it, mind you. His exact words were “If anee fwuffies stawt duin weiwd shit dat fwuffies nu am sup-post tu du, yu teww Bwuebewwy pwon-toh. Dat meen weawwy fasties.”
He’s got a hotline to Calvin Korkea, who fluffies know as the Bestest Hoomin, and who will be happy to train those X-Positive fluffies.
Even if they intend to go back to their herd, and merely use their powers to help their herd, instead of joining the ChaotiX.
What matters is that they’re using their powers constructively, and that they have control over their powers.
When Rock crossed Threshold X and accidentally killed a fluffy from a rival herd, word spread fast.
Rock’s at the Brownie Palace. Yin-Yang is the Captain of the Guard, the Fluffy Cartel’s head toughy and Blueberry’s best friend, and Rock is Yin-Yang’s second-in-command. So Rock is acting head toughy while Yin-Yang is out on business.
Speaking of fast, then there’s Zip. He’s not a ChaotiX member, but he puts his superspeed to use here in the forest, working as a messenger. And with Flufftopia now selling saddlebags for fluffies, and the founder of FauCorp being a neighbor of the Cartel, Zip has been promoted to courier.
Yin-Yang may be the Captain of the Guard, but Zip is the Postmaster General.
If more fluffies could get the hang of the whole reading and writing thing, Zip might find himself delivering letters.
He’s compensated for his time, mind you. For example, should Blueberry need to send a message to the golden berry herd, they’ll usually have a free sample of their crop waiting for Zip.
Considering how slow a normo fluffy tends to be, Zip’s speedy deliveries make him very popular among every herd in the area. The average fluffy might take all day to reach their destination, and that’s assuming they don’t get lost, for which fluffies tend to have a depressing knack.
So no herd wants to get on Zip’s bad side, and risk him refusing to service that herd anymore.
Don’t fuck with the fluffy who delivers your mail.
Of course, Zip is fully aware of how he could abuse his position, but he doesn’t want to abuse it.
The longer he does his job, the more he thinks like a postman. Zip has unwittingly tapped into the collective consciousness of couriers across the multiverse, and certain ideas have inextricably lodged themselves in his mind.
For reasons he can’t quite explain, he feels like his job desperately requires a hat, possibly with little wings on it. Pierre is currently working on some designs in his cabin lab.
And Zip has developed the loathing for dogs that all postmen share.
To be fair, dogs are usually not very fond of postmen either.
The point is, Zip can’t shake the notion that it would be wrong for him to abuse his position.
It’s not up to him to decide where he makes the deliveries, or to who. His job is just to make the deliveries.
And neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night will stay this adorable courier from the swift completion of his appointed rounds.
This has earned him a very special privilege:
Besides Blueberry and Yin-Yang, Zip is the only member of the Cartel allowed to see the Death of Fluffies on a regular basis.
It’s a show of courtesy, from one public servant to another.
The group reaches their destination, a clearing where the golden berries grow.
The golden berry herd has toughies surrounding the bushes, warily glaring at their guests.
The smarty of the herd is waiting here too. A white and yellow stallion, a few more toughies with him.
They’re just here to transport the goods.
“Hewwo, Bwuebewwy. Yu am uw-wee.”
Blueberry grins as he hugs the other smarty.
“How can yu teww, Gowdenwod? Yu nu gutta cwock.”
“Otay, faiw enuff. We nu haf bin wait-in vewy wong.”
It’s a brief hug, the fluffy equivalent of a handshake.
To the casual observer, it’s hard to tell, but there’s subtle differences between the different kinds of hugs fluffies share.
In fact, if you pay attention, you can discern how a fluffy feels about another fluffy, just from the way they hug that other fluffy.
Needless to say, if two fluffies are close friends, their hugs tend to be frequent and long.
But Blueberry is here for business, not pleasure, and as much as he’d like to spend all day hugging, he’s got shit to do.
With the formalities out of the way, he gestures at the cart with a hoof.
“Bwuebewwy fink dat yu wiww fine dat ev-wee-fing am in ow-duw.”
Tommy nods, still puffing away.
“Trust us, it’s quality stuff. Baked 'em myself this morning, they’re still a bit warm. Woodstock tried one, and last time I saw him, he was so toasted he couldn’t find his hooves. You need any help unloading that cart?”
Goldenrod cracks a grin.
“Yu am da onwy wun hewe wif handsies, su wut du yu fink?”
Yes, it’s not just Blueberry’s herd that has names now. The ChaotiX has been brainstorming names for every fluffy in the forest.
Fucking Pierre, of course, could tell you exactly how many fluffies live in this forest.
A lot of that brainstorming took place on Tommy’s veranda, and Pierre’s greenhouses helped things along.
“Alright, lemme just finish this. Who wants a hit?”
“Mebbeh watew, Tommeh. Biz-niz bee-fowe pweh-suwe.”
“This is a bit of both, Escofluff.”
“Too-shay.”
Once the atomica is finished, Tommy starts unloading the cart, Goldenrod’s toughies carrying the brownies back to their nest, one by one.
Blueberry gave his fellow smarty a tip, and Goldenrod chooses toughies who don’t like feew-gud nummies for these kinds of jobs.
They can be trusted not to help themselves while no one’s looking.
Once the cart is empty, Tommy gets to work helping the toughies pick enough berries. Blueberry walks in with a cart full of brownies, and walks out with a cart full of berries. That’s the deal.
The berries will be kept in the fridge in the Fonda cabin. They actually got a second fridge, just for the Cartel.
That’s also where the Cartel’s stash is kept.
It’s a lot more hygienic, and a lot safer too. To a fluffy, the glass door separating the veranda from the interior of the cabin may as well be an impenetrable force field.
The cabins also have actual force fields too, including the new silver force fields.
Remember who built those cabins.
As Tommy and the toughies work, the smarties chat, catching up.
Goldenrod once suggested that Blueberry use his Blaukörper to pick berries, but retracted the suggestion when Blueberry explained what happened when he tried to hold an atomica with his Blaukörper.
Goldenrod quickly figured out that the berries would be crushed to a pulp.
Which gave Tommy the idea to make a smoothie with those berries.
It wasn’t half bad.
Next time, he’s going to try making a milkshake with them instead. Niek, a Dutchman, illusionist and fellow ChaotiX member, recommended to Tommy that he use slagroomijs.
It’s basically ice cream made with whipping cream, and it’s as delicious as it sounds.
Now also available at Stahl-Eis.
“Su, how am yu speciaw fwend duin, Gowdenwod?”
“She jus had da babbehs. Dey aww am gud babbehs.”
“Oh, cawn-gwats.”
“Yu, uh, eba fink abowt habin babbehs again, Bwuebewwy?”
“Bwuebewwy gut tuu much awn Bwuebewwy pwate tu gu fwu dat again. But Dawt am finkin abowt habin babbehs wif Pwince again. Bwuebewwy stiww nu can bee-weev dat Bwuebewwy am awweady a gwampa. Bwuebewwy nu eben feew dat owd. Oh shit, Bwuebewwy jus wee-ah-wized sumfin.”
“Wut?”
“Bwuebewwy am da Piewwe of fwuffies.”
Once the cart is full of golden berries, Blueberry and his group departs, bidding Goldenrod and his toughies farewell, another transaction successfully completed.
Blueberry leads the way home, Yin-Yang dutifully pushing the cart, Tommy lighting another atomica.
If Yin-Yang starts getting tired, Blueberry will happily take over for him.
Zip has gone ahead, to let Maria and the rest of the Cartel know that the deal was a success.
“Dat went weww.”
“Another day, another dollar. Things are going pretty smoothly in the forest these days, Big Blue.”
Blueberry looks up at the sky through the treetops, remembering the days when he knew nothing about the universe beyond Earth, or much about the Earth beyond his forest.
On some nights, he’d look up at the stars and wonder if there was more to them than just pretty glowing dots on a big black thing.
Now, he’s been to space, and seen for himself just how much there is to the stars. He’s been to the Snowflake, the space station the ChaotiX stole from the Abuse Syndicate, and he’s seen the spectacular view of the Earth from orbit. He’s been to the distant planet of Mechaworld, a planet populated by mechanical life. He’s been to the pocket universe Primal Earth exists in, a primitive world of cavepeople and dinosaurs. And he’s been to the magical side of the universe, to the pseudo-medieval kingdom of Drakonia.
And he’s seen how many threats lurk beyond this humble blue marble.
When he was still but a newly reincarnated foal, Blueberry thought that the Earth was a very big place.
Now, he realizes how small it really is.
“Dewe am aww kines of pwob-wems owt-side da fowest, foh.”
“True, but they’re ChaotiX problems, not Cartel problems. Cal will call us if there’s another day that needs saving or something. Until then, we keep it chill, and we keep it real. We focus on the little things, we stop and smell the roses, we take it easy, my dudes.”
“It am nice tu stwetch Bwuebewwy weggies. Bwuebewwy nu gutta yoos da Bwauw-kaw-pew fow ev-wee-fing.”
Yin-Yang grins up at Tommy.
“Mebbeh Tommeh cud git wunna dem fings made, an paint it wots of cowows wike da Mummahship.”
Tommy takes another puff.
“Naw, Yin-Yang. I’m a pacifist, dude. I don’t need a fighting machine. If I had my way, we’d all be making love, not war, like the Dunnans do.”
Blueberry shrugs.
“Sumtimes yu gutta fite fow wut am wite. Dewe am doze hu wowdsies awone nu can weech.”
“Well, maybe you just need to find the right words. Look at how many conflicts Cal has resolved with words, Escofluff. He talked Al and Fran out of killin’ everyone, for starters.”
“Otay, gud point.”
“But I’ll admit that I would probably put my pacifism aside for a bit if someone tried to hurt Maria, or Moonflower. Every man’s got his limit, maaaan.”
“Tommeh, if sumwun twy tu gib Moonfwowew owwies, yu am gunna haf tu wace Bwuebewwy tu da bas-tuwd.”
Puff, puff.
“Never mess with a ChaotiX member’s kid, that’s a good rule to live your life by.”
Yin-Yang laughs.
“Yu bof am gunna wose tu Caw. Wut did he say? He nu am gunna wet anee of da Kay-oh-tiks fwends an famiwy git, uh, Gwen Stay-seed? Yin-Yang haf nu ai-dee-yuh wut dat meen.”
“It’s a comic book thing, Yin-Yang. One of the classics. I told Maria, man, if you ever catch me wrapping brownies up with The Night Gwen Stacy Died, shoot me, babe, 'cause it’s some kinda alien impostor wearing me like a skin suit.”
“Yin-Yang stiww nu git it.”
“I’ll show you later, dude. After we put the loot away. Big Blue here can actually read comic books.”
Blueberry nods.
“Vic haf bin shu-in Bwuebewwy a com-ick cawwed Da Mask. An Bwuebewwy haf seen da moo-vee wif Scawface, su Bwuebewwy fowt da com-ick wud be wike dat. But dam, Stan-wee am a asshowe in da com-ick.”
“They were going to make the movie more like the comic, but then they cast Jim Carrey, and, well…”
“Hey, Tommeh, dey made a see-kwew tu Da Mask, wite?”
“Yeah.”
“Den wai du Vic awways say dat dewe nu am a see-kwew?”
“…Because it’s really, really bad, Escofluff.”
“How bad can da see-kwew be?”
“They replaced Jim Carrey with Jamie Kennedy.”
“Oh. Dat am bad.”
“See? Vic’s got a point, man.”
“Yin-Yang nu eben knu hu Jay-mee Keh-nuh-dee am.”
Lighting his third atomica, Tommy launches into a completely unsolicited lecture on the history of The Mask and its various adaptations.
While Blueberry hangs on every word, Yin-Yang just nods along, not really understanding it.
Yin-Yang still doesn’t understand what “getting Gwen Stacy’d” means, either, but Tommy will probably remember that by the time they reach the cabin.
Sometimes, when Tommy’s reading a bedtime story for Moonflower, he’ll put the well-loved copy of Where’s My Cow? away, and grab a comic book instead.
Relax, he sticks to kid-friendly stuff.
Meanwhile, near Pierre’s cabin, a man in a ghillie suit watches the dodo pen, lying on the ground and holding a pair of binoculars.
Then a brown warbler lands on the man’s binoculars.
“Tweet.”
The man shoos the warbler away, apparently not noticing that the bird said “tweet” instead of actually tweeting.
“Opzouten, kutvogel! Ik wil jou niet opeten!”
But the warbler isn’t so easily scared off.
With a sound like chicken nuggets in a blender, the warbler turns into an eagle.
“Screech-screech, motherfucker! Beat it before I drop you like a turtle!”
The Dutch sailor in disguise gets up and flees, leaving the binoculars behind.
When he’s out of sight, Paul reverts to human form, and laughs.
“Aaaaah, I love it when a new batch of those morons shows up! They never see this coming!”
Then he turns into a rabbit, and runs toward the cabin.