Nuts of fate

Set in the same world as: The Invite that Sparked this Otter Chaos

***********

Ace sat atop a roof, his gaze wandered the vast expanse before him. The sun was setting. Off in the distance, the city hall’s bells rang, it was the end of the shift for the city, and the beginning of his journey. His gaze slowly traveled down to the mail pouch at his side. He took a deep breath.

“Another delivery to nut knows where…”

Behind him, something squeaked, or rather someone. Scratching noises were heard, and then a thump.

“Some are born to climb, while otters are born to walk.”

He swiftly turned around and made his way to the opposite side of the roof, his claws dug into the wood and he hung half of his long body over the ledge and glanced down at a small, orange fox that lay amidst the garbage bags in the alley, a crooked Ded-Ex mail service cap hung off his ear.

“You alright Rock?”

“It’s Bro…k” Said a shaky voice from beneath.

“Alright bro, let’s go then.”

The otter quickly made his way down the pole and beckoned his side kick who struggled to crawl out from underneath the garbage bags.

“No sir! It’s B…rock” He struggled, clawing his way out.

“Aye, be-rock, be as-rock!”

A few moments later the fox finally managed to regroup with his mentor.

“Ace, boss, uhh, so what’s on the agenda?”

The otter shrugged.

“Oh the usual, smuggling.”

“Smuggling?” inquired Brok curiously, tilting his head to the side.

“Don’t worry about it, kid!” Ace responded confidently.

“Just follow my lead, I am the S rank courier for a reason.”

“That’s what scares me…” Replied the fox, his voice trailing off.

“But first…” Ace paused, sniffing the air. “Smell that?”

The fox followed his lead and sniffed around.

“Fish?”

Ace grinned.

“Otterly delicious fish!”

They made their way to the nearby café that had received fresh fish.

“Aha!” Ace commented, peeking through the window.

“What is it boss?”

“It’s not what, it’s fish! The best, from deep dark down below. A legendary dancing tuna.” He said, swallowing hard. Saliva dripped off his chin.

“Boss?”

“Yeah, come, we disguise as chefs and snatch some.”

“We do whaaaat?” Brok called out in a concerned tone, but Ace was already gone. He had already perfectly planned out his performance. He goes to the back, knocks, sneaks in through the door when they open it, steals a uniform, puts on mustache, ‘mustache… where do I get a mustache? The fox! Fluffy tail, good mustache! Use fox as scarf, tail as mustache, perfect plan. You’re an otter genius!’ He thought to himself and proceeded to put his plan into action. First the fox. He came back where Brok was standing, perplexed by his mentor’s disappearance.

“Get on me.”

“Whoat? A…A….ah… b..but boss…. I’m not… it’s….” His tail swung side to side hesitantly.

“On my shoulders, now!” Ace commanded.

The fox obeyed, but the plan was doomed for failure, the fox was far too heavy for the little otter to carry around his shoulders. As Ace lay there, his small body pressed by the fox’s warm fluff into the cold, hard, bricks, he contemplated his plan.

“Plan… be!” he groaned, slowly suffocating.

“Give me your fluff…” His voice was muffled, and lack of oxygen was obvious. The fox leaped off.

“Sorry boss?”

Ace got up and dusted himself off.

“No worries, apprentice. Stand right here, lift your tail, there ya go.”

In a swift snip he cut a piece of the fox’s tail’s fluff off, then licked it, and put it just under his nose, it barely hung on.

“Wait here!”

Brok watched him, confusion visible on his face, a lonely tear formed in the corner of his eye, a gentle sniffle followed.

“Okay boss…”

Ace thought his apprentice was proud of his genius plan. But Brok was just trying not to cry about the new bald spot on his tail.

Ace knocked on the back door. The door was opened by a crow. She glanced out into the alley. No one around. She stepped out to peek around the door. Still empty. At that time, Ace, who was desperately clawing onto the little outdoor light above the door, at last, let go, grabbed onto the door frame and tarzan-style swung himself into the café’s kitchen. He was swift on his paws, a quick glance around revealed multiple doors. One labeled changing room that’s where uniforms would be. He made a dash for it through the little hallway, the main kitchen was to his right past two large, swinging doors. He could smell the fish and hear it flopping around. The muffled sounds of music echoed from inside the kitchen. He made it to the changing rooms. The coast was clear. He opened the door and snuck in. Quickly grabbed the smallest-sized uniform he could find and threw it on, now posing as a chef, he confidently walked out, into a goose.

“Oh, good uh, evening sir. I’m, uh, Drew.”

Ace smirked at him, twirling his fox tail fluff mustache.

“I did not.”

The goose tilted it’s head to the side.

“Huh?”

Ace nodded.

“I did not draw you. I don’t draw.”

He walked past the confused goose who was desperately trying to figure out what the chef meant. The otter in the meantime walked to the kitchen doors and pushed them open, trying to hold back his desire to sink his claws into the tuna.

As the doors swung open before him, he marveled at the indescribable scene that welcomed his gaze. There, on the kitchen floor, between the aisles, a chubby chef was breakdancing. A flapping tuna fish was flapping on the table next to him. Off to the side, other chefs were cheering him on, gangster style.

“Go chief, go chief, go chief.”

They cheered. The chef finished his dance by striking a pose on the ground, akin to the draw me like your French girls. Ace chuckled as he jumped up on the counter to observe.

Ace sat atop the counter behind them, bemused by the scene before him. The fish jumped up onto its rear fin, and then proceeded to do a stepdance, on a fin. The chefs stepped back, amazed by the talented creature that they had dared to challenge. The chef who was breakdancing stepped away.

“Nah this thing is too good! Go sous chef, show her what ya got.”

The sous chef stepped up and cracked his neck. He was a giant, a giant silverback gorilla. He proceeded to perform a salsa dance with the orangutan chef from the crowd. The fish clapped its fins, it seemed amused, but not good enough.

Ace smirked.

“Now’s my chance.” He remarked to himself. An idea sparked in his mind. Figure ice skating, without an ice ring. He swiftly ran for the ice maker, grabbed 4 cubes of ice with his paws, and then slid right in, between all the other chefs, onto the dance floor. The spectacle he put on included twirls, spins, and splits but also ramming his snout into a wall. The crowd went silent in awe, as the dazed otter slowly picked himself up after his head-spinning performance. He rubbed his nose.

“Ouff… that was otterly disgraceful.”

After checking his mustache he glanced over his shoulder at the awe-struck crowd of chefs, and the fish.

“Or?” He waited, and waited. “Or?? Come on guys… I can’t be on a see-food diet all day, I want to eat the food I see.”

At last the fish bowed. The chefs clapped.

“What does this mean?”

The head chef grinned.

“At last, Roger, our finest chef, wins over the dancing tuna!”

“Roger dodger.” Ace responded with a shrug.

“Who’s Dodger?”

Ace snorted lightly, trying to hold back laughter.

“No matter. I cook it now?”

“No! you make a wish!”

“You’ve got to be tuna me! I wish to eat it!”

Ace called out. The fish flopped down, and in an instant, turned from a living fish, into a perfectly fried fish filet.

“Nooo! What did you do????” Called out the head chef. Ace cared not for his remarks, he was salivating, the fish looked way too good. He leaped onto the table, grabbed the filet and ran away. Echoes of cries and despair followed him.

Once outside, the fox greeted him once more.

“You’ve done great doing your part,” Ace remarked, pulling the filet out of his pocket.

“What part? Acting like a rock?”

Ace grinned.

“Precisely my friend! At last you acknowledge your true calling, B-rock.”

The fox sighed lightly and mumbled under his breath.

“It’s Brok…”

A light sniffle was quickly replaced by a gasp when he smelled the fish.

“Whoa! That smells great.”

And so their journey continued, on a new note, and a full stomach. The sun had set, the night air was chilly. They approached the port. Ace eyed the customs post from afar.

“You know what they say?”

“Uhh… no…”

“Well… B-rock, they say – be confident, and they won’t stop you.”

He smirked confidently, eyeing the port’s security and customs section that he had to sneak through with his illegal cargo in the pouch.  

“Rock. Do you know what time of the year it is?”

“Uhh… n..no?” Brok replied hesitantly.

“It’s the dreaded month… No Nut November… Do you know what that means my young apprentice?”

The fox shrugged.

“No, nuts, allowed…??”

“CORRECT!” Ace responded confidently.

“And remember how I said we got smuggling to do?”

“OH NO!”

“OH YEAH!!”

“But why…” The fox whimpered hesitantly, following his mentor, Ace, the S rank courier, who was dressed as a peanut… On the No Nut November, he and only he would think to dress as a peanut and try to go through customs to get on a ship to another country, while carrying a bag of nuts with him.

“It’s important…” Ace responded.

“Across the sea, in the land of Nosea, a terrible plague broke out… These nuts are medicinal. Fates of many animals depend on this delivery.”

He clenched his fist.

“We’ll get them delivered, my young foxawan.”

“Foxawhat?” Brok inquired.

“Haven’t you see the Spatial Wars: The Fox Awakens? Ugh… younglings these days…”

Said the peanut, well, the otter inside a peanut suit.

“Halt!”

Said a pigeon in a uniform, eyeing the peanut, and a fox beside it with a stern gaze.

“You’re nut going through.”

Ace snorted.

“Hah! Good one, officer.”

“Am I a joke to you?” inquired the customs and security officer.

“No sir, but the joke clearly flew over your head.”

The pigeon squinted angrily and pointed his wing at the peanut.

“Listen here. You must be nuts thinking you can cross the border in that ridiculous outfit.”

Upon examining their documents, he, the pigeon, stamped DENIED into the peanut’s passport.

“Why officer?” Ace inquired sarcastically.

“First of all, your name is Ace but you said you’re Peanuts Parker. Secondly, you look NOTHING like your picture in the passport, and thirdly, no nuts this November!”

Ace heeded him no attention, in fact, by the time the pigeon shifted his focus from the passport to the peanut, he was long gone, only the suit remained, and a fox, that sat still as a rock, beside it. The pigeon glanced around.

“And you?”

The fox’s eyes widened.

“I am new.”

“Hello New, welcome. Your ship to Nosea is departing in 2 hours. Enjoy your trip.”

The fox sighed.

“No, I’m Brok…”

“Oh, you’re broke? We offer pay-over-time services.” The pigeon pulled out a flyer and slammed it on the table.

“If you grab this bundle you get to pay for your ticket in 6, interest-free payments, over a year! Every other month. How’s that?”

The fox sighed, carefully he reached into his bag, and then realized, half the nuts contraband was in his pouch. He tried not to panic upon realizing that. He reached for his travel card, and set it on the table to make the payment. His anxiety was obvious, but the pigeon thought he was just nervous about his first cross-sea journey. As the fox walked through the gates the pigeon waved him goodbye.

“And remember, there’s much to sea…”

In the meantime, Ace had escaped the customs station, snuck under the conveyor belt into the sorting facility, and posed as the city inspector. A hard hat on his hat, and an empty clipboard in hand, he walked amidst the workers.

“Uhuh! Mhmmmm… Yappu! That looks greeeat! You my friend need a new crow-n…”

He remarked at a balding crow, swiftly making his way through the sorting facility for the luggage. He stumbled out the door just as the ship’s horns echoed.

“Ah crap that scared the mustache off of me! Oh wait, I don’t got one.”

He tapped his bag and made a dash for the ship. But he knew that without a ticket nobody would let him in. But he had more aces up his sleeve. He pulled out an old cap from his bag, a ship captain’s hat. Old memories washed over him. ‘Roger, sir.’ ‘Roger that.’ ‘No sir, just Roger.’

The memories of the eyelashes cult, and the remarkably friendly crew of that cruise on his last mission. He sighed; it couldn’t possibly be as enjoyable this time around. He put the cap on and adjusted it, and then walked up the boarding ramp with confidence in every step he took. The staff member saluted him.

“Captain? You’re early.”

He glanced at the teenager looking boy who was checking the tickets.

“Name?”

“Will, sir.”

“You will, bring me coffee then? Okay.”

“Uhh, no sir, I mean, yes sir, I will, but I’m Will.”

“Yes you will, I’ll be waiting.”

He walked past him, and then took a while to examine the ship’s map before finding the captain’s quarters. A quick rest at the quarters, and then another captain walked in.

“What in the bloody hells?” Ace shrugged.

“Who names their ship Bloody Hells? Kind of weird…”

The captain shrugged.

“The factory did.”

Ace smirked.

“But my name isn’t What, you must be mistaking me for anotter one.”

The captain gasped, and then his lights went out, after a loud ‘wham’.

The journey was rather uneventful. As they reached the land, the ship switched to a landcruise mode, giant skates protruding from underneath the ship allowed it to effortlessly glide over the grand sand-dune barrier of the Nosea land. He watched the fox disembark the ship from the bridge, Brok was still confused, and not knowing where to go to deliver the contraband of medicine that’d save the plagued town, he too disembarked, but over the mooring lines, as to not be seen, and questioned, why the captain is leaving when the ship is meant to embark on a return journey in a couple of hours.

“You’re quite the sly guy, snuck the contraband through the customs. Well done, maybe you are good at more than just being a rock as your name suggests.”

Ace slammed the fox on the side in a friendly gesture.

“Ah! Boss man!? How’d you, huh? Eh?”

The confused fox glanced at his ship captain’s cap and then at the ship.

“You did not… You did what?”

“Did What? I did nut!” Ace shrugged.

“Ah, bloody hells was fun.”

“Bloody HELLS??” The fox panicked.

“The ship’s name.”

“Alright listen here foxy! These nuts are precious. Each of us is carrying enough to cure the village of…”

Ace paused, reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled piece of paper, and then read out. “The village of 43.7823*N 2.3894*E, that is plagued by a plague. Cliché, I know, such is our job. Sometimes we deliver love letters, other times we deliver life savings, literally, or figuratively…”

After a few more steps he realized, he was talking to himself. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. The fox sat still as a rock, his ears drooped down, tail wagging side to side. Ace watched his apprentice curiously for a moment, and then followed his gaze. It led to a, tail.

“You’ve gotta be foxing with me right now….”

Ace almost growled but kept his otter cool. He approached his apprentice and grabbed him by the ear.

“What’s a tail got to do with saving lives?”

But Brok just marveled at the gorgeous fox with the fluffiest tail imaginable, just down the street.

“She’s… mine…” Broke commented.

Ace glanced at the fluffy-tailed fox.

“She? Is this like your… foxtuition or a fact?”

Broke glanced at him, still being pulled down by his ear.

“That’s Clear, she’s my fiancé… I…” His jaw dropped open when she turned around. “I’m melting….”

Ace glanced at her.

“I see her yes, crystal clear, I mean she’s right there, but we got a job to do.”

He turned around to leave, pulling his companion by the ear. But the fox did not budge.

“Ughh… Fine! Go be swooned and wrap your tails or whatever it is you foxers do. I’ll make the deliver myself.”

That was all Brok needed to hear. He leaped to his feet and rushed off in an instant. And so Ace, was alone, once more. Stern, focused, goal oriented. The epitome of a courier. The finest courier of them all. Nothing would ever stop him from making his delivery on time. Except a big elephant leg into which he walked when he turned around to leave.

He grabbed a local map, and a compass, and ventured to the plagued village. The journey was long, but not too long, the village was about 3 camel-stops away from Nosea’s port city. Once there, he discovered a dried-out forest. It was plagued by drought. The squirrels in the village were weak and sickly. But Ace’s delivery was on time. Ace earned a medal for this heroic trip.

Despite breaking the international law of No Nut November, his delivery saved a dozen squirrel lives. The new medal that decorated his chest proudly now, read.

The nuttiest of all

And such was another, heroic journey of Ace, the ace courier. 

Audience prompts for this tale

• Maybe… a sickness, a real bad one

• I’m in the mood for some romance :3

• Mmm…. How about… Fox?

• A story of love, and death… perhaps a little of the classic trifecta then? inject a little comedic timing? Love, death and comedy do so play well together after all.