Chapter Text
Moooon didn't much care for this plan, but she had to admit. Pepsie had her by the shame-globes.
MOOOON: I don't like this. It's risky.
PEPSIE: You're being short-sighted, my good buddy. You're not looking at the big picture. You're limiting yourself to a series of events. You're torn up by the ever-present question... "What if it goes wrong?"
DOCTER: I think it sounds fun! :)
Moooon and Pepsie both looked at Docter witheringly. All three of them knew Docter would sign on to any plan, no matter how hare-brained.
MOOOON: Of course I'm thinking about "what if it goes wrong," because "if it goes wrong," we all get culled by drones, possibly on-sight. It's criminal. Theft. Copyright.
PEPSIE: Whoa whoa whoa! Who said anything about *crime?* We're just doin' some above-board "modern marketing" with a proven brand.
Moooon rolled her eyes. Pepsie changed course, knowing her jargonese wouldn't sway the stalwart limeblood.
PEPSIE: I know you want to add another inch or two to that big old horde of yours.
Moooon bit her lip. Her hoard... Her precious Money Pile. She loved how it sparkled... She imagined how it would look with Pepsie's ill-gotten gains on top.
MOOOON: GAH. Fine. Whatever. I'm in, but if things go south I'm blaming you.
Pepsie grinned, shaking Moooon's hand eagerly.
PEPSIE: Then we're in business!!
Docter seemed to know that his two best friends were excited, but not quite why. Nonetheless, he joined the three-way handshake, laughing good-naturedly.
DOCTER: Hahaha! Yeah! What are we doing, again?
Pepsie relinquished her grip on the compadres.
PEPSIE: Don't you see, Doc?
Pepsie swung her hand out dramatically, drawing the brim of her hat over her eyes, leaving only a foreboding grin.
PEPSIE: We're going to make Tab...
She paused. Tab- The empress's favorite drink and the second-most popular beverage on Carbonata as well as back home on Alternia.
PEPSIE: Tab.... TWO!
===
Pepsie Kowlah adjusted her top hat, straightening her bright blue jacket. Truth be told, she'd been planning this day for some time, having already requisitioned 100 cases of Tab 2 from her dealer. They all sat in a storage garage where the trio now stood.
PEPSIE: Well? Whaddya think?
She opened the garage door, flamboyantly gesturing at the stacks upon stacks of Tab 2. Docter meandered into the garage, cracking a box open. Within were cans of the pink drink, with the familiar "Tab" label with a "2" next to it that it looked like Pepsie might have drawn on herself. Moooon was unimpressed.
MOOOON: How do you get that tiny little tophat to stay on your head?
Pepsie rolled her eyes.
PEPSIE: I use clips.
PEPSIE: But that's not important right now!
Docter cracked open a can, sipping the substance within. He nodded.
DOCTER: It's... Sharp. With a sort of...
Docter squinted, nodding sagely to himself, as though he was a sommilier of soda.
DOCTER: ...Tab-like aftertaste. And beforetaste.
PEPSIE: That's because it IS tab, dipshit.
Pepsie snatched the can from he unsuspecting fellow, downing the rest of it with a sound of satisfaction.
PEPSIE: It's just Tab that I added sugar to and re-packaged.
DOCTER: Oh, wow. But isn't there a sugar shortage right now?
Pepsie grinned.
PEPSIE: I have my dealer.
MOOOON: For the love of-
MOOOON: Did you really get your sugar from HER?
Pepsie swiveled, putting a hand to her chest as though she were DEEPLY offended by Moooon's accusation.
PEPSIE: Cherie is a reputable vendor, thank you very much! Her sugar might not be...
PEPSIE: Conventional?
PEPSIE: But it's delicious and most importantly, non toxic. (Asterisk.)
Moooon squinted.
MOOOON: What do you mean, "asterisk."
PEPSIE: You know. An asterisk. Like a footnote.
MOOOON: So it's "non toxic, asterisk?"
PEPSIE: Right.
MOOOON: So what's the footnote?
PEPSIE: What?
MOOOON: The footnote. What's the qualifier?
PEPSIE: Moooon! Sweet Miss Misste. Don't you worry about the details! Let me sweat the small stuff! I didn't ask myself, because I, unlike SOME people, trust my friends! And Cherie is as good as they come.
Docter, who had just cracked open another can, nodded.
DOCTER: Yeah, Moooon! Lighten up! Take a sip. Seriously!
Moooon snatched the can from Docter, who flinched. Moooon wasn't normally a cautious one, but she was significantly more shrewd than stooges two and three were.
MOOOON: Relax. It's not like we need to disclose the ingredients on the label. As long as it tastes good and won't kill us, it's fine. Just don't drink too much.
Docter was glad the cans were pull-tab. He had trouble with normal bottle caps. Moooon gave him the can back and sighed.
MOOOON: Sorry, Pep. It's true you DID get all this together quick. So what's the plan for moving these bad boys?
Pepsie paused.
PEPSIE: Sorry? Plan? I figured we'd just... Sell it. Maybe in a stall?
MOOOON: Uh. A stall?
MOOOON: No, this isn't just one of your run-of-the-mill travelling scams, Pep, this is an honest-to-god supply chain. We need a storefront, advertising, price points-
Pepsie began to sweat. Truth be told, she had just envisioned using her stand-by travelling cart to sell all of this stuff.
PEPSIE: C'mon, we don't need all that, do we? What's the big deal?
MOOOON: The big deal is that if we don't advertize, we won't be able to sell the product fast enough. There's a hundred cases here, what are we going to do? Sell them one by one?
PEPSIE: Um-
MOOOON: We need some brick-and-mortar service, here.
Pepsie tugged at her tie, flustered. Moooon was surprisingly knowledgeable about this. To both women's surprise, Docter spoke up.
DOCTER: We could use my shop.
Pepsie and Moooon blinked in unison.
PEPSIE: Your... Shop?
Docter took a long sip from the Tab, savoring the sweet drink.
DOCTER: Yeah. My shop. I haven't used it 'till now, but I have a storefront in the business district in the city.
PEPSIE: Docter. Why do you have a storefront?
Docter paused, looking at the ground for a moment before shrugging.
DOCTER: Impulse buy?
Pepsie and Moooon exchanged a look, shrugging as well. Docter WAS a blueblood. They generally had moolah to blow on such things.
PEPSIE: Forgive my skepticism, Doc, but I'm going to need some proof. Knowing you, we might be waltzing into a shop you just happened to squat in once.
In another absurd moment, Docter reached into his pocket, withdrawing his wallet. Loose FLARP reference sheets, broken glass, and a yo yo fell out, along with small coins and some lint. He didn't bother picking any of it up. From his wallet, he produced a tiny scrap of paper which he unfolded into a deed of sale, entitling him to a property with an address in the city. Upon reading the deed, Moooon and Pepsie, while confused, seemed satisfied.
MOOOON: Alright, well. Let's check it out.
===
The property wasn't great. It was a small, cramped space, a storefront with a single lounge area with counters along the back wall leading into the back room. Maybe 500 square feet in all. From the machinery in the back room, the place used to be a bakery. Dust caked the walls and surfaces and Pepsie looked doubtful.
PEPSIE: This is... Kind of grimy.
By contrast, Moooon looked pleased as punch.
MOOOON: This is perfect! Look at it. With a little paint, some dusting, this place'll be great! Just a little elbow grease.
That's what Pepsie was afraid of. Effort.
DOCTER: Thanks! I bought it myself.
Docter grinned proudly, hands behind his back. Moooon rubbed her hands together. Moooon had never been afraid of a little work and Docter looked eager just to be part of something. Pepsie bit her lip.
PEPSIE: I don't know, guys. I mean. Docter, it's nice, but wouldn't you rather use my traveling cart? I'm sure we could sell fast if we-
Docter cut her off, dragging something out from the back room.
DOCTER: Look! A real cash register!
He plopped it down on the front counter with a bang, he and Moooon excitedly surrounding it. Pepsie crossed her arms.
PEPSIE: Guys, come on. This place is dusty and gross.
MOOOON: It won't be after we fix the place up. C'mon, Pep, afraid of some hard work?
Pepsie blushed brightly, stamping her foot petulantly.
PEPSIE: No!! It's MY Tab 2, so we use MY cart!
Moooon and Docter paused, both staring at Pepsie. This only made Pepsie blush all the harder, her ears heating up.
PEPSIE: I mean it! My cart is JUST as good as any crummy storefront!
MOOOON: How are you going to match the speed of in-house storage, then? Are you just going to go all the way back to your little storage locker to get more if your cart runs out?
PEPSIE: I don't know, I'll... I'll just get a little wagon!
MOOOON: And if people steal from the wagon? In a storefront, we'd be able to store stuff in the back safely.
PEPSIE: I'll... Hire guards!
MOOOON: Okay, your plan sucks.
PEPSIE: It's not! It's EFFECTIVE and PRAGMATIC!
MOOOON: More like Fartmatic. Where's the flair? With a storefront we could paint it however we want.
PEPSIE: The flair is up your ass!
Pepsie and Moooon were now forehead-to-forehead, fists clenched. Despite being about half the mass of the big lug, Pepsie knew Moooon wouldn't ACTUALLY hurt her. Docter, cool as could be, stepped between them.
DOCTER: Ladies. Ladies!
DOCTER: We've forgotten about the most beautiful tradition of decision-making in our wonderful culture.
DOCTER: Democracy!
MOOOON: You mean put it to a vote?
DOCTER: Oh. Is THAT what democracy is?? I was going to say fight for it.
DOCTER: But voting seems better. Less collateral.
PEPSIE: Ugh. No, because you two idiots will out-vote me. Why don't we make it simple? A game of Sickle, Trident, Hammer.
Moooon nodded, putting her fist in her palm.
MOOOON: Alright. On three.
DOCTER: Wait. Do you mean on "three" or right after "three?"
MOOOON: I mean on "three."
PEPSIE: Like one-two-three-go?
MOOOON: No! I mean one-two-THREE.
DOCTER: So on the last beat?
MOOOON: Right!
PEPSIE: Okay, wait- So which one is the "last" beat??
MOOOON: The LAST beat is "three."
DOCTER: Okay, so it'll be "one two," then shoot?
MOOOON: Yes.
PEPSIE: Wait, on TWO?
MOOOON: No, on THREE.
PEPSIE: Like this?
Pepsie closed her fist.
PEPSIE: One-two-THREE!
Pepsie threw the sign for "sickle," her forefinger bent like a hook. Moooon threw out the sign for hammer, her closed fist.
PEPSIE: Hey!! I wasn't ready!
MOOOON: Ha-ha! I won.
PEPSIE: That was a test run!!
Pepsie punched Moooon on the arm, forgetting what they'd been arguing about in the first place. Docter laughed at them as Moooon put Pepsie into a headlock, to which Pepsie flailed wildly like a cat in a sack.
Outside the storefront, the trolls nearby would hear the merriment going on within, without the slightest idea what lay in store for the now-benign shop, nor the three trolls within...