Chapter Text
The sun shone down, parching already cracked and bone-dry expanse of dirt that surrounded the humble Bagge farm. The simple two-story stood starkly against the sea of nothing, the only focal point in the middle of the nowhere that was both the landscape and the town's self-depreciating name.
Partly bleached and peeling boards creaked and groaned with every little breeze that wafted across the property. The windmill chugged along, wheezily continuing its extremely specific purpose (thanks to the ancient pagan magic etched into it) that kept it from being purely decorative. The only sign of life around was a handful of birds lazily circling overhead, their warbling caws peppering the otherwise howling quiet of the early afternoon doldrums.
Were it not for the birds, the stillness of the scene would threaten to make it appear frozen in time; a snapshot of the textbook example of American Gothic, only for a sudden plume of dust to appear on the horizon.
Soon enough, the town's lone mail truck made its way to the Bagge's crooked mailbox, shoved a handful of letters into the open mouth, and carted off to its next destination, continuing its harrowing day of delivering mail in a town of less than five hundred people.
(A position that is no-less revered despite its seemingly simple work day, if mostly due to the reputation of high mortality rate for those working in Nowhere's Postal Service. The deceptively small population acting somewhat as a lure for those unaware of the true obstacles of the job, such as rogue sand whales, wandering gods, walking towers, giant starfish, and whatever else may enter the town's borders with little care for its inhabitants. And yet the mail must be delivered.
Through rain or sleet or snow or come hell or high water)
As the driver of the mail truck drove onward, no doubt white-knuckling it through yet another day's work, the screen door at the front of the weathered Bagge home finally opened, revealing our central figure of the story.
Blinking out into the bright afternoon stood the pink figure of one Courage; the unknowing glue who was often responsible for holding the town together, or at the least, the farm.
Today though, it was peaceful. No angry eggplants or exploding government created carrots to worry about occupying the dirt, nor angry mummies cursing the land, or kingly frogs with an ego to match their size; just the usual back and forth between him and the inhabitants of the house. The day being as placid as it’s been so far, Courage found himself lacking his usually panicky way of approaching the world and instead was simply happy to feel the sun shining on his faded pink coat. He trotted along merrily, eager to take in an afternoon of doing basic dog chores instead of contending with the latest horror from beyond the grave.
With a quick swipe of the contents of the mailbox (the arrival of which always serves as a reminder that their current deliverer had yet to fall prey to what lurks around the town...yet) the little dog made his way back indoors. Inside the home was bright and airy; Summer was on its way and the windows were thrown open to appreciate the warm breeze after a long season of Winter stuffiness. The homey touch was solidified with the sound of humming and the scents of cooking coming from the kitchen.
Muriel was at it again.
Contents of the mail in his mouth, Courage trotted over to his owner, smiling behind the small tack of letters. Muriel, ever in a chipper mood and perpetually experimenting in the kitchen, was once again pouring over her cookbooks in an attempt to work her culinary alchemy, in which all attempts somehow involve vinegar.
(Which was possibly the true magic at play; that she was able to take such a volatile ingredient and use it with such versatility. The day the Happy Plumbs saved Dr. Zhalost from his misery had yet to be forgotten.)
"Oh, Courage!" She perked up, looking down as the little dog wagged his tail. "Ye got the mail. Ah, what a good dog ye are. As soon as I'm done with my new borscht recipe, you'll be the first t'taste it."
"Nnneeeh, he can have all of it." Grumbled out a voice from behind a newspaper, only for the thin head of Eustage Bagge to poke around the periodicals a second later. "Dem beats have been stinkin' up the place all dang morning! Let the dog eat that stuff! I'm goin' out for dinner."
More garbled mumblings continued as he retreated back behind the news, unaware of the unamused glare his wife was aiming his way, all while a spoon sat poised in one hand like a knife awaiting to be removed from its sheathe. With a sigh and a shake of her head, she smiled back down at Courage. "More for us then, right Courage?"
Not one to turn down his owner's cooking, Courage smiled and nodded as he stood on his hind legs to get a better whiff of the food simmering in the large pot. Muriel meanwhile sifted through the mail, resuming her humming.
"Dear - dear, bill, another bill, oh- Eustace, we have a reminder of your doctor's appointment for next Friday!" She waved the reminder postcard her husband's way. "Don't forget or else you'll never figure out what that lump is."
"Ah'm old, woman!" Eustace fired back. "I got lumps! I'm not runnin' to no doctor for every little problem - I'm not made of money!"
But Courage noticed that Muriel wasn't paying attention to her husband's latest assurance that his health was fine despite his body being held together mostly by spite at this point. Instead she was zeroed in on the last letter in the stack; a simple white number with golden embellishment in the corners. Whatever was on it though, certainly was making an impression.
A smile as warm as the noonday sun outside sat on her face while her other hand rested on her cheek.
"Oh Courage, my dear -" she sighed. "Look at this, it's from Kitty and Bunny!"
For a moment, Courage was no longer in his familiar kitchen, instead tossed bodily into a memory of a deeply fraught series of days in which the Bagges hosted the mysterious stranger known as "Kitty." Like with any dangerous encounter Courage has endured in Nowhere, the little dog would rather have torn his skin off than deal with it, but unwilling as he was to leave Muriel to the potential threat the then masked stranger posed, he endured every sudden beating he was dealt. The rest of the memory rushed by, threatening to make his heart crack a rib in how hard it beat; the discovery of Kitty's loss of Bunny to the deranged Mad Dog and how it caused Kitty's on-sight hatred of all dogs, racing to find Bunny but finding how her situation was far more dire than Courage believed, and finally evading Mad Dog and his cronies so Kitty and Bunny were finally able to run away together.
Courage was happy to see them finally together, but as much as he tried not to have a resentful bone in his body, he found he wasn't exactly thrilled to hear from the cat that pummeled him for existing.
He already got enough of that from another cat.
But the happy squeal that escaped Muriel told him that whatever the contents of the letter held, it was no ill-will aimed at him.
"Oh and they're getting married!" She flipped the letter towards him, a smile growing on her face. "Look Courage, we're all invited!"
Curiosity taking over, Courage took the letter and gave it a once-over; it was indeed a wedding invite. Kitty and Bunny were tying the knot and wanted the Bagge family to come, with special mention that Courage attended.
"We wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, dog." Ornate letters pointed out under the invite, swooping with such pointed purpose that Courage couldn't help but imagine those words read out in Kitty's husky voice. "Really Bunny insisted and I couldn't say no."
"Don't let her fool you, Courage -" another message appeared under the first one, written out in cute rounded lettering that filled the little dog's head with Bunny's bubblegum chirp. "She wants you here just as much as I do! Please come. We owe this all to you!"
Courage could maybe count on one paw the number of times his frantic attempts at do-goodery were rewarded with something other than remaining alive. So often were his adrenaline-fueled freakouts just his body's usual defense against the nightmare's Nowhere provided, his mind and body working in tandem under one iron-strong order: Keep Muriel Alive.
Rescuing Bunny wasn't so much a deviation as it was a branch off from his normal efforts.
Someone was in trouble and needed help, and he seemed to be the only one to do it. It's just that 99% of the time that Someone tends to be his kindly Scottish owner.
Of course in the past there had been other, less threatening, situations that ended peacefully; the space squid looking to ensure the safety of her babies, the storm goddess looking for her dog, learning that the hungry dragon had a diet of fish rather than human, but even then the happy ending was that he and the farm were left alone, no longer subjected to whatever insanity their presence brought.
His friend the hunchback was maybe the only other example, but his presence mostly caused the ire of Eustace. Courage still got a letter from him from time to time.
So the little dog couldn't make sense of the feeling he found himself wrestling with as he read the genuine invite for his presence specifically.
Were he more cynical, more a dog who gave into the resentment of tangling with crisis after crisis in his life, he'd almost be certain this was a trap; like the time he and the Bagges stumbled onto Katz's bogus island resort, only to find themselves converted into machinery and made to fight in his knockoff Thunderdome.
But if that was Courage, then he wouldn't be the dog who ran towards the slums to save Bunny in the first place.
Muriel was ignorant of the emotions rolling in her pet's mind and belly, practically fluttering in excitement.
" - and we're going t'have to find you something smart to wear, Courage, especially if they want you to be there. This is perfect since it's been ages since I've had a reason to find a new outfit, and Eustace -"
"Ah'm not goin'"
"But Eustace," Muriel protested, somehow eternally appealing to her husband's better nature, despite it existing somewhere so deep in his body it was neighbors with bedrock. "We haven't had a reason t’go out together for so long, and it's such a happy occasion."
"Happy? Fer that cat who gave me grief while staying in my home? Whaddo I care she's gettin’ hitched?" He angrily thumbed through his paper. "Besides, didn't she lock you in the bedroom? I had to spend half the night getting that dang door open."
Guilt briefly flared up in Courage at the reminder that he had locked the two in their room to avoid any potential danger while leaving for the city, only to be treated to a front-row view of Muriel squaring up.
Hands planted firmly on her hips while one borscht-covered spoon was still held firmly in her grasp, Muriel didn't do much to change her posture, and yet the air around her shifted. It was moments like these that had Courage understand just why those Valkyries mistook her for their lost sister.
"Eustace" Muriel enunciated with such finality that Courage could practically hear the underline in the farmer's name. "It has been far too long since we've had a proper time out together without getting caught up in some unholy mess o’monsters, or magic, or wild goats threatening to knock us off a mountain." She began stomping towards her husband, who Courage could see was beginning to tremble behind his flimsy shield of ink and paper. "We are all going to this wedding so we can wish the two of those lovely lasses the best, and you, Eustace Bagge, are going to be wearing your Sunday Best, got it?"
Briefly there was some attempt at retaliatory gurgling from the farmer, some simmering resentment bubbling up over the thought of being removed from his creature comforts, only for that to be snuffed out as soon as he looked up. Courage couldn't make out just what Muriel's expression was as she was busy staring down her husband, but judging by Eustace's frozen look as he stared back up at her, the dog figured the point was made.
Everyone's going to this wedding.
Already Courage was wondering if maybe the computer can give him any tips on dressing for the occasion.