This is so dumb, but it was fun to write.

It's my first time writing for Jack and Nurm. Let's see how this goes.

A line of stupid collectible stuffed animals hits the stores, and practically everyone in Beacontown wants them. Including Nurm, much to the chagrin of Jack, who must brave the hectic stores to acquire one for his buddy...pray for him.

Inspired by the Cabbage Patch Kids riots of the 1980s. Hoo boy.

One month after "Small and In Charge"

Let's just get something established here. Jack hated fads. With a passion. He couldn't understand the appeal of pet rocks when he was a kid, so he definitely couldn't appreciate the fascination with fidget spinners when he was a grumpy middle-aged man. He thought that chasing after something that would be arbitrarily deemed "no longer hot" next year was, to put it in succinct language, dumb. Plain dumb, he called it, and a waste of treasure. The value of a gold scarab armlet from the deserts of Shamesh-Shamgar was timeless. Jack knew that because he had one, and the asking price only went up with the years. But the value of a rock in a box or a spinning trinket? Pfft. That'd be lucky to last eighteen months.

So you can understand his scorn when he walked past a shop window one day and caught sight of Beacontown's latest fad. He wasn't looking at it in particular; he'd just glanced idly at it while walking down the sidewalk, but what he saw made him backtrack and get a second look. With mild disgust, he beheld the sight within: a few cutesy stuffed animals with a sign sitting in front of them. The little group around the sign consisted of an ocelot, a pig, an unusually adorable creeper, and a pony. Jack thought they were diabetes incarnate, and braved a look at the sign to try understanding what the dealio was.

"There's more where these came from!" the sign declared. "Squishies - coming soon to stores all over Beacontown! Get 'em while they last."

Jack sputtered, then cracked up. His hearty laugh rolled down the sidewalk and made a few ladies sigh over how rugged he was. He stuck his hands in his pockets and marveled at the stupidity of fads. Silly little stuffed animals. Sure, they might catch on with kids, but what adult would be caught dead with a Squishy?

"Ha! Those will never catch on," Jack said, shaking his head and smiling.

Words of fate.


Nurm had hay fever something fierce, so it was up to Jack to do the dusting in the emporium. Not that he minded. Jack hummed old sea shanties to himself and reminisced about his adventures while making the treasures presentable. A few dust bunnies never bothered him.

For the past week, those dumb Squishies were gaining popularity in Beacontown. Even adults were finding them cute, charming, and possibly collectible. Jack scoffed at the collectors looking to bag a few stuffed animals, knowing that the silly fad would never equal the value of good old-fashioned treasure. That's what he thought, anyway.

"Classical armor is fascinating," Jack said, polishing a suit of medieval armor. "Look at the rosemaling details on these spaulders! I tell you, Nurmie, they just don't make this stuff like they used to."

"Uh-huh," Nurm grunted, kinda sorta not paying attention at all. Instead, the villager was doing what he did best: staring at a map. Well, Jack thought it was yet another map, but it was actually a big sheet of blank parchment. He scribbled on it with his charcoal pencils, drawing something.

Jack shrugged and went back to polishing the armor. "It sort of hurt to part with that diamond I hewed from Spider Peak Mountain, but getting this bad boy was definitely worth it. I got the better deal out of that trade."

"Neh," Nurm replied.

"It's all in the negotiating. I had to make the other guy think I wasn't really interested. Otherwise, he would have jacked up the price."

He paused. Nurm snickered.

"Ahem. Pun not intended. What are you doing? Are you drawing another map?"

Nurm pointed at a drawing of a calendar with a date circled on it. Jack glanced at it.

"I thought you liked maps, not calendars. I don't like calendars. I can't find one that isn't about either puppies or ocean pictures. I hate seascapes."

Nurm frowned and pointed at the circled date.

"Yeah. The ninth. What about it?"

Nurm pointed at the month on the calendar and grunted angrily. Jack finally put two and two together.

"Oh! That reminds me! Your birthday is coming up."

Nurm glared.

"I did not forget. I never forget your birthday. I just, um, had allocated that memory to a different part of my brain. Whatever terminology you want to use, I did not forget."

Nurm sputtered something short and harsh.

"Now don't you use that kind of language with me. It was an innocent misunderstanding. What do you want for your birthday? Mapmaking tools? Parchment scrolls?"

Nurm smiled and produced a ripped-out page of a catalog from his robe pocket. Jack looked confused, but took it anyway. His expression went crestfallen when he saw the circled object on the catalog page.

"No. Please, no, Nurmie. You know I hate those things."

Nurm stared at him with big, pleading eyes.

"Not a Squishy! Anything but those stupid stuffed animals! Don't tell me you've fallen for a fad." Jack's expression was best described as a look of betrayal. "Don't do this to me, Nurm. Please. I'll get you the best set of paints and ink I can find. Or...or a new hat. Or a road trip to Purgan-Gah. Anything but a Squishy!"

Nurm wouldn't budge. He pointed at the exact Squishy he wanted - a bunny called Rascal the Rabbit - and said "I want a Squishy," in Villagerese.

"No!" Jack howled. "Not a Squishy! I can't do it. It's a fad, and you know I hate fads!"

Nurm put on the most pitiful expression he could muster. Jack tried to look away, but Nurm was just too cute. Losing his last shred of resolve, Jack gave in.

"All right! Okay! Fine! I'll get you your stupid Squishy. I just hope I don't get killed trying to grab one at the shops. They're getting more possessive over them. I heard a fight broke out in lower Beacontown over Squishes just two days ago."

"Which is why you have to get one before they run out," Nurm responded in Villagerese. Jack scowled.

"I'm not getting out of this, am I?"


No, he was not getting out of this. A day later, Jack approached the storefront where he first saw the Squishies, re-evaluating his life decisions. The store hadn't opened yet, and a herd of patrons were lying in wait to pounce on the Squishies. Jack thought this was plain ridiculous. Christmas was two months ago. Who bothers to do toy shopping in the dead of February?

The shoppers were not only rabidly eager, but they were also hostile to each other. They gave each other dirty looks and whispered "grr" for intimidation. They reminded Jack of the creepers he observed in the eastern forests - how one would try to psych the other out before getting into a scrap over territory or a mate. In fact, he could hardly tell the difference.

"Hey, buddy," a guy walking past on the sidewalk said to Jack. "You planning on getting a Squishy?"

"Unfortunately," Jack replied.

"Heh. I'm sorry. I'll pray for you."

"This crowd is like a pack of creepers," Jack told him. "Except one is a roving pack of dangerous animals about to fight over something stupid, and the other...is a group of creepers."

"Ha! That's a funny way of putting it. I'm gonna have to write that one down." The guy walked away, leaving Jack to face his trial by fire alone. He stood in the midst of a sea of middle-aged moms and brutal-looking grandmas. He could practically smell the hostile estrogen radiating from them. This was gonna be bad.

Then, there was some movement at the doors. Jack perked up. The shop owner, armed in riot gear for some reason, changed the shop sign from "closed" to "open."

And Jack heard and saw no more.

The women, like some kind of magnificent and awful torrent, flooded into the store to pounce on the awaiting Squishies. They screamed and sounded out battle cries more terrifying than any warrior Jack had ever heard.

"Now I remember why I never got married," Jack said to himself as he tried not to get trampled by gym shoes and high heels. The things he did for his friends!

Gasping and choking, he fought to escape the tide and get to safer ground. He felt bad about elbowing the old ladies out of the way at first, but then he saw a grandma fly-tackle a soccer mom to the floor for a Cheesy the Cow toy, and his empathy fizzled away after that. After all, he had to survive, too.

Now there was the challenge of actually acquiring the bunny Squishy. Jack was momentarily disoriented by the bright, colorful atmosphere of the shop. It was like getting dropped into enemy territory. He flopped on the floor and army-crawled to safety behind a table of cheese cutting boards. There, he caught his breath and scoped out the scene.

A swatch of no-man's land lay between him and the display of Squishies, which was currently under attack by the customers. Boxes and wrappings were flying everywhere, screams made it impossible for Jack to hear himself think, and the people were getting into legit fights over the stuffed animals. Jack had never seen such ferocity before. He'd watched deathmatches between dishonored patriarchs in Niat-nuom before, and those were tickle fights compared to the battle for the Squishies.

"Do it for Nurm," he told himself, cautiously inching forward. Suddenly, an old lady in high heels ran over him while chasing another old lady. Jack wheezed from the pain of getting six-inch heels dug into his back and staggered to his feet.

A pig Squishy went flying by his head suddenly, and he knew he had to dodge away really fast. A woman dove after it, grabbing it right out of the air. Ninja Lady pulled into an action-hero somersault while holding the pig Squishy close to protect it, kicking another woman in the stomach as she tried to steal it away. Jack gaped.

"Hi-ya! Not on my watch, sister!" the woman with the pig declared, before throwing some gold nuggets at a clerk and running away from the store.

Jack shared a indignant look with the clerk.

"Yeah, I don't know what the deal is, either," she said. "Can I help you with anything, sir?"

"Duh...uh…" Jack stammered.

"Sir?"

"I need a...Squishy."

"For who? Mom, wife, kiddo?"

"For my friend. He wants the bunny." Jack felt so stupid saying it, but maybe the clerk could help him?

The clerk took one look at the mayhem and shook her head. "Dude, the only help I can give you is prayer and positive thought. There's a reason the manager dressed in riot gear this morning…"

"Oh, great."

"Yeah, sorry about that. You're sort of on your own. On the bright side, you look tough enough to take them."

"Fine." Jack steeled himself, then ran into the fray.

Again, it was total pellmell at the Squishies display. At this point, Jack was willing to grab any of the stuffed animals flying around in the war zone, even if they weren't the bunny that Nurm wanted. Just so that he could escape this crazy house and get back home without being empty-handed. Even if it wasn't a bunny, it was still sickeningly cute and soft, right? Nurm wouldn't mind, right?

A nearby woman suddenly got into a scrap with a guy over a Lucky the Wolf Squishy, and Jack had to back away for his own safety. When he did that, he collided with another shopper. He turned around to face his attacker, but stopped short when he recognized the blonde hair and leather jacket.

"Lukas?"

"Jack?"

Jack was dumbfounded. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that. What are you doing in a stuffed animal emporium?"

"Feeling like I'm part of the Purgan-Gah Volunteer Army again, that's what. Except this is twice as harrowing as my time with the troops. You're too pacifistic to be in this place, Lukas. Why are you here?"

"I'm...um...trying to survive!" Lukas exclaimed, dodging as a brazen mom tried to grab the stuffed ocelot out of his arms.

Jack glared. "Not you, too. You had better be buying that Squishy for Zeke."

"Uh...kinda…" Lukas said sheepishly. "It's just that I saw Speckles the Ocelot and...I couldn't refuse! He was too cute! And I've nearly been killed by psycho grandmas in the process, so I need to reap a reward for my efforts. See you later!"

Lukas ran out of the shop, escaping with life, limb, and Speckles the Ocelot. Jack was somewhat envious. He tried in vain to grab random Squishies in order to at least have something to show for his struggle, but they kept getting swept up by the other shoppers. Jack was about to pass out from the stress.

Just then, a beacon of hope!

Laying on a pedestal of mercy, bathed in a beam of heavenly light, sat none other than a pristine Rascal the Rabbit Squishy! Exactly how Nurm wanted it! He went for his opportunity.

"Hallelujah!" Jack pounced at the bunny. He captured the soft, strawberry-scented toy in his muscular arms. Laughing with joy at finally getting his hands on Nurm's birthday present, he hugged the rabbit and even deposited a light kiss on its nose. He looked like a total idiot, but he was so relieved at this point that he didn't care. Now he just needed to get out of here alive.

He really shouldn't have made such a big show out of getting his prize. It attracted the attention of the other shoppers. When the realized that Jack had a Squishy and they didn't, his life was once more in danger.

The concerned clerk saw the impending danger and tried to warn Jack. But it was a lost cause. Jack was so absorbed in basking in the glory of his accomplishment that he didn't notice a troop of jealous shoppers sneaking up on him.

"Hey, you!"

"Sir, look out!"

Jack saw the brawny woman jumping at him when it was precisely too late.

BOOM!

"Oh no! Man down! I repeat, man down!"


At the Beacontown Hospital

Nurm stood at the foot of the bed, looking a bit ashamed of himself. He took off his hat and held it, face downcast.

"Don't take your hat off," Jack complained from the hospital bed. "What are you doing, paying respects for the dead? I'm not dead!"

"Hrmhm," Nurm mumbled, which was something along the lines of "I'm sorry," in Villagerese.

"Look, I know you wanted the bunny Squishy, but it was just too hard for me. It was a war zone there. You should have seen the woman who tackled me in the store. She was like...she was like Brunhilda or something. Look what she did to my leg!"

Jack's leg was wrapped in a cast, properly elevated. Nurm gingerly signed his autograph on it with a piece of charcoal. Jack just sighed.

"Next year, I'm going to get you a new hat for your birthday. A nice new hat. Nobody dies or gets their leg broken by Brunhilda trying to get their friend a hat for their birthday."

"What if that becomes the new fad?" Nurm inquired in Villagerese.

The horrible realization swept over Jack. Anything could become an annoying fad in Beacontown.

"Noooooooo!"