F is for "Flippee"

Rated K

There were only a few things one could do when their hometown was subjected to a harsh, smoldering heat wave—constantly complain about the weather in a vain attempt to ward off the seemingly undying warmth, grin and bear until the worst was finally over, or find some way to cool off. Seeing as how Clyde McBride was smart enough to know that the former wouldn't work and that he wasn't the best at adjusting to horrible conditions (he nearly threw a fit when his school swapped out chocolate milk for strawberry), he had no choice but to wing it with the third option.

Presently, he was trudging through the streets of Royal Woods, the Sun nearly baking him to a crisp. He had been walking for nearly ten minutes and by now, he was the embodiment of pure exhaustion—rivulets of sweat coated his skin, his tongue flopped out of his panting mouth, his face was splotched with a fiery shade of crimson, and his shaky movements pantomimed a person with legs full of jello.

He wouldn't be anywhere but home if the air conditioning wasn't broken, and a plastic, electronic fan could only do so much. Thus, he made it his mission to embrace the elements in the pursuit of the one thing he could think of that could both keep him cool and tantalize his taste buds with bursts of ice-cold, fruity flavor—a Flippee from Flip's Food & Fuel.

Of course, he was aware that a Flippee could only keep the heat at bay for so long, which was why he was going to buy the largest size available. Plus, if he only drank it every so often, he was sure he could make it last for at least two days as long as he kept it cold in his freezer.

'If I don't melt into a puddle before I get to Flip's, that is,' Clyde thought as he staggered drunkenly along the last crosswalk before his destination.

The first thing that Clyde had to regard, besides the refreshing flow of refrigerated air that soothed his flesh as soon as he stepped inside Flip's, was the irony within his surroundings. Part of the reason why this trip was necessary wasn't just because his AC was busted, but because his dads, some of the most caring and charitable people he knew, didn't want to splurge the money necessary to have it fixed (at least, not this soon). Meanwhile, Flip was one of the most negligent, close-fisted people to walk the Earth yet it seemed like even he wasn't miserly enough to keep his pennies pinched when it came to keeping his mini-market ventilated.

Clyde walked past the store owner himself, who was manning the cash register while he leaned against the counter. He couldn't help but sneer when, much like his reception for the past few months, he wasn't greeted with a snide remark or sarcastic barb, like most of his customers usually got—it took him about a few weeks after the sudden attitude adjustment to understand that he and Lincoln threatening him with blackmail must've coaxed him to mind his tongue around them.

'Heh. Serves him right.'

He weaved past idle customers (nearly slipping on an unmarked puddle in the candy aisle) for a few seconds until, at long last, he made it to the Flippee machine. But instead of hastily filling up an extra large cup with as much slushy fruitiness as he could with just one flavor (the thought that dominated his mind while he was panting and sweating out in the unforgiving humidity), he gazed at the various flavor nozzles as if he was a meticulous jeweler mindfully looking over his craftsmanship. Now that he was somewhat relieved (with only the icky cold sensation of his sweat-dampened clothes against his skin making him squirm a bit), there was no longer an urge to hurry up in order to ward off the effects of the heat as fast as he could.

"Now, let's see here..." Clyde mumbled as he tapped his chin with his pointer finger and pursed his lips. "I could make half my Flippee full of Lightning Lemonade, buuuuuuut that would overpower the tangy flavor of Crushing Cherry. Then again, Crushing Cherry could be a decent base, but everyone knows that it doesn't mix very well with Mango Tango, and that flavor doesn't come anywhere close to being good without a heavy dose of Lightning Lemonade. Hmmmm-oof!"

His pondering was interrupted from a sudden bump against his hip that made him stagger over, nearly tripping him up as effectively as an unattended candy aisle puddle. He turned to look at what caused it and quickly discovered that it was a "who". There, smirking with her hip jutted towards him, was none other than Lynn. From that alone, he could put two and two together—it seemed like Polly Pain wasn't the only one who liked to "booty block" unsuspecting victims.

"Uh, hey, Lynn," Clyde said, still a little perturbed from the ordeal.

Lynn's smirk unexpectedly drooped into a thin line. "Took you long enough to notice me. I've been trying to get your attention since you showed up."

Clyde's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Uh, yeah. I tried tapping you on the shoulder, but you just kept murmuring to yourself. If I wasn't used to Lucy doing it all the time, I'd have been super freaked out."

Huh. Now that Lynn mentioned it, Clyde supposed he did feel a slight touch against his shoulder. In his deep musing about Flippees, he must've disregarded it.

"So," Lynn began to ask with a smile " I see you're trying to beat the heat with a Flippee, huh?"

"Yep," Clyde said. "I take it that's why you're here, too?"

Lynn shook her head and jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, pointing to the hot bar. "Actually, I'm here for some chili dogs. I'm hanging out with Margo, and her parents decided to take us here so we could grab some. That's when I saw you come in and...well, you know the rest."

From there, Lynn turned to the Flippee machine and squinted at it pensively while she rubbed her chin with one hand.

"But now that you mention it, a Flippee does sound like a good idea." Just then, a radiant smile birthed on her face as she snapped her fingers. "In fact, it's such a good idea that I know exactly how you should go about making it."

Lynn's enthusiasm, along with the suggestion that she knew a thing or two about making good Flippees, piqued Clyde's interest. "Oh?"

"Yeah. See, you should mix Mango Tango with about a third of Lightning Lemonade. Then, to top it off, only add a teeny bit of Crushing Cherry and Bombin' Banana."

Clyde gasped and just about keeled over on the spot. Why, practically everything about her proposal completely went against all the recipe-making and hours of serious contemplation that he and Lincoln had accumulated over the years! For instance, what was she thinking with the idea of mixing four flavors at once?! Any Flippee enthusiast worth their weight in salt knew that the maximum of three flavors was the optimal number—no more, no less!

...

But then again, it wasn't like he had to buy something that he didn't like. All he had to do was sample a bit of the concoction and if he didn't like it, he could hand it off to Lynn while he made his own Flippee for himself.

And beyond that, there was something about her self-assured smile that told him that she wasn't gonna steer him wrong.

Clyde looked back at the Flippee machine, sighed, and reached for an extra large cup. 'Welp, might as well.'

Oh, Clyde "might as well", alright—if "might as well" was coupled with "thanking Lynn like he had never thanked any sentient being before"! What was once dubiousness quickly transformed into intoxicated delight as soon as the slushie slurped up his straw and tinged the tip of his tongue. The concoction, which Lynn dubbed "Berried Treasure", was nothing like he had ever tasted—the brash tropical taste was compounded perfectly by the zesty tang of Lightning Lemonade while the Bombin' Banana tempered the explosive fruity surge from being too overwhelming. Overall, it was flawless.

Finally, Clyde withdrew from his straw and looked at Lynn, an almost manic grin on his face. "This is...amazing!"

Lynn chuckled and nudge his shoulder with her fist. "Told ya. Believe me, Clyde, I know my Flippees."

Just as he was about to go for another slurp, another straw suddenly inserted through the cup lid's opening. Clyde, knowing full well what was about to come, was quick to object to having even a morsel of his Flippee taken from him and cried, "Hey!"

"What?" Lynn asked smugly. "You don't think I deserve a little for unlocking the secrets of the ultimate Flippee combination to you?"

Immediately, Clyde shrunk back in shame. There was no good excuse in the world for acting selfishly towards a friend who was only trying to help him out.

"Sorry," he said, his head hung. "You can have s-"

The sound of slurping forced him to stop and realize that Lynn had taken the liberty of having herself some of his Flippee, anyway. Still, he couldn't help but take it in stride with a smile. After all, treasure was meant to be shared among friends—even if it was berried.