Not Doing Business (A Mr. Chipper Story)

      The Blue Lutari patted the young child’s head. “You’re welcome. Careful as you go now, the ice ‘round here is slippy!” He liked polite and enthusiastic customers; the shared happiness did wonders to keep his calm.

      “Yes, sir!” the young pup replied, taking a few measured steps as he struggled to both walk carefully and eat his ice cream. He returned slowly to his mother, a Red Gelert bundled tightly in the coziest-looking coat Mr. Chipper had ever seen.

      “You’ve raised a very polite young man,” he told her with a smile.

      “Oh, thank you. He’s just so thoughtful naturally, I really can’t take the credit,” she replied, but he could see her pride in the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. She leaned down to tuck one of her child’s long ears back into his jacket’s hood, careful not to disturb the delicate process of consuming the ice cream. She watched with masked amusement as her child struggled to bite into the hard chocolate shell, clearly being careful to avoid getting too-sensitive fangs into the colder part of the ice cream. “I must ask,” she said, looking over his light chef jacket and bow tie. “Aren’t you cold?”

      Despite the gentleness of her question, the implied reproach ruffled his fur the wrong way. Annoyance rose like a wave of heat from a log tossed on a fire. “I’m used to the cold. My temper keeps me warm, most days.” His words came out harsher than he liked. She meant well, so to calm himself he turned his attention to the young Gelert’s enjoyment of his treat. He’d gotten through the wings and the cherry, and had begun chowing down on the vanilla ice cream within. The irritation cooled.

      She settled down on the bench that faced the frozen-over pond. In the distance, four children played a game of hockey. Their laughter drifted over the open air. In the wintertime in the mountains, sound had a way of travelling for miles. Out in the wilderness, Mr. Chipper supposed, it must be isolating, hearing the quiet settling in for miles around you. Here though, laughter, joy, and cheer carried from one edge of town clear to another. “You don’t seem the angry type,” she said.

      “I suppose I don’t,” he replied. “Most folks don’t have to worry about it. Just so long as they don’t cause me trouble.”

      “Well then we’ll be sure to stay on your good side,” she replied with an easy smile. “Even if we’re just visiting. I have a feeling we’ll be stopping by again tomorrow.”

      “You’re too kind, ma’am. I hope you enjoy your stay,” he said. “Happy Valley is a rare place.”

      “Mr. Chipper,” a deep voice came from behind him.

      He turned to find two figures standing behind him wearing deep blue jackets, both Chias wrapped in ridiculously large, navy-coloured coats and with fluffy caps adorned with a gold badge. He looked over them. Both had their arms loosely by their sides, their hands empty. No ice cream tickets were apparent.

      “No ice cream for adults unless you’ve got a ticket from Taelia,” he growled. “I can scarce make enough for the kids.”

      “Mr. Chipper, I’m Deputy Brad, and my colleague here is Deputy Angus. We’re here regarding your operating credentials,” he replied. “The registration your cart is licensed under is lapsed. We’ll need you to shut down immediately until such a time as you’ve successfully renewed.”

      Mr. Chipper looked between them. “Are you joking?” he asked angrily.

      “I’m afraid not. We’re going to need you to close up for the day and go in immediately if you’d like to renew. Competition for licenses is hard this year. I wouldn’t delay.” Deputy Brad said.

      “This must be a mistake. I renewed a month ago, at the start of the season,” he said. He could feel his small, round ears starting to burn with an angry blush. “They must have lost the papers.”

      “Maybe,” Deputy Brad replied. “Everyone makes mistakes.” He tried to sound neutral, but the implication in his voice struck a nerve with Mr. Chipper. “I’m sure the clerks will be quick to sort this all out with you. But you should go immediately; there’s at least ten vendors hungry to take your spot. And you can’t do business here without it any ways.”

      A catastrophe: half his inventory remained in the cart, and the post-school rush would start in half an hour. Closing shop before dinner? Unthinkable. He might as well go around telling children that the Advent Calendar was cancelled. And what to do with the rest of the inventory? He would never stoop to selling the stale ice cream tomorrow, tasting like a forgotten back corner of a garage freezer. He’d have to throw it out. He didn’t even care about the lost money. What he cared about was the thought of it never bringing joy to anyone. All that beautiful, delicious art, gone to waste.

      “You’re saying I can’t do business here?” he asked. His claws dug into his palms as he gripped the ice cream scoop tighter.

      “Yes. You cannot do business here.” The Chia held his head high, looking down at him.

      “Fine,” he growled. His blood boiled hot enough for his fur to steam lightly in the cold air. “I won’t do business then.” He was nearly too angry. They were coming between him and his pride and joy. They were threatening it.

      He ripped the sign from his cart, slamming it atop his freezer, covering the lids.

      He knew he couldn’t calm himself down if he left. He’d storm to City Hall, he’d shout, he’d ruin some poor clerk’s day. There would be tears. And that wasn’t who he wanted to be. He wanted to bring joy to people. He’d only ever found one way to soothe his anger, and they were taking that away.

      “We’re sorry to make you close up shop,” the second officer said, the one who’d been introduced as Deputy Angus. Perhaps he’d finally worked up the courage to speak. “My kiddo loves your treats. If you’re going straight to City Hall for the paperwork, I can watch this while you’re inside,” he offered.

      Mr. Chipper growled as defiance rose in him. Paperwork or no, they wouldn’t stop him from doing what he loved. They couldn’t stop him from doing what he loved. “No. I’m not closing up,” he said.

      And with the big red marker he used to set prices, he channeled his anger into furiously writing one big word on the sign, as bold and big as he could make it.

      FREE.

      He slammed the sign back onto the awning of his cart, but he hadn’t even finished placing it before one of the hockey players, a Quiggle, pointed at it and shouted. “Mr. Chipper’s ice cream is free!?” The look on her face, the pure amazement that only a child could feel, hit him like a wave.

      Immediately he felt his anger begin to subside… and then that one shout carried across the whole town.

      Happy Valley had never seen an avalanche of the like. Kids of all sorts threw open doors and came flooding out. Confused and alarmed parents chased after. Here a young Aisha dashed through the snow in pyjamas, chased by her father with a coat half-on. There a Lupe barely able to walk dodged between much larger folk as his mother pursued, slipping about on the ice.

      A crowd of children nearly the size of the skating pond formed around the cart, all of them shouting and clamouring their order.

      There was no point in treating it like a line. Frozen delights got tossed out left, right, and centre, all while the two Chia deputies shouted and tried to protest. “You’re not allowed to do business!” Deputy Brad yelled.

      “I’m not doing business,” he shouted back with delight.

      Confused by the loophole and forced to confront the overwhelming crowd of joyful children, Deputy Brad gave a bewildered look to his partner.

      Deputy Angus, who as a father was clearly more experienced with the chaos of the young, just gave him a shrug. “Public safety first, right?” he pointed out, and stepped in to begin doing his job. He began to organize them into lines to ensure that nobody was trampled.

      The statement seemed to sway Deputy Brad, and he began to help too.

      The duo fell into it quickly, and Mr. Chipper watched with satisfaction as the enthusiasm and excitement of the children began to infect them, the two Chias chuckling to themselves as they helped ensure that the over-excitable kids didn’t wander out of line, or tip the cart over on themselves trying to see the options left.

      Within minutes, the whole freezer lay empty. Every kid had received a treat, and was being slowly collected by confused parents. Mr. Chipper surveyed the aftermath. Children smiling, laughing, comparing and trading treats… it felt right. This was the Happy Valley he woke up every morning and pushed his cart through two feet of snow to serve. This was home.

     The End.