The Suckling

Turn Of The Screwball

The city of Splatsville was as hectic and animated as it ever was. It thrived with the melodiously dissonant song of life and it was only reaching its crescendo as high noon steadily approached. Once the lunch rush hits, daytime activity will have peaked and the city will be caught smack dab in the middle of a consumerist frenzy.

In between the rumbling hustle and bustle of the crowds going about their daily lives, the humble street vendors hawking their goods and wares to various passersby and the gaggle of turfers making a colorful mess of things in the background, two steely eyed Inklings stepped into the main square, their expression one of confident determination.

...Well, at least one of them was determined.

Quattro wandered across the square, sweaty and panting like a dogfish. He was dressed in a black designer t-shirt with bright green shorts and equally as green and black trimmed sneakers, a sleek pair of yellow ear loop headphones hung around his neck. Despite looking fresh as the dickens, he was feeling absolutely miserable.

Walking next to him was Tres who was curiously unbothered by the scorching temperatures. He was modestly clothed in a white oil stained tank top, worn olive drab cargo pants and dirt encrusted trainers. Slung over his back was his trusty canvas knapsack, with which Little Buddy had made himself comfortable in. No one would be blamed if they mistook him as a grease sea monkey out on break or a local hoodlum stalking his territory.

"Sheesh, how... How do you Splatlanders live like this?" Quattro panted, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. The Splatlandian heat felt unbearably oppressive today and the humidity was so bad he could feel every inch of fabric on his body stick to him like paper mache. "Ugh, we've barely been out here for an hour and already I'm sweating my own weight in water. It's like being stuck under a broiler."

"I told you not to wear black today, the forecast said it was gonna be in the high nineties for the rest of the week," replied Tres, who interestingly enough looked dry as a bone. "And I told you before, it's Splatlandian!" he grunted irritatedly. "Get it right."

"Waaah!" Little Buddy chirped, sounding equally as offended.

"Splatlandian, Splatlander, Splatpeople, whatever!" Quattro bemoaned, leaning up against a nearby wall as he began fanning himself with his free hand. "Let's just hurry up and contact the others, I'm frying over here."

"Man, you Inkos really can't handle the heat, can you?" Tres chuckled as he pulled out his phone. "Don't you guys have summer over in Inkopolis?"

"We have summer, not whatever this raging inferno is!" Quattro snapped. He gave Tres a quick once-over, looking positively baffled at his dry state. "How are you not sweating?!"

"I'unno," Tres shrugged. "Eh, I guess I'm just used to this kind of weather. When you've lived here as long as I have, the heat just doesn't bother you anymore. I spend days, sometimes even weeks scavenging out in the Splatlands with my junk hauler looking for good scrap to sell. I'd be a bad relic hunter if I couldn't stand a little hot weather."

Quattro simply gawked at him slack-jawed and dumbfounded. "...Kuki was right. You are built different." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, just-just get her on the horn, rookie."

"Give me a sec, gyuppie." Tres punched in some numbers on his sea cucumber phone. It rang for a brief moment before someone finally answered.

"This is Kuki. Good to finally hear you, Tres," Kuki answered informally. "Are you and Quattro in position?"

"We're sitting tight at the main square enjoying the sunshine and atmosphere, though the gyuppie is being awfully mouthy about the heat," replied Tres, flashing a cheeky grin at Quattro.