The breeze blew through the cemetery, ruffling Flippy's messy green headfur. The bear stood before a wall of large square tiles with his green beret held respectfully to his chest.

This was the only day he ever took off his hat. Every year, on the same day, he's come to this spot and gaze at the names etched into the tiles. Some belonged to Tree Friends he'd never met, while others were of some of his closest friends. But they had all been killed in the battle years ago, a battle that Flippy had managed to walk away from alive.

An almost identical bear appeared out of thin air, lounging casually against the wall with his paws clasped behind his head. Through sly blue eyes, he watched Flippy.

Flippy sighed without turning to his visitor. "What do you want, Cthulhu?"

The demon raised an eyebrow. "I dunno, Flip, what do you think I want?"

Flippy placed his beret back on his head. "No, Cthulhu. Not today. Never today."

"Aw, why not?" Cthulhu wheedled. "Isn't today the anniversary of--"

"The day I lost almost everyone I care about?" Flippy interrupted irritably. "The day I got stuck dealing with you?"

Cthulhu shrugged. "If you say so. But c'mon, I see an easy kill right over there! The little brat'll be back before his idiot father even notices, and we can always blame it on the moose."

Flippy followd his gaze to where Cub was standing silently in front of his mother's grave with a small flower clutched in his paw."No."

"I'll just snap his neck. It'll barely hurt him!"

"No!"

Sighing exasperatedly, he shouldered past Cthulhu and approached the small bear. Never before had he killed Cub, and he had no intentions of allowing a first time.

"Hello, Cub."

Cub's eyes never left the tombstone. "'Lo, Mista Flip."

"Talking to her again?"

"Yep." Cub's brow furrowed, and he looked up at Flippy. "Mista Flip? Will I ever see 'er again?"

Flippy felt his stomach jump to his throat. "I don't know, Cub." Wanting to change the subject, Flippy commented, "That's a nice flower you have there, Cub. Is it for her?"

"Yep," Cub repeated, holding it up for the older bear to see. "Iss not real. Issa fake flower."

Flippy smiled at Cub's innocense. "Is there a difference? They look the same."

"Big diff'rence," Cub replied. "Fake one's not never gonna die. Kinda like us, huh, Mista Flip?"

The green bear's eyes flicked to the wall of names. "Yeah. Kind of like us. It's a lovely flower, Cub. She'd love it, and it'll be here forever. Just like us."

Cub let the silk flower drop onto the grave. "I like the real ones better, Mista Flip."

Blinking in surprise, Flippy questioned him. "Really? Why do you say that?"

"I like 'em better," Cub replied with a shrug.

"Even though they die?"

Cub nodded furiously, his face completely serious. "I like 'em cause they die."

"But why?"

The younger bear stared up at him as though the answer was obvious. "Because they real."

Odd little thought I came up with during my uncle's funeral. This is not in any way connected to my other fics, besides the fact that Evil Flippy is still a demon named Cthulhu.

There will be a sequel.