This is the end. Beautiful friend. The end. My only friend...

CA$H ONLY
Epilogue: AND ¢REDIT
By: I Write Big

"Red wire or blue wire? Which is it?!' screamed Officer Judas Hopson into his radio. His feeble bunny paw barely held onto the wirecutters as the bomb's countdown reached 20 seconds! There was no response. "Marmaduke? Come in! Duke, you there?! Which wire?!" Suddenly, the orphanage's window was smashed open and in flew on a sweet jetpack the coolest weasel Hopson had ever met.

"Sorry for being late. Ran into some turbulence," sassed Marmaduke 'Duke' Weselton in perfectly understandable english. He strapped the bomb onto his jetpack and set the thing to autopilot. The machine took off high into the air, zipping past the highest skyscraper in Zootopia!

3…

2…

1…

BOOOOM! A mushroom cloud of fire lit the sky and quickly dissipated! Disaster averted.

Judas donned his signature sunglasses. "Cut it pretty close there, partner."

Marmaduke chugged a fresh bottle of Phull Muun, "Come on, buddy, don't blow it of proportion."

"Christ Almighty!" Duke groaned into his palms.

"Shh!" hissed the cub in the seat next to him. The kit's spit sprayed all over his wifebeater.

If there was an audience Duke hated more than lonely housewives, it was kits. The theater was jam packed with sticky-clawed, always talking, obnoxiously laughing at every bad poop joke kits! He couldn't believe what schlock these underdeveloped idiots would force their parents to watch. It was bad enough that barely anything in the movie was accurate to what really happened, but the plot holes they made were so jarring! Travis left li'l Judy at Mama Pikel's store while she was out! He didn't hide the kit in her own crib, in her own home, all the way back in Zootopia! And did they really have to make the product placement so obvious?!

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Duke turned to the leopard usher, his golden fur glowed in the dark theater. "What, `cause of dis?" He pointed to the tripod that aimed his recording phone at the screen. "It's my movie. I can bootleg it if I wanna."

"Sir, please don't ruin this for everybody else," the usher calmly urged.

Duke looked at the snot-nosed brats who were so enraptured with the crappy scene and sighed, "Fine, I'm goin', I'm goin'." He gathered his equipment and left the room just as the credit 'Associate Producer: Duke Weaselton' flashed across the silver screen.

He stepped out of the movie theater and reviewed the footage he managed to capture. It should be enough to finish the cut. There may be a few jumps here and there, but that's the price of not paying full price.

"So… Was the movie good?" a voice interrupted him. It was a bunny, all by her lonesome, approaching him outta nowhere. It was safe to say from how familiarly she smiled at him that this mammal thought they were acquainted with Duke, but Duke didn't recognize them.

He squinted at the rather attractive stranger, "Sorry, do we know each other?"

The bunny snorted, "Haha, funny, Weselton."

"Ya one of da Pikels or—Hey, it's Weaselton! No mammal calls me Weselton, except—" His ears folded back, "...Cottontail?" She gave him a cocky arm fold and a smug smile and Duke nearly hurled. "UGH! No! Christ Almighty, no!"

"What?"

"Ya ain't in yer uniform! You're dressed normal! And you look good!" He shielded his eyes from the disturbing sight. "Agh! I dink I'm gonna be sick!"

"HEY!" She flashed that anger usually reserved for when she was chasing him down the street. "I'm not always dressed for the job, I have a life! Is this your idea of complimenting a doe?"

"Dis is me comin' ta terms wit reality!" He took a deep shuddering breath, "Oh God, oh God..."

"Oh get over it!" grumbled Cottontail, "You worked with a buck that looks just like me for this movie. How are my leggings weirder than that?" She waved at the fembuck Judas Hopson on the 'Hard Cash' movie poster who was a near identical match to her. "Where did you even find that guy?"

"Bryan 'n I... we met in Bunnyburrow," Duke awkwardly dodged after he was sure he wasn't going to lose his lunch, "'N `fore ya ask, da execs forced us ta cast ya as a buck. Dey sed audiences would get confused if da two main characters were male 'n female 'n didn't hook up in da end."

"You and me?!" The bunny looked like she was going to hurl, "UGH! No! Cheese and crackers, no!"

"Yeah! Dat's what I sed!"

"You two okay over here?" The turncoat sauntered over and wrapped a green sleeve around the bunny. "Sounds like you're having another one of your classic shouting matches."

"We're fine, Nick," Cottontail gritted her buckteeth. Duke assumed she was trying to get the traumatizing images out of her head. "We're just, uh, how did you put it, Weaselton?"

"Comin' ta terms wit reality."

"That."

"Ha! Well, when you're done trying to achieve the impossible, Carrots, we should get to our seats. Good to see you, Weaselton, keep staying outta trouble."

Duke politely flipped him off. The fox kindly waved goodbye and headed into the theater, not even acknowledging the middle finger. That managed to piss Duke off even more.

"I'm proud of you, Weaselton. I really am." Cottontail warmly gazed at the movie poster, specifically at Duke's name that was squeezed into the paragraph of credits at the bottom, "Kind of amazed how your knack for tricking mammals translated so well into movie making, but still, I'm proud. You're actually trying."

A well of satisfaction sprung in Duke's chest. He'd never admit out loud how much a dumb bunny's respect had come to mean to him. Couldn't have her start growing an ego or something. "Eh, you'd be surprised how many connections a fella like Big has 'n he owed me fer helpin' find li'l Judy. Wasn't dat hard ta get dis off da ground. I warnin' ya now, if dis picture bombs, den it's straight back ta purse snatchin'."

She scoffed at his threat, "From the reviews I've been hearing, I don't think that's happening." Then she faced him and spoke with authority, "Okay, now that that's out of the way, I'm going to ask for your help with something personally embarrassing and you are not going to laugh."

Duke laughed. Hard. After he caught her glare, he quickly stopped. "Sorry, I was gettin' da laughs out... Go ahead."

"Nick and I are seeing 'Love Comes Fur Me 2' and I'm not an… expert when it comes to romance." The abrupt introduction of the alien concept of Cottontail having a sex life nearly made Duke hurl again. "So… since you know movies and, according to Gideon, know how to direct actors, can you, um, direct me in the best way to, uh, be romantic...?"

"Ya want me ta tell how ta seduce Wilde?" stared Duke.

She stared back, petrified somewhere between ashamed and mortified.

There was a powerful urge to use this newfound knowledge against Cottontail. The paths of sabotage he could lead her down to inevitable failure were so enticing. It would be such perfect revenge for the months of arrests! Duke shut it all out and reminded himself repeatedly that she was his pal.

"Ya sed 'Love Comes Fur Me 2,' right? `Round 47 minutes in, dere's a lovey-dovey scene where da mom hugs her kit 'n says, 'I'll never leave ya.' When dat happens, lean against Wilde 'n whisper inta his ear, 'Me neither.' Dat oughta do it."

The bunny stammered, "Th-That's it?"

Duke gave her a couple bucks, "Here, buy somethin' ta drink, `cause Wilde is gonna be kissin' ya from dat moment to all da way through da credits. Trust me, dat fox has got mommy issues." He stormed away, before this got even more fucked up.

The weasel beelined it back to his old crappy apartment and began transferring the bootlegged footage to his computer. When the first 'Hard Cash' royalties check had appeared in his mailbox, Duke had nearly impulsed bought a house. Then he realized that would require paying property taxes, paying a plumber to fix his toilet, and a mortgage owed to a bank. He promptly cashed the check and got himself several 12-packs of Phull Muun to empty into his sink. Why fix what ain't broke, right? The transfer completed and he got to editing.

Bzzzt.

Not missing a beat, Duke put the call on speaker while still dragging clips with his other paw, "Hey Donny."

"Weasel, my middle brother and Fru Fru are going out tonight and I got stuck with babysitting duty. Ya wanna stop by?"

Duke rolled his eyes, "So ya can step out 'n stick me wit babysittin' duty again? Fat chance!"

"Aw, come on, Weasel. I know what'll convince ya." There was shuffling from the other end. He knew what was coming and tried to steel himself for the barrage.

"DUKE!" chirped the voice of li'l Judy, "Duke! Come! Play!"

He tried to resist, oh Lord, did he try! But it was useless, "Christ Almighty, fine, I'll be dere `round six. I gotta finish dis 'n make a delivery first."

"Too easy," chuckled Donny.

"Fuck it!" celebrated li'l Judy.

Duke hanged up and reviewed the cut. With the addition of today's footage, everything was finally in place. And yet, it didn't feel complete. There was no more content he could add to the film, but maybe… there was a sentiment that could go with it. Duke smashed open a bottle in the sink, grabbed the wad of cash, and dashed to the liquor store.

After dropping off the package and bribing every mammal who needed bribing, Duke arrived a little late at the Big Mansion where he was promptly abandoned by Donny. Despite his whining, the only company Duke really needed was li'l Judy. The baby shrew, though having grown a few hairs bigger, acted the same, clinging to the weasel the moment he walked through the door. The rest of the night was spent playing silly games, laughing at nothing, and finally a Dr. Zoos book. And as li'l Judy slumbered atop Duke's head, the weasel looked out the window and hoped someone in particular was happy with the package he delivered.

Travis Picklle picked at his lucky golden fang as he was led from his cell. It was after lights out, so the unexpected venture was a touch concerning, but he didn't show it. Rather than the warden's office or solitary or the high security wing where Clawleone was kept, the guards walked Travis into the prison library. On a table sat a laptop with a DVD halfway stuck into its disc slot. The guards sat him before the device and handed him a pair of headphones. With some hesitation, Travis put them on. The same guard then pushed the DVD the rest of the way in and a movie started. It opened with a cityscape shot of Zootopia.

An extremely poorly annunciated narration began, "Dis is da true story `bout how an everyday garbage-mammal took down one of da strongest mafia bosses in Zootopia."

Travis sputtered at what he was watching. The quality was so off. The entire frame had a layer of shadow over it, like it was a recording of a recording or something. Then the other guard slid to him something wrapped in brown paper. It resembled the shape of a tall can. Slowly he tore the clear tape and uncovered a glass bottle with a starry night sky but no moon. Instead, there was a halo of silver behind the words...

'Nuu Muun! From the brewmaster of Phull Muun! A recipe with a li'l of everything!'

"Dis story don't end da way ya expect fer da guy, but he sure as fuckin' hell put me 'n a whole lotta other assholes through a buncha shit. Not fer fame, not fer cash. He did dis all in da name of his family. 'N dat's what dis is `bout. Family."

Travis twisted off the cap and took a swig.

"Oh! That's… wow!"

"Good?" asked a guard.

"Good? This here's the greatest swill I've ever tasted!"

END OF STORY

And this is the part where I cynically point out that both Pops and Travis are filthy stinking rich and could easily buy their way out of prison, but hey, 'The Incredibles 2' already did that joke.

So concludes 'CA$H ONLY' and I hope you enjoyed the ride. Writing certainly has become an outlet for me and slowly but surely I feel like I'm improving. This was truly my first attempt at creating fleshed out original characters, which I've always struggled with. The next step logically is to craft my own original world, with fully original characters, in a fully original storyline. In other words, fiction. Actual non-fan fiction.

I'm planning to dedicate most of my creative time from now on to writing my own book. I still have some ongoing fanfics that I will continue, but they will most likely come out even slower than my usual tortoise-like speed. To every writer/reader who has followed and favorited me, I thank you with all my heart. Your praise, your criticism, your insight, and even your hate, it's all given me the confidence to keep challenging myself. To reach farther, dream harder, and write bigger.

It's a longshot to become an author. Historically speaking, some of the most recognized names in literature never got their first books published until the second half or even final third of their life. Not everyone who presses pen to paper will capture the imaginations of the reading world, but I hope one day that I will capture some. Just some. That'd be nice.

Regardless, I'll still be here and I'll still keep writing.

Just keep in mind that I write slow, I don't write often, but when I do, I Write Big.