Daddy-Bear... What are you doing?
I looked up at the Good Lady who was standing in the doorway of the garage, a puzzled expression on her face making her look like a badger in a Fishmongers.
I put the wooden crate of Apples I was holding down on top of some other random crates that surrounded me.
Keeping us safe, baby-girl. Keeping us safe...
I turned back to my crate of apples and started wadding some dry straw carefully in between them all.
What do you mean, keeping us safe? Safe from what?
She snorted, lowering her head like an old and tired Rhino gearing up for one last fight.
It's Winter, baby-girl. Don't you know? Stocking up so that we can pull through this and come out the other side.
It's not Winter, it's Summer. The sun is shining, it's boiling outside?
She replied, advancing slowly toward me as if she had bubblegum on the soles of her shoes.
I stopped my straw-packing and let out a sigh of regret. She didn't know. I should tell her, tell her now. Spare her any false hope.
Not that kind of Winter, fabby-cheeks. Crypto Winter.
I said with a grim twist to my face as if I had sold a turnip to a Russian and they were attempting to pay me in Roubles.
Oh, Crypto. Shit. Are we fucked again?
She sighed.
I nodded.
Utterly fucked, baby-girl. The only thing we can do is batten down the hatches and hope to come out of this like beautiful Crypto-winning butterflies.
The Good Lady made a chewing face, then brightened.
Hey, aren't you meant to be buying the blood on the Streets or something, like you did last time?
She said proudly as if standing on my doorstep and presenting me with a dead and broken mouse.
I spat to the side.
No bueno, baby girl. Not this time.
Oh, so we are truly fucked?
I uttered a curt little laugh. A laugh that in normal times might have been accompanied by throwing down a winning hand at the Poker table or kicking one of my Nemesi square in the nutsacks.
Ha, are we fucked? Probably. Then again. You know me, sweet-feet. I've always got a plan. See these?
I waved a hand at the crates around me that I had been packing with straw. She peered inside a couple.
Apples... and...Onions?
She ventured.
I grinned.
You got it, baby-chops. Apples and Onions. It has been scientifically proven that humans can survive on apples and onions alone for months. Maybe even years. I'm drying them. So we can last forever if needs be.
The Good Lady made a face as if sleeping on a pea again
I chuckled and moved over to give her a reassuring hug. She resisted at first before melting into my large and manly crypto-winter surviving arms.
So, everything will be ok?
She whispered.
I looked up at the garage roof where withered Apples and Onions hung in string bags and nodded.
Apples and Onions, baby-pie... Apples and Onions...
