[JOB] Hat's World-Class, to You!

"I've got the most embiggened brain of us all. The heck am I not the head for?"

"You've got the most "embiggened" ass of us all too, so you're bottom of the pyramid."

"Are you saying you can't lift us all?"

"I could lift you all with one finger! But I gotta lift the paper mache Ogremon head, y'know. That's the most important part."

"It's because it looks like you, isn't it?"

"Haw! I'm loads more handsome than that thing. But you gotta make do with what you can get."

"All this hiding's getting me antsious! Come on, let's get a move on already!"

"That's your job, legs! So get your butt moving!"

If Katrina wasn't sure about finding her suspicious figures before, she'd surely know them when she saw them now. What looked like a terrible Ogremon cosplayer came flopping down the streets of Whitewater City. The stranger had a massive Ogremon head made out of paper mache, permanently frozen in a terrifyingly wide smile. Its body, at an oddly stretched 12 feet tall, was wrapped up entirely in at least two trenchcoats. A pair of eyes poked out at the trenchcoat's chest, and another poked out at the groin. It's sense of balance was atrocious, swaying down the street as if it had celebrated far too hard earlier that afternoon. Occasionally it reached down with a rigid fist (were those seriously foam Hulk hands?) to whack itself in the side, whispering encouragement and criticism to its own hips.

Nevertheless, this complete and utter lack of coordination eventually made its way to the local hat stand. It knocked on the wall of the establishment quite a few times, the Hulk hand to its left nearly falling off as it did so. "Oi! Hatman!" it called, sounding like an already deep-voiced individual was trying to make his voice sound even deeper. Christian Bale's Batman would've been embarrassed by that level of put-upon gravel. Eventually a very unamused looking Burgermon appeared, adjusting its own hat as it looked up at the "Ogremon." "I'm looking for a hat big enough to fit my big, beautiful head. Could you tell me about all the hats that exist, ever?"

It was an absurd request. But a customer was a customer, and when you somehow wash out of the burger business you need to do what you can. The Burgermon sighed, then pulled out a list of inventory to start explaining them all. It even had pictures, which delighted the "Ogremon".

More delightful, though, was having a distracted shopkeeper. The "Ogremon" shifted slightly, suddenly sinking 4 feet lower. That was because a SnowGoblimon just did a combat roll out from the back of the trenchcoats, dusting itself off and sighing in relief. Now SnowGoblimon wouldn't have to be sandwiched between those other two in this sweaty heat! He quickly fell on his stomach and began crawling towards the back of the hat stand, ready to take whatever he wanted. It probably would've been more subtle if he didn't insist on humming dramatic spy music as he did so, which was thankfully masked by loud "oooohs" an "aaaaahs" from his brothers poring over the hat catalogue.

Would the Ogrelords' most harebrained scheme yet find success? Only time could tell.

"Oi! Show me the top hat.

Alright, alright, now the garden hat.

. . . Show me the top hat again. I dunno which one I want right now."

"Ogremon" had caught the poor Burgermon in a loop. By constantly asking to see the same two hats, he was keeping him at the front counter for as long as possible. That gave SnowGoblimon free reign to squeeze behind the stand, perusing the many wonderful looking hat racks that were currently available. He eagerly spun the racks around, a hacking cough from "Ogremon" covering up the sound of the hat rack spinning a little too quickly for comfort. Right. This was going to take caution, tact, and subtlety.

Damnit, that sounded a lot like effort.

Also sounding a lot like effort was continuing to put up with "Ogremon." For the twentieth time he asked to see the top hat, Burgermon feeling more like he was giving them an eye exam than he was actually selling them hats. How many times was this ogre going to ask to see the same two hats? It was getting exhausting! "Have you picked one yet?" he asked, the exasperation in his voice palpable. Stupid hat stand. Stupid family business. Stupid paper mache ogre head.

Wait. Something didn't quite seem right here. Burgermon's eyes lowered in suspicion as he looked at the "Ogremon," tilting his head slightly to try and take in some of the details. Under the mask Goblimon started to sweat. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. Just as Burgermon started to turn away from the front counter, he slammed both hands down to get Burgermon's attention back.

"We'll take one of everything!"

What. Burgermon coughed somewhat uncomfortably at this announcement, attention right back on his strange customer. "One of everything," he repeated, voice as dry as the beach sands. "All of these hats. Do you have that much money?"

"I've got a real big head," "Ogremon" said. "Sun's been beating down on it nonstop. I gotta get a bunch of hats to cover it all, right? 'Sides, the customer's always right!" That was checkmate. You know, except for the part where it totally wasn't. Burgermon looked very unamused, but hey. Money was money. He sighed as he pulled out a slight calculator, tapping in a few numbers to try and find what the price of literally every hat in the store would be.

Maybe SnowGoblimon should've stopped playing with hatracks before it got to this point. However, he finally set his eyes on the perfect trio of hats for the group. One was a purple cap with a zebra-print band and a long, red feather sticking out of the side. Another was a chef's hat, the words "KISS THE COOK" printed along the front in Digital text. Finally, there was one of those novelty soda drink helmets, unfortunately not pre-loaded with soda. Looking cautiously to make sure nobody was looking on, the SnowGoblimon quickly grabbed the hats and jammed them down his parka. He spun the hatracks back in position, too, to try and hide the stolen merchandise. Then he rolled back out of the shop, putting a finger over his lips to signal that "Ogremon" shouldn't start cheering yet.

Flawless victory?

Fortunately, Katrina and Lammon's rambling went unnoticed. It was as if SnowGoblimon was in a world of his own, blocking out anything that may have even come close to approaching him. He hummed a horribly off-key tune to himself as he walked, occasionally chancing upon a beautiful melody only to ruin it with what sounded like vocal dubstep.

If Katrina and Lammon were hoping for an easy stakeout, they'd be wrong. Unlike "Ogremon", who had blundered off in as straight of a line as possible, SnowGoblimon really enjoyed the scenic route. He did a slow, ponderous lap around the boardwalk, occasionally taking off the woolly hat he was wearing to fan himself with. Then, after his little loop, he headed to a local food stand to buy a hot dog. Then another hot dog. Was he seriously buying his hot dogs one at a time? What kind of weirdo were Katrina and Lammon dealing with here? By the time he had purchased his fourth hot dog (keeping them all stacked between his neck and shoulder for conveniences' sake, of course), he was finally content enough to get moving again.

One by one he tossed the hot dogs into his mouth, pretty much eating them whole as he continued walking. It was only when he had finished that SnowGoblimon started changing direction, walking right back to the beach. He stooped down as if to start building a sandcastle, but thankfully he wouldn't be wasting much more of Katrina and Lammon's time. "Ogremon" was back, laughing as he flexed relentlessly at the incoming tides. SnowGoblimon walked up to him, bumping him with a pointed elbow. "Thanks for the hats, daddy," he said, barely able to say the last word without snickering.

"Oi! Don't make this weird on us, ya git!" the "Ogremon" hissed, giving the SnowGoblimon a whack upside the head.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't bust the merchandise," SnowGoblimon warned, dusting a spot where "Ogremon's" ham-like hands nearly splattered a hat. "We worked hard on this one, right?"

"Yeah! The heck was this even for, if not for headwearings?" the "Ogremon's" . . . pants grunted? Weird.

"Fine, fine, fiiiiine," "Ogremon" said, exasperated. "Lets get to the fortress and break these puppies out, eh?" With that said the duo stormed off towards what could charitably be described as a giant pile of sticks. A large fence sitting in front of the pile seemed to be a "door" of sorts, judging by how "Ogremon" pried it open in order to make his way in. SnowGoblimon entered first, then "Ogremon" followed while slamming the fence shut. Torches seemed to erupt as soon as he slammed the door. Clearly, the budget of this house was 0 on structural integrity, 100% on pyrotechnics.

Scrawled on the door was a series of rules:

NO 'UMIES ALLOWED
NO GIRLS ALLOWED
BEWARE OF DOG
BEWARE OF OGRE
WIPE YOU FEET BEFORE ENTERING, YA ANIMAL.

Well, at least they were civilized.

Lammon was in luck. The Ogrelords' "gate", being little more than a dislodged picket fence, fell down pretty much the second that it was tapped. The soft sands of the beach prevented it from making too much noise as it felled, and a somewhat ajar door was now all that was separating Katrina and Lammon from these dastardly bandits. Judging by the sounds spilling from their fortress, they were quite troublesome, too. There were tons of explosions, and constant yelling threatening to be drowned out by the mad bombing. What the heck did they have cooking up inside of this fortress to have this many explosions to spare?

A stiff breeze knocking the door a little further open showed all. It wasn't an actual explosion, but rather the climax of The Fate of the Furious. A very unstable looking DVD player was stuttering like crazy as it tried to get through each scene, with the action barely visible against a thick carpet of static. Eventually a green Goblimon rose from a ratty-looking couch and stepped up to the plate to fix this problem. He gave the DVD player a solid whack with his fist. It didn't change much.

"Welp. Even our TV disrespects the boss now," SnowGoblimon joked, earning an elbow from Goblimon in response.

"Didn't we have a guy in Terminus who'd be refixing it?" a darker green Shamamon asked. " 'Umie technologicals are always breaking down without being fiddled with first."

"You two ate all his chips and he booted us right out of the shop!" Goblimon said, exasperated. With how unintelligent this trio seemed to be, it was unclear whether they meant potato or computer by that. "But it ain't a problem, boys. We got the best mechanic anyone could ask for. Mr. Fisty!" To demonstrate, Goblimon punched down nice and casual onto the DVD player.

It broke.

A silence fell over the room, all three of the Goblimon trio bowing their heads in honor of their fallen comrade. Then when the moment of silence was over, Goblimon hurled it into the corner of their one-room fortress. There were at least five other smashed DVD players there. "Guess we gotta swipe us another, eh?" Goblimon said, dusting his hands off and turning around. As he did so, he finally caught wind of the fact that they were being trailed. He awkwardly turned to face Shamamon, who awkwardly turned to face SnowGoblimon.

SnowGoblimon simply shrugged. "Didn't read the sign?" he asked, standing from his seat to face Katrina and Lammon. Shamamon simply looked around, smirked, and laid down to take the entire couch for himself. "Rude."

"Hey, Sherlock Holmes did it after all," SnowGoblimon said, merrily clapping. "She might take your place as the smart guy after all at this rate, Shamamon."

"Like heck she will!" Shamamon said. "I'm the brain and the brawn, y'hear?"

"Well, you're our winning personality, at least," SnowGoblimon joked, Shamamon giving him an elbow in irritation.

Immediately the two started half-play, half-real fighting, Goblimon looking at his wrist as if checking his watch to see if they were done. Upon realizing that they wouldn't be for a long while, Goblimon sighed and clonked their heads together like a pair of coconuts. "Will ya two knock it off? We're bein' accused of a crime that we totally committed here! Anyway, I told you all the disguise was a stupid idea."

"The disguise was your idea," Shamamon whined, still rubbing his forehead from where they collided. "And yeah, we stole the hats! And you're wondering what we've been doin' with 'em?

We wear 'em, ya git!"

"Yeah. Nobody's got anything on our style," SnowGoblimon said, smirking. "You wanna see for yourself? Look in our big ol' pile and give it a try." He pointed towards a large pile of assorted junk. Mixed in with bootleg DVDs, lucha libre masks, and what looked like an old, somewhat rotten Christmas tree was a large batch of fancy hats.

"He's right," Goblimon bellowed. "You two ain't leavin' here . . .

Without a style-off!"

As soon as Lammon asked what a style-off was, the Ogrelords shot each other dumbfounded looks. Then they burst into laughter, practically shaking the foundation of their haphazard bungalow with how much of a gut they were busting. SnowGoblimon was leaning on Goblimon for support, while Shamamon pointed a grubby finger at the duo. "Oi, 'umies really don't know anything, do they?" he asked, looking towards the others. "Should we just give 'em a poundatizing now, spare 'em the trouble of having to live like that?"

"Oi, no pounding today," Goblimon warned. "Look at 'em! They don't got an ounce of muscle between the two. Ain't gonna be worth it, I tell ya. But handing their butts to them in a style-off? Now that'd be one heck of a time! C'mon already, get yer hats ready!"

Immediately, the Ogrelords rushed to their giant mound of miscellaneous junk. For such an unruly looking pile they sifted through it with ease, tons of leftover food and dust flying in every direction as they quickly pulled out a trio of hats. Goblimon was now wearing a wide-brimmed cowboy hat, tilting it over his eyes in a "mysterious" fashion. A shame he held it too far and instead just looked ridiculous. Shamamon meant for quantity over quality, stacking a trio of ratty-looking top hats on his head until he was soon wearing a miniature tower. Finally, SnowGoblimon put on a felt wizard cap, pinching the tip to readjust it every time it started to droop.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" SnowGoblimon asked. "Are you gonna pick a hat or what?" He motioned towards the pile, as well as all of the hats sticking out of it. Not only did the Goblimon trio's shuffling make them far more visible, but they were also totally unguarded.

The Ogrelords were not very smart.