The Shirt Incident

Flops got a new t-shirt, but it seems not everyone is happy about it. Luckily for Flops, Odie comes to the rescue when a hippie badger starts taking offense.

Ext. The City Square

Flops walked through Sala City's circular City Square wearing his new acquisition: a bright yellow t-shirt emblazoned with "I PRINT MY OWN CARBON CREDITS" in bold letters. He'd gotten it at a pop-up stall for three dollars, which felt like either a great deal or a terrible omen.

A badger in a hemp vest stopped dead in his tracks, pointing at Flops' chest. "Excuse me. EXCUSE me. That shirt is deeply problematic."

Flops glanced down at it. "Is it? I thought it was mostly cotton."

"You're making light of the climate crisis!" The badger's voice rose. "Carbon credits are a serious mechanism for—"

"For corporate greenwashing?" Flops offered helpfully, his fast-talking instincts kicking in. "For allowing polluters to buy their way out of accountability? For creating a market where the wealthy can literally purchase the right to destroy the planet while—"

"That's not the POINT!" The badger was now gesticulating wildly. "You can't just WEAR that! It's offensive! It's climate denial!"

"Actually," Flops said, grinning, "I'm pretty sure I can wear whatever—"

"I'm calling the police! This is harassment! This is—is—VISUAL ASSAULT!" The badger yells.

A smooth voice cut through the commotion. "Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" Odie says.

Odie Yotie materialized beside them, briefcase in hand, sunglasses glinting despite the overcast sky. His blazer was immaculate, his graphic tee underneath featuring a gavel with flames around it.

The badger whirled on him. "This fox is wearing hate speech!" He says.

"Hate speech." Odie repeated it slowly, savoring each syllable. "Fascinating. Tell me, are you familiar with Sala City Municipal Code, Article Seven, Section Four, Subsection C?"

"I—what? No, but—" The badger replies.

"Of course not. Few are." Odie pulled a small leather-bound book from his briefcase with theatrical precision. "It clearly states that expressive garments fall under protected speech unless they explicitly advocate for imminent lawless action, as established in Brandenburg v. Ohio, nineteen sixty-nine. Tell me..." He leaned in slightly. "Is my client's shirt advocating for imminent lawless action?"

"It's making a mockery of—" The badger replies.

"That's a no, then." Odie flipped a page, not actually reading it. "Furthermore, under the Sala City Fair Expression Act—passed by Mayor O'Bunny during his third term, I believe it was a Tuesday—satirical commentary on economic systems is explicitly protected. Carbon credit markets, being economic systems, fall squarely within that protection."

The badger's momentum was faltering. "But it's offensive to people who care about—"

"Offense." Odie smiled, and it wasn't entirely friendly. "Is not. Actionable." He punctuated each word with a tap of his finger on the briefcase. "Cohen v. California, nineteen seventy-one. Snyder v. Phelps, twenty-eleven. The Supreme Court has repeatedly held that speech does not lose First Amendment protection simply because it offends."

"This is absurd! You can't just—" The badger says.

"I can and I am." Odie closed his book with a soft snap. "Now, unless you'd like to file a formal complaint—which I should mention would require you to submit Form 47-B in triplicate, along with a fifty-dollar processing fee and a notarized statement of grievance witnessed by two unrelated parties—I suggest we all move along with our days."

The badger opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "This is why the planet is dying."

"Perhaps," Odie said smoothly, "but it won't be because of a t-shirt."

The badger stormed off, muttering about corporate lawyers and the end of civil discourse.

Flops watched him go, then turned to Odie. "That was beautiful. How much do I owe you?"

"For this? Nothing. Consider it a public service." Odie adjusted his sunglasses. "Besides, I've been looking for an excuse to cite Brandenburg v. Ohio all week. You've done me a favor."

"You know Brandenburg v. Ohio off the top of your head?" Flops asks.

"Don't you?" Odie smirked. "Also, that Sala City Fair Expression Act I mentioned? Doesn't exist. I made it up."

Flops blinked. "And he just... believed you?"

"People hear 'Municipal Code' and their brains shut off. It's remarkable, really." Odie started walking away, then paused. "Nice shirt, by the way. Where'd you get it?"

"Pop-up stall. Three bucks." Flops says.

"Hmm. Keep the receipt. If anyone else complains, tell them your attorney has it documented as 'lawful expressive merchandise.'" He waved without turning around. "Those are words I just invented, but they sound official."

Flops looked down at his shirt, then at Odie's retreating figure.

"I love this town," Flops said to no one in particular, and continued his walk through the circular square that wasn't a square at all.