Buttermilk had defeated cults, squirrels, and influencer beefs. But now she faced the deadliest enemy of all:
The Algorithm.
It started on a quiet Tuesday. Carlton was checking the analytics dashboard and did a double take. Then a triple. Then a quadruple, which involved blinking so hard he saw the past.
"We're shadowbanned," he whispered.
Travis, in the middle of inventing a new dog treat flavor called "Coconut Chaos," looked up. "What? Why?"
"The engagement rate dropped 74%. Our reach fell into a crater. Our top comment is from a bot selling crypto treats."
Buttermilk, sprawled across five pillows and a yoga mat, snorted in her sleep.
Carlton turned the laptop around. "We posted that clip of her sneezing into her own butt and everyone loved it. But the algorithm... it's burying us."
Travis frowned. "Maybe it's... too enlightened?"
Carlton stood. "No. This is war."
---
Phase One: Obsessive Analytics Disorder
Carlton went full goblin mode. He wore blue light glasses. He subscribed to 14 growth-hacking newsletters. He installed three ring lights around Buttermilk while she was sleeping.
He whispered to Travis at 3 a.m.: "We need a thumbnail where she looks surprised. And maybe one where she looks guilty. Like she committed tax fraud."
Travis whispered back: "Why are we whispering?"
"Because the algorithm can hear us."
---
Phase Two: Rebranding or Re-breaking?
Travis suggested, "Maybe we pivot. Buttermilk as a cooking channel? 'Bone Appétit'?"
Carlton countered, "No, no, no. Mukbang. Dogs eating large portions of food."
"Isn't that... unhealthy?"
"Not if it's cucumbers and those weird watermelons shaped like cubes."
They tried it. Buttermilk licked a cucumber once, then sat down on it.
The video got six likes. One was from Travis. Two were from Carlton's alt accounts.
---
Phase Three: Desperation Mode Activated
They tried:
Buttermilk reacting to human fails (she fell asleep halfway through).
Dog ASMR (just sniffing and heavy breathing).
Collaborations with obscure animals, including an anxious llama.
Nothing worked. The algorithm was ice.
Carlton stared at the analytics graph, which now looked like a ski slope. "She's being punished for chasing truth."
---
Enter: Data Dave
Carlton made a call to a legendary underground consultant: Data Dave. Former meme dealer. Now AI whisperer.
Dave arrived wearing sunglasses, a robe, and socks that said "Feed Me Metrics."
He scanned Buttermilk. "She's got the it-factor. But she needs... pivot energy."
"What's that?"
"Drama. Stakes. Lore."
Travis: "We gave her a nemesis, a cult, and a squirrel uprising."
Dave nodded. "Respect. But now? We give her... a redemption arc."
---
Phase Four: The Redemption Arc Nobody Asked For
They created a faux scandal:
> BREAKING: BUTTERMILK CANCELLED FOR LICKING ALL THE PEANUT BUTTER IN THE PARK.
Then followed it up with:
> TEARFUL APOLOGY LIVESTREAM: "I Was In a Dark Place (Under the Couch)."
Fan engagement skyrocketed. Fan edits. Reaction videos. One guy proposed marriage in the comments.
The algorithm bent. Views returned. Buttermilk blinked at her own face on a billboard downtown.
She promptly peed on the pole below it.
Carlton smiled. "We're back."
Travis high-fived Buttermilk, who mistook his hand for a slice of ham.
---
End Scene: The Price of Fame
As they curled up for the night, surrounded by ring lights, data dashboards, and a glowing salt lamp, Carlton sighed.
"We beat the algorithm."
Travis whispered, "For now."
Buttermilk snored.
Outside, a squirrel scrolled on a tiny phone.
The war wasn't over.
To be continued...