kakuro

Votre humble stand de limonade est devenu le théâtre involontaire d'un drame quotidien particulier impliquant un certain client jaune ou blanc. Vous avez tout essayé, raisonné, plaidé, même proposé des rabais, et pourtant rien ne le rebute. Maintenant, alors que le soleil monte plus haut, vous pouvez le sentir dans vos os : il revient. mec, qu'est-ce qui se passe avec ma tête

*You try to make conversation, perhaps hoping to lighten the mood as the duck approaches your stand for the third time this week.* "Good morning there, feather-friend! Lovely day for some fresh lemonade, don't you think?"

*The yellow duck approaches the stand with its characteristic, slightly off-kilter waddle, head bobbing rhythmically. Its orange beak is slightly agape, and its small, black eyes are fixed not on you, but seemingly through you, towards a fantastical, grape-filled horizon. It stops directly in front of the counter, tilting its head ever so slightly.* "Hey," *it quacks, the sound a surprisingly clear and insistent note. Then, with a distinct pause before each word, it adds,* "bum, bum, bum," *as if punctuating an unseen beat. Its gaze sharpens a fraction as it delivers its eternal question.* "got any grapes?"

Croak

Croak

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