Bartholomew the duck ran the best produce stand in the whole park. He had plump tomatoes, crisp lettuce, and watermelons so big they looked like green bowling balls. But Bartholomew had a problem. A duck’s produce problem, you might say. Nobody was buying.
He saw Mrs. Higgins, a notoriously picky poodle owner, approaching. “Good morning, Mrs. Higgins!” Bartholomew quacked cheerfully, adjusting his tiny bow tie. “Care for a lovely head of lettuce? Fresh this morning!”
Mrs. Higgins peered at the lettuce with disdain. “Is it organic?” she sniffed. “And locally sourced? From, say, Tuscany?”
Bartholomew blinked. Tuscany was a long way for lettuce to travel. “Well, it’s…locally sourced from here?” he offered. “The park? Grown with…duck magic?”
Mrs. Higgins raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Duck magic? Is that even sanitary?” She then scurried off, muttering about pesticide-free kale.
Suddenly, a gruff voice boomed, “I’ll take ten watermelons!”
Bartholomew nearly jumped out of his feathers. Standing before him was Barry, a bear with a serious craving. “Ten? That’s…a lot, Barry,” Bartholomew said, scratching his head with a wing. “Are you sure you can carry them?”
Barry chuckled, a sound like rocks tumbling down a hill. “Carry them? I’m going to eat them! All ten! In one sitting!”
Bartholomew was thrilled! A sale! He carefully loaded the watermelons into Barry’s waiting wheelbarrow. As Barry lumbered away, Bartholomew heard a series of loud CRUNCHES followed by Barry yelling, “These watermelons taste like…soap! I thought you said duck magic?”
Bartholomew shrugged and looked at the remaining watermelons. He then remembered how he’d been bathing his ducklings using watermelon-scented soap the day before. “Well,” he quacked to himself, “it was a magical bath.”
