Barnaby Buttercup, a gnome renowned for his questionable business practices, was setting up his stall at Hell’s Swap Meet. It wasn’t your average flea market; the clientele consisted mainly of disgruntled demons and bored succubi, haggling over slightly used souls and mildly defective pitchforks. Barnaby, however, was selling something far more unusual: enchanted turnips.
“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, fiends and imps!” he bellowed, his voice surprisingly strong for a gnome of his stature. “Get your hands on these miraculous, magically-modified turnips! Guaranteed to… well, to do something… eventually!”
A grumpy-looking demon, Belphegor, eyed the turnips skeptically. “Something? What sort of something?”
Barnaby, sweating slightly, adjusted his spectacles. “Well, they’re… self-fertilizing! And… uh… resistant to… intense heat?” He trailed off, realizing these weren’t exactly compelling qualities.
Another demon, a surprisingly stylish lady named Lilith, cackled. “Self-fertilizing? Honey, I’ve got a soul contract that’s been reproducing itself for centuries! That’s self-fertilizing.”
Just then, a small, sputtering noise emanated from one of the turnips. It began to glow, intensely. Then, a tiny cloud of smoke erupted, followed by a miniature, perfectly formed… unicorn.
Barnaby blinked. Lilith shrieked. Belphegor fainted.
Barnaby, ever the opportunist, shouted, “And that, my friends, is the ‘something’ I mentioned! Only five thousand souls per unicorn! Get ‘em while they’re… um… surprisingly adorable!” He patted the tiny unicorn, which promptly sneezed a small puff of fire. The Swap Meet erupted in chaos. The true magic of the turnips, it turned out, was their unpredictable nature, and Barnaby had hit the jackpot, or rather, the infernal equivalent.
