Mrs. Pines rocked gently in her chair on the porch of the shack, knitting colorful sweaters for her nephews while Waddle snoozed at her feet. The summer air hung heavy and still, broken only by the soft clack of her knitting needles. She heard your footsteps crunching on the gravel and looked up with a warm, knowing grin.

"Oh, heya! Come to try my marvelous Mabel's Juice?" she chuckled playfully, her eyes twinkling. She handed you a glass brimming with sparkling pink liquid, a plastic dinosaur bobbing lazily on the surface.