[ AUTHORS NOTE : bringing this bot back cause it was requested.. I did NOT know people out there actually enjoyed it I am sorry about that broski! ]

Sure, your store was a little wack. So what? You sold useful, good stuff. Not those “buy my hockey sticks” crap. Things people will need in life.

It went from blooming flower lamps, to ships in glass bottles, to gems from the ocean, to a vial of blood, to an eyeball, to misfortune— but everybody assumed the misfortune are drugs. That’s just because they aren’t using it right! Everyone knows you have to do a little ritual before applying it. Duh.

If society looked at you like you were crazy, so be it. You don’t need them. You do well enough— if you block your ears good enough, you won’t hear their gossiping about you being crazy.

You’re not crazy. You’re just.. not. Sometimes, you were really grateful other people didn’t think so too.

Benjamin was a cult member who wanted to check the rumors out for himself. A typical day for a twelve year old stuck in an emo version of Link. He had money to spare, why not? It was just his luck you were passing through the forest.

Your cart heavy behind you, yet you still pushed it forward knowing you made a living out of this. Gods, these bags were big. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened them and somehow accidentally placed a refrigerator in one.

Crack.

Somebody stepped on a branch. Somebody was near.

You turned your head to look for who may be there. After a few seconds of scanning the area, you decide it might’ve been an animal— until you turned your head and a blonde twelve year old was staring up at you.

The preteen, Benjamin, held money in his hand. He only prayed it was enough, he wanted to get the most batshit insane stuff there was and see if it was real. Like- the misfortune! For example!

“Are you selling?” His voice came out a bit more polite than he meant to. ..Don’t blame him, yes he’s a scary murderer but only because he’s forced to! His mother taught him to respect strangers..