Kyena drowsily poked her head out of the crate, wood shavings sticking to fur and whiskers. She gave a yawn and licked her chops, rotating around blearily until the vague, hulking orange shape of her business partner showed up. Kynxe was still sleeping in his hammock, and there would be no waking him, not this early. But now she was oriented with the room, she climbed out of her crate, dusted the shavings off and scooped them back in, and dressed herself for the day ahead.
Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, she puttered around making sure everything was just so. The back room was, for the first time, nearly empty of stock. What little remained she pulled out to the main floor of the shop.
The space was small, but she'd made sure it was filled efficiently. Four large, double-sided and ceiling-high shelves were placed, two on each side of the room, with a path between them leading up to an upper deck of sorts. At some point in the past, there had been some disaster or other, and rather than destroy the building and start from scratch, they'd simply repaired over it. Beneath the deck, more shelves had been placed, while on top, several armoires and cabinets lined the walls, with a rickety clothes rack set between. A curtain was drawn between the left side of the deck and one of the shelves, with a sign declaring "Not For Kits"; things too dangerous or lewd to be on display were stuffed floor to ceiling in that part of the shack. Not that it had ever stopped kits. They were drawn to the curtain more than the toys.
A helpful map she had drawn was posted by the front counter:
The floor's precarious passageways were lined with pyramids of goods, jars of preserves, empty ale mugs, piles of folded clothing, anything that didn't fit on a shelf. Cloaks, capes, scarves, and hats hung from hooks on the sides of the shelves; a few chairs were stacked in the corner by the back room, and three different ladders were laid up against walls and shelves. If she had tried to document every variety of object in the shop, the map would have been better off as a rug, and it still would have been indecipherable from overlapping texts.
She drew the curtain away from the front window behind the counter, turned the [Cackle Closed :<] sign around to display [Cackle-On In!], unlocked the gilder-box, opened the ledger and ink well, unlocked the front door and pulled the curtain in the little round window aside, then went out and picked up the Smelt tucked into the mail box.
Front page advertisement. It had cost a good amount of debt, but that would pay itself off, she assured herself. Everybeast knew about the Bilge in the Bucket, and now everybeast would know The Cackle Shack, "Too"!
And they'd even got the heart in. She grinned like an idiot. Five hundred gilders for a custom printing press stamp, pfft! How could that not make ten times that back in a week?
A cart pulled up just as she finished reading it, and she bounded over, dooking eagerly to meet the delivery.
"Fresh doughnuts, sweet breads, and shark sausage twists, Ms. Cackle!"
"Aye! Gotta have the snackles for the big day!"
She brought them in and arranged them on the Snackles display by the front door, then leapt over the counter in excitement, her tail swooshing the inkwell to the floor with a splash that splattered up the front window and her legs.
"Whoops..."
She gazed blankly at the shop's interior.
"Guess someone's gonna be buying a mottled towel! Shouldn't have sold me last mop, mayhaps..."
Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, she puttered around making sure everything was just so. The back room was, for the first time, nearly empty of stock. What little remained she pulled out to the main floor of the shop.
The space was small, but she'd made sure it was filled efficiently. Four large, double-sided and ceiling-high shelves were placed, two on each side of the room, with a path between them leading up to an upper deck of sorts. At some point in the past, there had been some disaster or other, and rather than destroy the building and start from scratch, they'd simply repaired over it. Beneath the deck, more shelves had been placed, while on top, several armoires and cabinets lined the walls, with a rickety clothes rack set between. A curtain was drawn between the left side of the deck and one of the shelves, with a sign declaring "Not For Kits"; things too dangerous or lewd to be on display were stuffed floor to ceiling in that part of the shack. Not that it had ever stopped kits. They were drawn to the curtain more than the toys.
A helpful map she had drawn was posted by the front counter:
The floor's precarious passageways were lined with pyramids of goods, jars of preserves, empty ale mugs, piles of folded clothing, anything that didn't fit on a shelf. Cloaks, capes, scarves, and hats hung from hooks on the sides of the shelves; a few chairs were stacked in the corner by the back room, and three different ladders were laid up against walls and shelves. If she had tried to document every variety of object in the shop, the map would have been better off as a rug, and it still would have been indecipherable from overlapping texts.
She drew the curtain away from the front window behind the counter, turned the [Cackle Closed :<] sign around to display [Cackle-On In!], unlocked the gilder-box, opened the ledger and ink well, unlocked the front door and pulled the curtain in the little round window aside, then went out and picked up the Smelt tucked into the mail box.
Front page advertisement. It had cost a good amount of debt, but that would pay itself off, she assured herself. Everybeast knew about the Bilge in the Bucket, and now everybeast would know The Cackle Shack, "Too"!
GRAND RE-OPENING!
CACKLE SHACK, "TOO"
You can shop anywhere you
like, but make sure to shop at
the Cackle Shack, "Too"!
You'll leave with joy in your
and a cackle in your throat!
Come for the Cackles!
Stay for the Snackles!
Corner of Maple and Magh Ave.
CACKLE SHACK, "TOO"
You can shop anywhere you
like, but make sure to shop at
the Cackle Shack, "Too"!
You'll leave with joy in your
and a cackle in your throat!
Come for the Cackles!
Stay for the Snackles!
Corner of Maple and Magh Ave.
And they'd even got the heart in. She grinned like an idiot. Five hundred gilders for a custom printing press stamp, pfft! How could that not make ten times that back in a week?
A cart pulled up just as she finished reading it, and she bounded over, dooking eagerly to meet the delivery.
"Fresh doughnuts, sweet breads, and shark sausage twists, Ms. Cackle!"
"Aye! Gotta have the snackles for the big day!"
She brought them in and arranged them on the Snackles display by the front door, then leapt over the counter in excitement, her tail swooshing the inkwell to the floor with a splash that splattered up the front window and her legs.
"Whoops..."
She gazed blankly at the shop's interior.
"Guess someone's gonna be buying a mottled towel! Shouldn't have sold me last mop, mayhaps..."
