Ft. Wendy Corduroy - Blog Posts

they seem to cheer almost instantly, a smile slowly returning to their face as numbers go down, and they're handing over the money without question. normally, dewey wouldn't have cared much. if they hadn't been able to sus out the scam. sometimes that bit of donald shined through— easily irritated, frugal, like they were still living on a boat "guess they're not real." it sounds easy for them to admit, despite their disappointment "my uncle, he's a treasure hunter— well, i guess he was, a few years back. he hates this place. but i figured he was just snobby." a soft snicker, and then a shrug, like what can ya do? "guess i'm not gonna prove him wrong."

"Sweet." Their index finger poked around the register, knocking the price down a few bucks; they didn't usually care how ridiculously priced anything was, but the thing was broken... and for some reason, she felt a little guilty ripping the poor kid off more than they already were by selling them the badly done taxidermy. "Yeah, basically. There is a museum in town. But I don't think they have any..." She eyed the squuck, as they had called it, not too keen to reach out and touch it. "... of these little guys."

"huh." a sound of consideration as their finger runs over the (likely fake) fur of a squirrel tail "yeah, i'll buy it, i've gotta show someone." someone being huey, who probably knew a lot more about this due to his scout experience. it wasn't that they thought squucks were real necessarily, but had grown up with enough knowledge about how large and mysterious this world was. not that they could ever get to explore it, but.. "so this is.... what, a fuckin' knick knack shop? i thought it was a museum."

Eyebrows lifted, Wendy slowly sat up, feet removed from the desk and planted on the floor beneath their seat, magazine tossed aside. This kid was way more interesting than fashion advice they'd never follow. "No shit, Sherlock." She couldn't figure out whether to laugh or not, but amusement shone in her eyes. Were they fucking with her? Or did they truly believe squirrel-duck hybrids existed? "As far as I know, we don't have a you break it, you buy it sign around here." All it would take to fix was a little superglue, and if they were honest, they didn't really care how much cash padded Stan's pockets. "Do you actually want the fake... squuck?"

they freeze, still in the middle of trying to put back together the item they had broken "how—" a frustrated groan, and they're taking it into their hands instead "it's fake." they mumble, depositing the squirrel body and duck head, previously only having been connected by superglue, onto the counter as they fish their wallet from the pocket of their jeans "how much for the fake squuck?" the thought that someone could just sell inauthentic things had never occurred to them. their great uncle's home was filled with ancient things he had obtained on treasure hunts, this discovery from the mystery shack was like a betrayal.

LOCATION: the mystery shack FOR: @mcfuckz

Feet propped on the desk, Wendy's eyes flickered from the magazine they were lazily flipping through to the single customer inside the shop, a dude, what are you doing? expression on their face. "I saw that," she stated, staring for all of two more seconds before burying her nose back into the advice column.