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"The customer is always right" ... "in matters of taste." Unfortunately, some people have more than bad taste - they also have bad manners. Deborah Cadwaladr is unbothered.
Original story by:
CS_Bernard
THE BLACK CAT rested her elbows on the countertop of her storefront as the poodle briskly entered the building. The canid paused and glared about, almost agog, at the shelves and display cases filled with various New Age and Wicca products and materials. She wrinkled her nose so much that her fangs peeked out from under her lip. The female dog spied the cat and quickly strode up to her.
“Are you the owner?” the canine sniffed.
“That wou’d be me, Deborah Cadwaladr, pro’priut’uh,” the black cat said languidly.
Once she saw the cat’s heterochromia pupils, she reflexively blinked, then resumed her huffy tone, “Yes, well! My daughter came in her and bought this.” With an audible clunk the woman dropped a copy of Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic on the counter.
Deborah tilted her head back, looked down her muzzle, and examined the book and the familiar receipt from her register tucked into the dust jacket. “Mm, aye, I ca’ry a few romance nov’ls.”
The poodle drew her nose back and tilted it downwards, her hackles raised, “‘Romance’ indeed, this sort of thing is satanic.”
The black cat said nary a word, she only tilted her head slightly and flexed the corners of her lips down, as if she tried to be shocked but lacked the energy. She did not even flinch her eyelids.
The canid was miffed to not get some sort of reaction, perhaps a confession, from the shopkeeper. She raised her muzzle up and haughtily demanded, “I want the money back for this… thing. I don’t give my daughter an allowance just so she can spend it on books like this from places like–” She cagily glanced about and let her eyes dart about her surroundings.
Deborah faintly smiled at the corner of her lips. Her momentary break of stoicism was brief, though, as she turned to her register to initiate a buyback.
The canine mother leaned into her criticisms further, “I bet you even sell those dreadful ‘Harry Potter’ books.”
The feline store owner gave the secondhand customer a momentary side-eye, but only momentary, as she finished the work to return the book to inventory. She then pulled out the receipt from the dust jacket to initial the paper with a pen. It was at that moment she commented, “Ah’ctually, no. I nevuh cair’d much for a woman whose unduh’standin’ of ma’jick amounted to little more than dreemin’ of joinin’ the gentree’fi’d class.” She slid the money and receipt to the mother and pulled the book to herself.
The poodle snarled up one side of her lip and slid the money into her purse. She turned and immediately stalked off from the counter and for the door.
Languidly, the cat called after her, “G’bye Kah’ren…”
The poodle reached the door, opened it, and then glared over her shoulder, “It’s pronounced ‘Corinne’.”
The stoic shopkeeper peeled her lips back into a broad, toothy Cheshire smile, “O’ cou’se.”
The poodle slammed the door on the way out.
Original story by:
CS_BernardOver-The-RhineCincinnati, OhioUnited States of AmericaTuesday, 11:50 UTC – 04:00, Daylight Saving TimeTHE BLACK CAT rested her elbows on the countertop of her storefront as the poodle briskly entered the building. The canid paused and glared about, almost agog, at the shelves and display cases filled with various New Age and Wicca products and materials. She wrinkled her nose so much that her fangs peeked out from under her lip. The female dog spied the cat and quickly strode up to her.
“Are you the owner?” the canine sniffed.
“That wou’d be me, Deborah Cadwaladr, pro’priut’uh,” the black cat said languidly.
Once she saw the cat’s heterochromia pupils, she reflexively blinked, then resumed her huffy tone, “Yes, well! My daughter came in her and bought this.” With an audible clunk the woman dropped a copy of Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic on the counter.
Deborah tilted her head back, looked down her muzzle, and examined the book and the familiar receipt from her register tucked into the dust jacket. “Mm, aye, I ca’ry a few romance nov’ls.”
The poodle drew her nose back and tilted it downwards, her hackles raised, “‘Romance’ indeed, this sort of thing is satanic.”
The black cat said nary a word, she only tilted her head slightly and flexed the corners of her lips down, as if she tried to be shocked but lacked the energy. She did not even flinch her eyelids.
The canid was miffed to not get some sort of reaction, perhaps a confession, from the shopkeeper. She raised her muzzle up and haughtily demanded, “I want the money back for this… thing. I don’t give my daughter an allowance just so she can spend it on books like this from places like–” She cagily glanced about and let her eyes dart about her surroundings.
Deborah faintly smiled at the corner of her lips. Her momentary break of stoicism was brief, though, as she turned to her register to initiate a buyback.
The canine mother leaned into her criticisms further, “I bet you even sell those dreadful ‘Harry Potter’ books.”
The feline store owner gave the secondhand customer a momentary side-eye, but only momentary, as she finished the work to return the book to inventory. She then pulled out the receipt from the dust jacket to initial the paper with a pen. It was at that moment she commented, “Ah’ctually, no. I nevuh cair’d much for a woman whose unduh’standin’ of ma’jick amounted to little more than dreemin’ of joinin’ the gentree’fi’d class.” She slid the money and receipt to the mother and pulled the book to herself.
The poodle snarled up one side of her lip and slid the money into her purse. She turned and immediately stalked off from the counter and for the door.
Languidly, the cat called after her, “G’bye Kah’ren…”
The poodle reached the door, opened it, and then glared over her shoulder, “It’s pronounced ‘Corinne’.”
The stoic shopkeeper peeled her lips back into a broad, toothy Cheshire smile, “O’ cou’se.”
The poodle slammed the door on the way out.
End
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Feline (Other)
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 93 kB
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