Aduckwalkeduptothelemonadestand Stories

It was a Tuesday when the duck first appeared. Cliff adjusted his apron and tried not to sweat through his collar. This summer had already broken records. But Cliff was a professional. He didn't complain. He didn't expect customers this early. He just liked being out. The quiet hum of suburbia waking up, the hum of the fridge behind him, the cicadas just beginning their ceaseless sermon-he liked it all. Predictable. Comforting. Until he heard the soft slap-slap-slap of webbed feet. Cliff blinked. There it was. A duck. Bright yellow, almost too clean for a bird that waddled straight out of nowhere. Beady black eyes. Orange bill. It stopped in front of the stand, looked up, and spoke. "Got any grapes?" Cliff stared. "No," he said slowly. "This is a lemonade stand. Want some lemonade?" The duck blinked. Then, without a word, turned around and waddled away. {Disclaimer: This story was generated by ChatGPT}