“Yes, we sell happiness.” The small, dark haired man behind the counter blinked through thick glasses. “What kind do you want?”
The customer, open mouthed, stared up at the menu on the wall, chalk written in an immaculate hand with colorful flourishes. “There aren’t any prices,” observed the customer.
“Happiness is always worth it. Guaranteed. Take your time. I’ll be over at the other end of the counter if you have any questions.”
Glancing back up and sighed. So many choices. Where’d the clerk disappear to? The place seemed empty. Back to the board. Special Bliss. Happy Thoughts by the dozen. Kind Words. Serendipity Special. What did any of them mean? The embellishment of the menu grew more ornate the higher up the list. Lucky Life. Smile Sampler. Many others; at the top: Eternal Happiness.
“Um,” the customer started.
“Yes?” When did the clerk return.
“What’s in the Fantastic Fun?”
“Fun. And fantastic. You seem more like a Giggling Grin type to me though. Start with something simpler.”