Papa Mushreeds's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Papa Mushreeds checked the snack stand's coin jar before dawn. Three weeks of fried crickets and bug jerky had earned him enough for maybe one admission ticket to Splashworld. He needed seventeen water slides' worth. The stand needed something bigger. Lily showed up at breakfast holding a bottle she'd fished from the mud near the cattails. The glass caught the morning light just right. The label read "Crocodile Tears" in fancy letters, with a little green crocodile printed underneath. Papa turned it over in his webbed hands. The water inside was perfectly clear. He set it on the stand's counter that afternoon, right next to the jerky. By noon, four travelers had stopped to look at it. By closing, he'd sold more skewers than any Tuesday in a month. He tucked the bottle under the counter for safekeeping and recounted the coins twice. The next morning, Papa built a small shelf on the front of the stand using driftwood and rope. He placed the bottle dead center where the sun would hit it. Then he fried up double his usual batch of crickets. The first traveler arrived before the oil had cooled. She pointed at the bottle, asked where it came from, and bought four skewers while Papa told her about the cattails. Three more stopped before lunch. Papa watched from his lawn chair as Lily rang up another sale, her webbed fingers counting coins like she'd been doing it her whole life. He pulled the Splashworld brochure from his pocket and ran his thumb over the big twisty slide. The jar was getting heavier. By week's end, Papa had hammered together three crocodile-shaped signs from old swamp wood. He planted them along the road leading to the stand, arrows pointing the way. The bottle sat in a spot of honor on the new shelf, and travelers came in pairs now, sometimes groups. They bought jerky to take home. They asked questions about the swamp. One lady ordered eight skewers and told her husband about the wave pool at Splashworld while Papa wrapped them up. He didn't correct her. He just counted her coins and added them to the jar. That night, after the tadpoles were asleep, he spread the money across the kitchen table. Enough for three tickets now. Maybe four if he stretched it. The stand had found its something bigger.