Lemon Peel’s Lemonade Stand

Everyone raved about the new lemonade stand in the cafeteria at Dragon’s Dungeon Heroes Inc. “But where did it come form?” asked one employee while waiting in line. “Just appeared,” said another.

Lemon Peel, a dragon the size of a dog and as intensely yellow as allowed, sat behind the counter and poured drinks. The menu was simple— tart or sweet, large or small. Each order came in a washable mug to cut down on waste.

“Two please, tart, large,” the CEO of D-D-H-Inc. requested, bewildered by the adorable intruder.

Lemon Peel blinked slowly and happily to indicate understanding and prepared the mugs, handing them over in exchange for a few oddly shaped coins.

“This really is spectacular,” the executive said after tasting the delicious beverage. The dragon flicked its tongue once. “How much will you take for today’s entire lot?” The dragon flicked its tongue again in response and the CEO burst into laughter. “You drive a hard bargain, but done! Everyone! Today’s lemonade is on me!”

The menu was simple— tart or sweet, large or small. Each order came in a washable mug to cut down on waste.

By the end of the week, the tiny dragon was on the company’s board of directors. It sat on the conference table, motionless, as the executives regarded it carefully, occasionally nodding to some unspoken observation. Finally, all the humans burst into laughter. The dragon blinked once happily and moved to a chair, where it silently sat for the rest of the meeting.

The month ended with a lavish party. The CEO gathered everyone’s attention with a repetitive glass-clink-fork-glass-clink, using one of their now trademark mugs. “Thank you, thank you everyone. A scant thirty four days ago, this entrepreneurial dragon invaded our halls… and our hearts. I had half a mind to throw it out, but one taste of that lemonade and I was hooked. We have gone from global rescuers to a full fledged lemonade industrial complex, and we all it all to you, Lemon Peel Sunshine Fizz Helium.” A toast was raised, “To Lemon Peel!” was cried in unison by every human in the room. The tiny dragon squinted happily and flicked its forked tongue.

“Wake up, wake-y wake-y,” Mister Ghost softly shook the tiny yellow dragon, rousing it with an annoyed yowlp. “Time ta get up, kiddo,” the farmer nudged. The dragon uncoiled itself from its perch high in a tree.

Lemon Peel regarded Mister Ghost for a few minutes of silent contemplation before stretching in the warm sun, flapping its wings experimentally, extending each of its four legs to awaken its muscles, then flying off.

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