Fresh Raspberries

Boblin the goblin bumbled into the market square, arms wrapped around a basket stacked so absurdly high with raspberries it resembled a crimson tower on the verge of collapse. His green skin was streaked with berry juice like war paint, and atop his head flopped a wilted cabbage leaf masquerading as a hat—though it occasionally tried to escape in the breeze like it had second thoughts.

“Fresh raspberries! Sweet, juicy, and absolutely one hundred percent not enchanted to explode if you sneeze!” he hollered, voice cracking with enthusiasm.

The villagers froze mid-step, blinking in shared confusion. A goblin? With berries? Wasn't he supposed to be peddling rotten boots, frog sausages, or questionable slime jars? But instead, here was Boblin—with a basket full of fruit so perfect they practically glowed and hummed. Curious (and mildly concerned), a brave villager finally asked, “What’s your secret?”

Boblin raised a sticky finger, puffed out his chest, and declared with theatrical grandeur,
“Water 'em daily with the tears of a disgruntled squirrel and sprinkle generously with enchanted mud from under the outhouse.” He sniffed like a scholar while everyone else hoped to every god they’d ever heard of, that the last bit was just goblin nonsense.

With a wobble and a squelch, Boblin continued his journey up through the market, calling, “Fresh raspberries! Guaranteed to make your eyebrows dance and your socks sing!” as he vanished around the corner and down the cobbled road toward the outhouse.