I’ve sold 20 fishing hooks to a tree. Lake won’t stop asking. I said I’d deliver slippers instead, but now the frogs are involved. They’re forming a union. I wasn’t prepared for negotiations.

One of them had a clipboard. I think he’s serious. I nodded. I think I’m part of it now.
There was a vote. I abstained. The moss voted for me. I am union treasurer.
Tom Hanks said "Banana bread is just cake with better PR." No one asked.

Inventory check at 08:00. Seven hooks missing. Lake denies involvement. Tree refuses comment.
Slippers are delayed. Blame supply lines. The ducks offered logistics support. I accepted. Mistake.
The ducks are now running payroll. The frogs are uncomfortable.

A representative of the moss said, "We have concerns about the ducks' accounting methods." No follow-up questions were allowed.
The tree is humming.

I asked the lake to mediate. It blinked. I blinked. It blinked again. I think it understands.
Rain expected tomorrow. We may lose more hooks. Jeremy Clarkson arrived on a bicycle, said "This looks like Belgium," and left. No one else acknowledged it.

After leaving without explanation, Clarkson was seen cycling along the gravel path behind the humming tree. He spoke briefly to a fence post, nodded at a suspicious-looking mushroom, and saluted a broken lawn chair. At one point, he muttered something about "syrup taxes" while swerving around a misplaced tuba.

He passed a group of frogs mid-union chant and shouted, "Try Luxembourg!" before disappearing over the hill. No further sightings. A teabag was later found where he vanished.
However, eyewitnesses claim he exchanged a firm handshake and an unopened Tesla-branded protein bar with Elon Musk near the compost heap. The topic was never disclosed. Elon vanished in a puff of speculative stock value.

As Clarkson continued his silent mission, he encountered a unicorn. Not just any unicorn — this one stood 84 cm tall, wore Crocs, and introduced itself as Gary.
Gary offered Clarkson a map drawn in ketchup on a tortilla. Clarkson studied it for a moment, nodded respectfully, and placed it into his sock. They said nothing else.
The air smelled faintly of pineapple.

Clarkson then attempted to mount a Segway he mistook for a bench. The Segway panicked, accelerated backwards into a bush full of tactical pinecones, and launched him gently into a nearby pond.
There were no witnesses, except the lake. It blinked once. Slowly.
Clarkson was declared legally metaphysical at 14:37.
The map in his sock dissolved on contact with pond water.
The union held a moment of vague acknowledgment.

The end.