(May 8, 2025)

Creativone took a bite of cookie.

Then spat it out.

What was this atrocity? When someone said they were offering toad-and-dirt cookies, they expected toad-and-dirt cookies, but what was this? Earthworm?

“Not to your taste?” a man at the next table asked.

Creativeone slid them a wary stare. It was never a good day when a stranger spoke to you in the Whistler’s Beard. The café was best suited to silence. And disgusting cookies today, apparently.

“I’m Dez,” the man said. “Mind if I join you?”

“Actually—”

“Good.” Dez slid his chair up to the table. “Because I have a deal to make, my friend. One that’s going to change your life.”