“Yep. This is exactly what I expected.”

“So my job is to watch people haggle over our broken toaster while Reese threatens old ladies?”

— Dewey’s lemonade stand has evolved into a therapy booth. A neighbor pays him $2 to listen to her complain about her marriage. Dewey offers her a sad-looking cookie. She cries harder.

The sale begins. Chaos unfolds in layers, like a cursed onion.

“Welcome to the real world.” ACT TWO

“It’s a binary calculator. There is no 7. It’s not missing; it’s philosophically opposed.”

Dewey screams, but it sounds happy. Reese yells, “I’LL HANDLE THIS” followed by a crash.