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Market Stall

"I see you're interested in my pickled onions."

"I wasn't even looking at them! How dare you! Anyway, what do you expect when you're sitting like that? Oh! You mean the ones in the jar? Oh! Ha ha! You cheeky monkey!"

"Not quite, but… we've got some eggs left and we're down to the last few jars of lemon curd and preserves. Anything take your fancy? Other than my pickled onions, of course."

"Hee hee! You are a one! No, no, what I'm really looking for is fresh cantaloupe."

"Melons?"

"They're tucked beneath my jacket where you can't see them! See! Two can play at that game! But yes, cantaloupe melons. I'm making a cake for my niece and she does love cantaloupe melons on top."

"That's… quite bizarre. No, sorry, no melons, cantaloupe or otherwise. Very difficult to get hold of cantaloupe melons when you're a dog."

"On account of the U.N. embargo? Is that still going?"

"Afraid so. One little bloody melon uprising against humans and nobody seems able to forget."

"But you've got lemon curd."

"Well, I've got some friends who are cats. I shouldn't really have it out on the stall – no, not that you saucy minx! – but I haven't been bothered yet."

"Oh, that's a shame. Oh well, best be off."

"Okay, have a good day."

"I will. You too."

"I haven't always been a dog, you know."

"What's that?"

"I said: I haven't always been a dog."

"Really?"

"Really. I used to be a puppy!"

"Oh! You!"

"That's a dog market stallholder joke! You take that with you for free, okay. Good luck with your melons."

"Thank you! And I hope someone deserving gets their hands on your pickled onions too."

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