"A rotating stage, fog machines, and a live orchestra for Duck Hamlet. Also, one of them insists on method acting and now only responds to 'Lord Quacketh.'"
Ava didn't blink. She was dangerously close to the existential edge, teetering between "lightly amused" and "ready to install a koi-only monarchy." She sipped her espresso, staring into the void like it owed her rent.
"I swear to god," she whispered, "if one more aquatic bird hands me a union demand written in glitter ink, I'm moving to the mountains and starting an alpaca commune."
Zach nodded, unfazed. "The flamingos already sent their RSVP for the Claude-Fifi wedding. They're arriving by party barge. With sparklers."
Ava rubbed her temples. "Did we approve a barge?"
"No, but PomPom barked in Morse code and they took it as clearance."
At that moment, Rita burst through the door, breathless, with a clipboard and a look in her eyes that said she'd seen things.
"Okay," Rita panted, "we have a situation."
