image [https://i.imgur.com/PrKcrdN.jpeg]

Death leaned over the counter, skeletal fingers tapping in a slow rhythm as two gnomes—stacked one on top of the other—shakily stood before him. The gnome on the bottom wobbled slightly, grunting under the weight of his companion.

"Yes, yes, here it is!" said the top gnome, pushing a large box onto the counter. "We’d like to return this... waffle maker."

Death’s eyes flickered with suspicion. “A waffle maker? Really?”

The gnome on top nodded eagerly. “Yep! Defective, it is! Stopped working after only one use. A shame, really.”

Death leaned closer, his dark cloak billowing ominously behind him. “I don’t usually deal in returns. Not my... business model.”

The gnome on the bottom squirmed. “Erm, well, maybe just this once?” His voice was muffled beneath the weight of his partner's boots.

Death's fingers drummed again, then he reached out with a bony hand, pulling the box closer. “Let’s see this ‘waffle maker,’ shall we?”

The gnomes shared a quick, nervous glance.

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With a flourish far more dramatic than necessary, Death tore off the tape and flipped open the box. Inside, sat no waffle maker. Death pulled out a rock.

Death stared at the rock for a long moment, the silence thickening like a bad joke. Then, slowly, his head swiveled back toward the gnomes.

"Rocks?" His voice echoed with disbelief.

The top gnome forced a grin. “Uh… it’s a new model! Very... rustic. You, uh, cook the waffles on the rocks, you see.”

The bottom gnome piped up weakly, “Stone-cooked waffles, very artisanal, right?”

Death was not amused. His empty gaze fixed on the two. “You think you can trick me with rocks?”

The top gnome’s grin faltered. “Well, uh—"

"Do I look like I was born yesterday?" Death interrupted. “I’ve been here since the dawn of time. I've seen every scam, every ploy, every excuse... and this is your best attempt?”

The gnome on the bottom finally gave in to the shaking of his legs, collapsing onto the floor with a groan, sending the top gnome tumbling down with him.

"We'll, uh, just... take the waffle maker back, then!" The top gnome scrambled to his feet, desperately reaching for the box.

Death held it out of reach with ease. “No, no. This is mine now.”

“But... but it’s just rocks!” the bottom gnome protested, picking himself up and dusting off his hat.

Death’s voice dropped, low and final. “Rocks or not, no refunds.”

The gnomes backed away, their heads bowed in defeat.

“You’ve really outdone yourselves," Death added, almost impressed, “but you’re not the first to try a refund scam, and you won’t be the last.”

As the gnomes slunk out of the shop, Death leaned back and stared at the box of rocks, sighing.

"Stone-cooked waffles..." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Ridiculous."