This is too twisted.
"It's for making offerings to your statue, of course," the shopkeeper replied.
That word, "offerings," was even more alarming. Zog's eye twitched.
"You don't know? Every pet shop in the city has a statue of you for offerings now."
"Huh? Why?"
"Of course, it's because..."
Before he could finish, the carriage came to a stop.
Zog opened the carriage window and looked out. The district was somewhat dirty and chaotic, with buildings that hadn't been renovated in years. It shouldn't have been a good place to do business.
But a long line snaked in front of an unremarkable pet shop.
Someone was even walking along the queue handing out numbered tickets. Near the end of the line stood a sign that read, "Today's slots are full."
'They've completely mastered my whole "hunger marketing" schtick.'
The customers emerging from the pet shop were all overjoyed. Some cradled blue cats, others carried cages with fancy rats, and a few even had little yellow birds.
