Working on a Chapter for Mr. Snapples Shop.
Mr. Snapple stood over the table with a very long pair of teeny tiny tongs. His face, what could be seen of it, was enlarged rather alarmingly, by a set of very strong magnifier glasses. Mrs. Snapple often said he left the impression that he was a rather large and curiously dressed frog. Whenever she said it, she would gesture toward her face with a free hand and bulge out her cheeks and eyes in a rather grotesque pantomime that did manage to accurately convey what he looked like currently, (though, one might privately determine that seeing such expression once was quite enough for all that and that it was hardly worthy of a repeat demonstration).
There he stood engrossed so completely, tutting and fretting as he did so, that he completely missed the buzzing of the door-bee. The clocks attempted, ever so discretely to tick-tock a warning, but Mr. Snapple, quite untrained in the language of clocks, wouldn’t have understood them, even if he had been aware of it.