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marcy-mouse-brown · 4 months ago

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Stormwind Street Dogs: First Day

First Day on the Job

Mouse stood in the early morning light, hands on her hips, staring at the flat-packed wooden booth in front of her. It wasn’t much—just a few planks, some nails, and a sign that still read “BEAUS’ BEST BITES" in faded, peeling paint. The old vendor had left in a hurry, and Mouse, ever the opportunist, hopped to it.

“Street food’s a good business,” Granny Barlow once said. “People gotta eat, and they ain’t got time to sit in some tavern for it.”

So here she was. Mouse. A hot dog vendor.

She bent down, picked up the first wooden plank, and got to work.

Step One: The Booth

Setting up was harder than she expected. The frame refused to line up, and she spent a good ten minutes wrestling a stubborn hinge before realizing she had it backward. By the time she got the main structure standing, she was sweaty, covered in sawdust, and grumbling under her breath.

A rat scurried by, pausing to sniff the air.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered. “I got this.”

After a few more attempts (and some impromptu repairs with borrowed nails), the booth finally stood upright. It wobbled a little, but it was standing. That counted.

Step Two: The Cart

The food cart was easier—mostly. It had been hauled in on loan from the Sweet Hearth Bakery, the steel still warm from its last batch of baked goods. Mouse checked the firebox, tested the heat levels, and made sure nothing was leaking. She arranged her supplies—fresh rolls, sausages, toppings—then unrolled the freshly painted sign:

Stormwind Street Dogs Hot Dogs – Fresh & Fast!

It wasn’t fancy, but it was hers.

Step Three: The First Customer

By mid-morning, the streets had filled with the usual crowds—workers on break, merchants setting up, the occasional guard on patrol. Mouse had expected to wait a while before anyone stopped by.

She was wrong.

A man in a well-worn tunic, smelling faintly of hay, wandered up. “What’s all this, then?”

“Hot dogs,” Mouse said, adjusting her apron. “Meat in a roll. Quick bite for folks in a rush.”

The man scratched his chin. “That’s new.”

She shrugged. “New’s good.”

He eyed the steaming sausages, then dug into his pocket. “Alright. One, then.”

Mouse moved fast—bun in hand, sausage nestled in, a dollop of mustard across the top. She handed it over, heart pounding just a little as she took the first coin she’d ever earned from her own booth.

The man took a bite. Chewed. Nodded.

“Not bad,” he said, mouth half-full. “Bit salty.”

Mouse arched an eyebrow. “You want less salt or more?”

“…More.”

She grinned. “Got it.”

Step Four: Keeping Up

Word spread quicker than she expected. By noon, she had a line—dock workers, errand boys, even a noble-looking woman who asked, “Is this sausage locally sourced?” (Mouse explained how she got the meats from a local butcher, and she was pretty sure the meats were from Elwynn farms. She made a note to check in on the supply chain.)

She burned her hand twice, ran out of onions once, and nearly knocked the whole cart over trying to reach a runaway roll. But she kept going, slinging hot dogs, taking coins, and—somewhere along the way—having fun.

By sunset, she was exhausted, grease-stained, and grinning like an idiot.

Step Five: Cleaning Up

As she packed up, a familiar figure leaned against the booth.

Granny Barlow, arms crossed, watching.

“Well?” Mouse asked.

The old woman sniffed the air. “Didn’t burn down, did you?”

“Not yet.”

Granny Barlow smirked. “Good. See you tomorrow.”

Mouse watched her walk off, then looked down at the small pouch of coins she’d earned. Her coins. From her work.

She flipped one in the air, caught it, and tucked it away.

Tomorrow, she’d do it all again.

And maybe—just maybe—she’d start adding her own twist to the recipe.

#world of warcraft #moon guard #rp #stormwind

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