⚡ The Fast Restaurant Rush! ⛽✉ || #animations #stories #art #trending #all #cool #tuff #amazing ✍⭕ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ⛰ Have you ever ordered something at a restaurant, and it came so late? ~~~~~~~~~~~~✌~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~⭐~~~~~~~~~~ ⚡ Well today, thats the theme of the animation! :DDD ~~~~~~~~~~~~⭐~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~✌~~~~~~~~~~ ♿ Follow me to have more follows than you already do ~~~~~~~~~~~~✌~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~⭐~~~~~~~~~~ ✍ Time Created: 3:35 PM, Feb 19 ⏰ Creation Time: 1 day, 3 hours and 25 minutes ⏲ Runtime: 1:15 ▶~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ - ❗Laggy? https://turbowarp.org/1281393999/ - ✌ Drop a ❤ and ⭐! It motivates me :D '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' love and star for free robux1!!11!1 [not scam] /j comment " yeehaw _:D<_ " to confuse people who didnt scroll
First!!!! ⚡ [again] VV~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✍ Fluffing a Duck by Kevin Macleod VV~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ - ✌ Please click that ❤ and ⭐! It motivates me :D VV~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I got my braces removed today :DD ow... I have retainers now D: story with no e: A boy found a gold cup in a humid, dark pond. Local folks said it had magic or luck, so his small hands took it back across a rough, stony hill. Cold wind hit his back, but his mind had no room for worry or a slow path back to his hut; only big, bold thoughts of rich lunch, warm milk, and long naps sat in his brain. His old dog, Bolt, ran along a mossy wall, ran at a bird, and shook mud onto a thin, worn rug by a wood door. "Look, Bolt!" said our kid, holding a bright, sun-lit rim high for a small town to scan. No dust, no rust, and no flaws—just solid gold for a young soul who had nothing but dirt and salt until this odd day. Truth told, a boy with luck usually finds a bad turn, but this kid was smart, quick, and always calm. His small hut sat atop a high cliff. Rain falls on a zinc roof, but no damp air got in. Today, gold was king. Milk in a cup, fat pig on a spit, and warm buns for his dog. No man could say his path was wrong. His mom had no gold, his dad had no land, but our boy had luck now. Night falls, clouds hang low, and lamps burn with soft oil to light a room full of joy. Bolt sat by a hot log and sang a low bark for a world so big and rich. Gold is good, but lunch is boss. Sunlight hits a dusty floor as dawn rolls in. Our boy stands up, grabs his staff, and walks past a low bush to a brook for a splash of cold liquid. His gold cup sits in a cotton sack, hid from any local crook or nosy folk. A birdsong fills a misty morning. Up a crag, past a marsh, and into thick woods of oak and ash. Bolt sniffs a rabbit path, but his boss stays on a road of mud. Goal: find a shop to swap gold for a farm, a cow, and a big barn for a rainy month. Wisdom says: hold your path, avoid a trap, and trust no man with a crown. Walking is tough, but his goal is worth a long trip. His boots hit rock and grit. A hawk soaring high in a cold sky, looking for a snack. Our boy looks at a map drawn in charcoal on a scrap of cloth. It shows a city with high walls and many a shop. Gold is a load, but a good kind of load. His lungs pull in air from a salty marsh. A frog jumps in a ditch, and a bug zips past his chin. A road grows broad as traffic starts to show. A cart with hay rolls past, drawn by a slow ox. A man with a hat nods, but says not a word. Our boy pulls his hood low to mask his youth. A city is no spot for a kid with a bag of gold to look lost. "Stay mostly back," our boy calls to his dog. Bolt walks in a shadow, tail low, following a boy's gait. A wall of brick looms in a bright sun. A guard with a long staff asks for a coin. Our boy pays and slips past a big iron door. Aromas of fish, coal, and oil fill his nostrils. A crowd is loud; folks shout of wool, corn, and salt. It is a world of busy souls, a city of iron and grit. Our boy looks for a shop with a sign of a tool and an anvil. A smith works at a hot coal pit. "Sir," says our boy, "I want a swap." A smith looks up, wiping ash from a brow. This smith looks at a boy, plus a dog, plus a sack. "Gold?" asks a smith in a low, rough talk. Our boy nods and pulls back a bit of cloth. A smith gasps; a cup is bright, bold, and worth a small kingdom. A smith pulls a cloth across a window and locks a door. His hands, thick and strong, pick up a cup. "This is old," says a smith. "King stuff. Gold of a past war." Our boy asks for a farm with a barn. A smith nods. "I know a spot. A lush plot with a pond and a plum bush. I can buy this cup and grant you a scroll of land." Gold swap for land is a good plan. A scroll is brought out, a quill is put in ink. Our boy signs his mark. "Now," says a smith, "Go quick. A sun will soon sink, and night is for ghosts or thugs." A boy picks up a scroll, packs a bag, and runs out a back door. Bolt follows, barking to show joy. A farm is his! No rough mud, no cold hills. Life is built on luck, but uphold by a soul. A word of truth: stay calm, stay kind, and look in a pond for a spark of gold.
