Snippet #1887248

@ Cienpher
As you make your way around the overly-large market square, you spot sometime undeniably interesting in the corner of your eye. A small, but undoubtably curious, stall. As you pass a group of individuals who all, for reasons you cannot fathom, bear an strange resemblance to John Wayne, you see a couple of dusty tomes ontop a tiny desk at the stall. Software it is not, but that is not the issue here. The first book is over an inch thick, and has the words "Hoc est totaliter a fictus libro" enscribed on it. The second is around the same size, its title being "Non legitur nobis: sumus bibendum!". Both of these grimoires have embellished covers, the first covered in emerald green, the second in the richest of purples. The seller, one Prof. Mendax, notices you, and states that you, like him, must appreciate the beauty found in the ancient world. "After all," he says to you, "we must all abide by the age-old phrase: 'Bet vis te cognovit legere Latine? Tunc in tali casu nunquam capitur'. But of course, an intelligent young man like yourself would know that, wouldn't you?" He looks at you expectantly. Each book is priced at $70. Mendax, an undoubtably old man, gives an understandable reason for these prices: "I don't have any more than a few years to live. None of my family are particularly interested in the old world. So I'm selling what I can to anyone, so I can find those who might put these ancient tomes to use again. If you are interested in ancient history, particularly the age-old language of Latin itself, then you can go no further than these grimoires. They contain theories by multiple people, all handwritten, pertaining to ancient legends and cultures." He smiles at you, expectant that you will buy his wares. There is no malice in his eyes, no greed in his grin. It is a pure smile for a pure purpose.

@ Nivosity
Candy you wanted, and candy you got. A single large stall, twice the normal size, is laid out before you. Most of the candy is non-descript, but, even in sugary treats, there is something notable to be found. The "Chocolate Bomber", as it is so unimaginatively called, will explode in one's mouth. This originally simple idea is flawed, however, for two distinct reasons. The first being that a "BC" will often blow up at an unfortunate moment, such as when one would bite into it, or when someone would foolishly attempt to swallow one whole, only for it to painfully explode in one's throat, an experience unwanted by all. The second is that the chocolate in question could explode when coming into contact with water. This has a negative effect on aquatic creatures: they will immediately swim away from the area where the explosion occurred, from the tiniest of shrimp to moderately sized sharks. It doesn't help that that Chocolate Bomber residue can actually block the gills of a fish, making it unable to breathe. Rumours abound that the Chocolate Bomber's days are numbered; they could be recalled any day now. This may be the last time any chocolate fan may get to buy it. A ten-pack of Chocolate Bombers costs $5.
Of course, there are non-fatal foodstuffs for sale. Numbskulls, as they are called, are pieces of sour candy, shaped like skulls, which gives the person eating it a numb, tingling feeling. Eating enough Numbskulls at once can have the curious side-effect of inhibiting pain receptors on the body, lessening the effects that an injury would normally have. Sadly, overall fine motor skills are also weakened upon consumption, meaning that one can have trouble performing any physical tasks while subjected to these unique pain-inhibitors. An eight-pack of Numbskulls costs $3.