George smirked and cleared his throat. "Welcome one and all," he said, arms going wide, "to the joke shop of your dreams. Let I, your humble shopowner, be at your personal service." He finished with a little bow.
He folded his arms and leaned back against the shelves behind the counter, directly below the flashing purple and gold urn on the top shelf. "Despite appearances, business is great. I do more owl-order transactions than in person this time of year, so this really isn't a big surprise."