After considering the fish for far too long (and after being asked if he needed help a fifth time), Peter turned from the ludicrous display of human entitlement and went to find what he'd come here for in the first place.
In the aisle littered with accessories with which to spoil one's cat, another man stood, likely pondering his own purchase. Peter half sneered, half smirked at the stranger, then took a price tag between his fingers and flipped it over.
"What a crock of shit," he stated as though he were speaking of the weather. Over a hundred dollars for something he could make himself for twenty? Did people really pay that much for things like this? A sucker was born every minute.