Stop the presses
If you were a chosen kid and in desperate need of a magical what-not to guide you through the turmoil of pubescence, whomp your enemies and maybe teach you a lesson in morals; Kline’s Kuriosities was totally the place to go. Ideally you’d stumble across it when being chased by cruel, two-dimensional bullies, or during a pensive walk—your fists clenched and brave eyes tearing, misting the vision of a brightly painted door. There might be crazy unseasonal fog obscuring the shop that is possibly from the sewers, but you don’t dwell on that because it is gross and this is totally your moment of hope. Point being, Kline’s will appear right when you need it, seemingly out of nowhere, definitely in a place you’d swear there’d never been a shop before. If you had the luck to be one of those privileged little assholes.
