My unicorn got run over by a tractor

So Duke had ended up skipping work, today. Look, he'd been herded into a ridiculous class by a moose when he tried to go in, and after that had decided he could not be assed to deal with however his kitchen staff had chosen to respond to their new island visitors. (Or find out how many ridiculous fraudulent artworks they'd managed to buy from that weird fox guy.) Instead, he'd headed right back to his boat, planning to do nothing more stressful than maybe catch one of the easily dozens of fish who kept hanging out really obviously in the water off the docks, and maybe get some reading in while he was at it.

He found a couple packages waiting for him, along with a note:

Duke, patron of the arts,

Behold! My pieces inspired by your butterflies are at last finished! I worked tirelessly to capture their likenesses for you, and I hope you enjoy them. May they bring bugs further into your heart.

-- Flick, the Anrthopod Artiste

Huh. Well. That . . . dragon lizard thing did good work.

It wasn't long after that that he got a call he'd been waiting for, resulting in a phone number for a licensed therapist who specialized in people dealing with madcap. There was apparently a Dr. Claire in Duke's universe to rival Dr. Linda from Lucifer's.

He leaned back on his bench, feeling rather accomplished for a man playing hooky, and waited for Octavia to get home.

[primarily for one but can also be open! And yes, I totally just opened my copy of Animal Crossing to find Flick's note text. . . .]