Claude the Crab scuttled across his desk, his claws clicking rhythmically on the wooden surface. Piles of receipts and forms surrounded him, each carefully organized into neat stacks. "Let's see now, deductions for seashell maintenance..." he muttered, peering through his tiny glasses.

Claude adjusted his glasses, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he examined the numbers. "This can't be right," he grumbled, tapping a claw on a stubborn column of figures. With a sigh, he reached for his coffee, the steam curling invitingly into the air.

Just as Claude was about to take a sip, the cup tipped over, sending a cascade of dark liquid spilling over his carefully arranged documents. "Oh no, my deductions!" he exclaimed, his claws flailing in dismay as he tried to salvage the papers.

Claude hurriedly grabbed a towel, his claws working deftly to mop up the mess. "This is a disaster," he lamented, glancing at the stained forms. With a determined nod, he began reorganizing the papers, setting them out to dry in the sun.

Despite the setback, Claude was undeterred. "I'll just have to start over," he resolved, a hint of determination in his voice. He picked up his pen, ready to tackle the numbers once more, the rhythmic sound of the ocean providing a calming backdrop.

Claude leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the newly organized stacks of paper. "Not a bad day's work, all things considered," he mused, a satisfied smile on his face. The beach hut was quiet, the only sound the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.