The syrup man was in town. He had every syrup a boy could dream of, from maple to raspberry to cough. Once a year he would come through, peddling his wares, and everyone loved him. Everyone, that is, except for Mogey.
This was a tough time of year for Mogey, and so Smush tried to keep him away from the syrup man as much as possible. But the town was small, and run-ins were inevitable.
And so it came to pass that Mogey and Smush were walking along and they passed the jolly, moustached syrup man trundling his syrup cart. Smush knew there was nothing he could do now.
"Hey, syrup man!" Mogey shouted angrily. The syrup man looked steadily back.
"Hello, Mogey, you look well," was all he said. Mogey snatched the nearest bottle of syrup from the cart: a large jug of molasses.
"My father was a sugar farmer, you scoundrel!" Mogey yelled and he smashed the jug on the ground and stormed off. The syrup man watched sadly as his syrup soaked into the dust like the blood of a dozen eagles.
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