One blustery autumn day Mogey and Smush were upon the Plains of Panalope flying a kite. The wind cut like a curmedgeony dwarf with pail full of sunfish and their homemade kite seemed ready to burst its tether at any moment.
With no warning a man came running toward them across the grass. Mogey and Smush froze with curiosity, for the man was a curious fellow wearing a safari hat, a monocle, and a pair of ladies' trowsers.
With one loud impassioned scream the strange man pulled out his musket and fired a ball up toward the kite. His aim was true and the fragile aircraft disintegrated on impact.
"Yes!" the man cried, leaping to his feet. "I've finally done it!"
"Done what?" Mogey asked angrily, for they'd spent almost forty minutes of perfectly good naptime making the kite.
"I've hit one! I've finally hit the rare long-tailed diamond hawk!" the man yelled, jumping up and down in jubilation.
"That's it," Smush said. "You hold him down, Mogey. I'll go get the tire iron."
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