One day Mogey and Smush were hopping from rock to rock along the old east stone wall while the ate fresh prune whip out of cone-shaped paper cups.
"Careful Smush," Mogey warned, as Smush skittered a bit ahead, "you're passing awfully near Farmer Greasington's crabapple orchard."
"So what?" Smush replied. "I ain't afraid of Farmer Greasington...and it's not as though his trees are as ornery as he is."
No sooner had the words left Smush's mouth than a swarm of crabapple applecrabs leapt from the nearest tree and onto Smush. The tiny crabs flooded down Smush's collar, into his hair, and through every one of his buttonholes.
"CRAB ATTAAAACK!" Mogey yelled. He ran toward Smush bellowing and waving about the only thing in the world that crabapple applecrabs are afraid of: prune whip. Smush had long since finished his, but Mogey, thank goodness, was reknowned for his fondness of savoring whips of various kinds.
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