One morning Smush woke up in mortal terror: his legs weren't working, they weren't working at all. His legs still looked as ruddy and generously apportioned as always but he couldn't feel them or move them even one inch.
"Mogey!" he yelled, in a panic. "Come in here quick!"
"What is it?" Mogey asked as he strode in from making hot cross buns, billowing a cloud of flour dust behind him.
"It's my legs!" Smush cried. "I can't feel them! I think I may have the polio...or that other leg one...what's it called...."
"Paralytic Nobendyitus?" Mogey asked. Smush nodded vigorously. "Don't worry young chap, you don't have Paralytic Nobendyitus. Your legs are just asleep."
"How do you know that?" Smush said.
"Well for one thing, they're snoring," Mogey replied. "Quite loud, I might add. And for another, I came in here and sat on them for twenty minutes while I was tying my shoes."
"You sat on my legs?" Smush demanded. "Why in the world would you do something as outlandish as that?"
"They're warmer than the edge of my bed," Mogey said, shaking his head as though this were the most obvious thing in the world, which it was.
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