One day around late morning Smush was rummaging around in the kitchen, looking for an egg whisk when he came across an implement of treachery the likes of which he'd never seen before.
"What is this, Mogey?" he bellowed.
"Oh that? Tis a gooseberry bristler," Mogey, who was hard at work scrubbing his statue of Lief Erikson, replied. "You know, for getting those bristles off gooseberries. I bought it at the swap meet Thursday last."
"Why are you talking like that?" Smush asked. "And if this really is a gooseberry bristler, which I very much doubt, how could you leave it lying around when you know full well that our dear friend B'John Pulpeter is coming over this very night?"
"Why?" Mogey said. "Is B'John allergic to gooseberries?"
"Heavens no," Smush answered. "But it is certainly not proper for gooseberries to be about when we're having company....especially not at the height of grape season."
"Hang etiquette," Mogey said. "If it's debristled gooseberries B'John Pulpeter wants, it'll be debristled gooseberries B'John Pulpeter gets."
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