One frosty December evening, Mogey and Smush were trudging home from the public house after several servings of potted meat, an array of cheese pots, and a couple of pots de creme. As they crested a snow-robed ridge, Mogey spoke:
"What do you suppose they are?" he asked, gazing into the sky.
"The stars?" Smush rejoined, glancing up at the twinkling points of light. "They're the scattered diamonds of Scurvy Biggins, pirate of the sky. Everyone knows that."
"I know, I know," said Mogey. "I remember Mrs. Bomboloni's 3rd grade class as clearly as you do. But sometimes I'm not so sure."
"Well what explanation have you?"
"Maybe this is the potted meat talking," Mogey explained, "but what if they're other suns, just like the sun we see in the daytime, except really really tiny?"
Understanding awakened in Smush's mind the way a bag of drill bits dropped from a rooftop job site might awaken Nap Snoozeman (the world's worst construction worker) from a doze underneath the scaffolding.
"By golly, Mogey, you might have something there!" he exclaimed. "It's pure genius! Just one question though: what was Scurvy Biggins, pirate of the sky, doing with all them mini suns?"
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