On a journey to Far Off Figgington, Mogey and Smush came upon an old, rickety rope bridge that spanned a gorge deep enough to hold 800,000 killer whales who had just eaten 800,000 other killer whales. The bridge's slats were missing in places, rotten in others, and at some points, blatantly made of such substandard building materials as cloth diapers and hot pocket boxes.
"What say you, Mogey?" Smush said, staring out at the bridge.
"Be not afraid," Mogey replied serenely. "She'll hold us."
"I'm not so sure," said Smush. "It looks awfully rickety out there."
"Be not afraid, Smush," Mogey repeated. "Trust in the map - it told us to come this way."
Without replying, Smush hefted a rock no bigger than a midget's fist and lobbed it toward the middle of the bridge. Issuing no more than a mild creek, all four bridge supports snapped, and the entire contraption plummeted to the depths - slats, ropes, and all.
"It just goes to show that there's truth to that old saying, "Smush said. "Never put too much creedence in a map purchased from a troll wearing overalls."
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