One hazy spring afternoon, Mogey and Smush got into one of the most heated arguments of their long friendship. The pals simply could not agree on what sort of apple trees they should plant in their orchard.
"What about Granny Smith apples?" Smush ventured.
"No way, Jose," Mogey replied. "My Grandpa Smith told me that Granny Smiths were pure evil! I'm partial to a red delicious - what say you to that?"
"Ugh, more like 'red disgusting,'" Smush said. "I know: we could plant some mcintoshes."
"I would rather consume a sandwich made out of cabbage, mayonnaise, and your neck hairs than eat a mcintosh apple," Mogey asserted.
"Well what does it matter?" Smush said finally. "These trees won't have apples on them for a dozen years or more."
"A dozen years?" Mogey demanded. "But that's an eternity! Next thing you're going to tell me that they won't be covered in caramel when we pick them!"
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