The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 608

Smush was doing something very foolish. He had climbed way out to the perilously slender end of a branch midway up their apple tree, and he was reaching out for the plumpest, juiciest apple in the whole orchard. He was only a few tempting inches away, so he inched a bit further and stretched his hand out as far as it would go.

Suddenly Smush felt himself losing his balance, and before he knew it he had tumbled through the air to land flat on his back atop several hard ground apples.

"Smush! Smush!" Mogey cried, running over in a panic. "What have you done? You've squashed half a dozen of our finest cider apples!"

"I'm alright, thanks," Smush said sarcastically as he lifted himself tenderly to his feet.

"Do you know what's not alright? These cider apples," Smush replied, picking one off the ground and biting it dramatically, only to spit it out in disgust. "Don't come crying to ol' Mogey when you can only have one gallon of mulled cider per night this winter, instead of your customary 1.2 gallons."