"What's that, Smush?" Mogey queried.
"I'm trying to complete the income tax return for our farm, and I loathe all these lined pages. Why can't I write where I please? A letter here, a letter there, curlycues and whirlaroos, up, down, and all around."
"Well I suppose you could, but then nobody would be able to read it."
"Who cares?" Smush replied. "It's all nonsense anyway. I just make it up as I go along."
"I see," Mogey said. "You say it's our tax return you're working on?"
"Yup."
"We're going to jail, aren't we?"
"We sure are."
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