"I'm ready!" Mogey announced, waltzing through the shop door and removing his sunglasses so swiftly that they flew out of his hand and shattered against the face of a steely-cheeked salesman. But not even the loss of his spectacles could dampen Mogey's spirit. "I've got cash to burn, I'm looking fine as heck, and my toesies need a new pair of duds."
"What'll it be, sir?" asked Jolly B'gong, the shoe store's proprietor.
"Wingtips," Mogey replied. "I've finally saved up enough for my first pair of wingtips."
Jolly B'gong carefully measured Mogey's feet (wearing an industrial clothespin on his nose, for safety) and selected a pair of brown leather shoes that fit better than a pudding raincoat.
"What do you think?" asked B'gong.
"Perfect," Mogey replied. "Just one question: How do you deploy the wings?"
Several hours later, Mogey strode dejectedly into the house. Smush looked up from the anthology of prune whip recipes he was reading.
"Let me guess," he said, "the wing tips didn't turn out to have wings?"
"Worse," Mogey answered. "They were chicken wings."
"So you couldn't fly?"
"I couldn't fly. And I ate them."
"You... what?" Smush asked.
"They were delicious," said Mogey.
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