When Smush emerged from the barn, he held the ball aloft like a sapphire prized from the crown of an empress who owned several Mazda dealerships.
"Is that--?" Mogey exclaimed.
"I'll stop you right there, Moge-man," Smush interrupted. "I know this looks like it was stolen from the display case at Empress-Mazda-of-Porkborough, but I assure you it's home-grown."
"You mean... your formula?"
"Has finally been perfected," Smush nodded. "Come, let us try it out on the badminton court."
For some reason lost to the annals of history, Mogey and Smush preferred to play badminton on a court made of reinforced concrete. Because of this, the skin of their knees had also been lost to the annals of history, but they also possessed the perfect place to test the world's bounciest ball.
When they reached the court, Smush took one more look at his creation, wound up, and let her rip.
"It's beautiful," Mogey murmured tearfully as the ball sailed upward, becoming a miniscule purple dot against the white of the clouds.
Unfortunately, Smush had neglected to test the ball's ability to withstand a second bounce. In what became known, among local squirrels, as The Day of the Ball, Smush's invention exploded into literally 10,000 pieces on impact, pelting the surrounding fields and trees. The final damage: 956 cracked acorns, 44 bruised tails, 11 sore mouths from accidentally stuffing bouncy ball pieces into cheeks.
"Back to the drawing board," Smush muttered.
"Thank goodness this reinforced concrete was here to break our fall," Mogey added. "Uh oh, Smush, we better skedaddle."
He pointed to the driveway, where a caravan of Mazdas with shattered headlights were pulling in, furiously windshield-wipering bits of bouncy ball. And in the lead? The Empress herself, holding a poison-tipped spear in one hand and a highly-trained skunk in the other.
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