Mogey strode to the edge of his treetop porch and inhaled the dewy air. This was the life. Jungle noises surrounded him: monkeys chattering, water dripping melodiously, and - somewhere - a very pleased anteater slurping down termites.
Ding!
Mogey turned to see his lift door open and Smush bustle out.
"Sorry I'm late," Smush said, setting down a massive carafe of pass-o-guava juice. "First a toucan flew into my head, A-GAIN, and I was 20 minutes telling him off. Then JuiceBoy Jurgenson was ahead of me at the juicery--"
"That boy does love juice," Mogey agreed.
"Exactly. So that was another quarter-hour. Then I get to the bottom of your tree and guess who's on lift duty?"
"Not Molasses the Sloth!"
"In all his slothy glory," Smush confirmed. "When you're so slow that even the other sloths get impatient with you, it's time to take a good look in the mirror and... you know... pick up the pace a bit."
"Say, what was that noise when the lift reached my floor? My lift doesn't ding."
"I haven't the slightest idea."
"You dinged, didn't you," Mogey said. "I accuse you of dinging!"
"Alright it's true," Smush admitted. "It always seems so pleasant on television when the elevator dings. And speaking of strange noises..."
A howl echoed through the jungle. "
The sounds emanated from a figure swinging toward them, vine to vine. With a final long arc, he propelled himself gracefully across the canopy and onto the porch where Mogey and Smush stood.
"Ello, chaps!" said the man, who wore only a plaid flat cap, a pair of lederhosen, and some high-top work boots.
"Hullo, Fritz," the pals chorused. Fritz Bravado, the cocky cockney, was one of their least favorite neighbors.
"Vine swinging's the only way to travel, innit?"
"I suppose," said Mogey, "but must you scream like Tarman?"
"Tarman?" Fritz scoffed. "I believe you're referring to Tarzan, a personal 'ero of mine?"
"Doesn't he stick to the vines like..." Mogey began, "nevermind. It's not important."
"Much to my chagrin, I believe Mr. Bravado is correct on this one," Smush said. Fritz tipped his cap. "Anyhow, I'd better be off. With Molasses still on lift duty it'll be hours getting down."
"Why not give a vine a try, guv?" Fritz said, offering Smush a thick length of plant runner that stretched into the treetops. "You'll find it exhilarating and very efficient - that's a Fritz Bravado guarantee."
Smush hesitated, but Fritz's pan-European charisma was much too strong. "Why not," said he. Smush gripped the vine securely, took a deep breath, and leapt from Mogey's porch. The vine broke with almost comical immediacy, sending Smush plummeting for the rainforest floor, screeching in terror.
"Now he sounds like Tarman," Fritz commented, peering over the porch railing.
Luckily Smush's fall was cushioned by none other than Molasses the Sloth, who upon having a (rather portly) character fall directly onto his stomach from a great height, woke from his nap, blew Smush the world's slowest raspberry, and went immediately back to sleep.
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