Luckily, at the last second, Crumbles regained his balance and centered his weight. He hoped the chef had not heard him. From the tall table leg, he could just make out Checkers behind the pantry. Crumbles had hurt him on the inside, and he wished he had not. But after this mess was all sorted out, he would apologize.
Crumbles finally made it onto the table. He ran as fast as he could towards the fruit basket just as the chef put the next batch of cookies in the oven. Bless those poor cookies. They are in worse shape than they were. They don’t know what a chef is, or that there are monsters lined up at the table called ‘kids’ who would consume them without a second thought.
Crumbles dived into the fruit basket just in time. He hid underneath an apple that was considerably plump, and had been spared from helping to make apple cinnamon cookies, but the kids didn’t like apples, so chocolate chip ones were made instead. As the dad went into the other room, Crumbles noticed that the apple was alive just like him. And was he a talker!
“Hey, I’m Apple Crisp! Or my friends just call me Crisp. You can call me Crisp or Apple Crisp. Or just Apple. I’d rather be called Apple Crisp or Crisp than just plain ‘ol Apple. Anywho, what are you doing in these parts? Only fruits are allowed in here! Well, tomato is allowed here and he is not a fruit, but Juice, he’s an orange, you know, well, Juice says he is. Well, I think so. What’s your name?”
“Well, I’m calling you Crisp, I’m hiding from the chef, a tomato is a fruit, and my name is Crumbles.”