Carl’s version: “I was trotting along, minding my own business when the ground suddenly liquefied. Quicksand! (True, the ground was pink, and pink quicksand is the most rare variety, but it can occur under certain circumstances.) I know the nature of quicksand well—because of my reoccurring dreams about that evil substance. In those dreadful night visions, after stepping in, I sink speedily. I see a branch–just out of reach. I twist and contort my body. With only an instant to spare, I nab the stick. The branch turns into a snake, a poisonous Corgi Eater. From there the situation takes a turn for the worse.
“But I sensed this wasn’t a dream. And so I had a chance to survive—perhaps one in a million—but a chance. I thrashed my legs against the goo, maintaining a tenuous equilibrium. Then the genius part of my brain lit up. If my nose could be trusted, and it could, I had a solution. I gobbled a mouthful of the pink quicksand. (I had to do it.) Yes, it’s sweet. The sugar gave me energy and with a burst I sprang myself free.
“After recovering, I carried out my civic duty, constructing warning signs so that no one else would fall prey to the trap. That’s what happened.”
Bob’s version: “Carl has a sweet tooth that often gets him in trouble.”
Dear reader, I know it will be quite difficult to determine which version is the accurate one. Good luck.