Once upon a time in the village of Wattlebottom a small boy stood picking his nose. This was actually a rather regular occurrence. Everyday this same small boy stood on the same spot picking the same nose as he stared at the sweet buns glazed with pictures of dragons cooling in the baker’s window.
He pulled his finger from his nose with a wet pop and held it aloft, a glob of green quivering on the end and catching the light in a color not dissimilar from the green frosted dragons that leaped and played upon the buns. The boys eyes danced from dragon to dragon as he imagined what the sticky buns must take like. Then, of course, he popped his finger into his mouth.
The baker watched the boy through the open window. “I see you found the secret ingredient in our frosting,” he called, waving his own finger in the air.
“I knew it!” said the boy, and he shoved another finger up to the knuckle in his nose, looking for more treasure.