Lost in an Apple Orchard

"Promises and pie crusts are made to be broken." --Jonathan Swift

((OCC: True, that quote really does have nothing to do with what is written, but i liked it anyway. I visited an apple orchard once. It was pretty cool. And I eat an apple for lunch everyday, which helped provide for inspiration for this next part of the story. Its Ruby, by the way, in case you haven't already guessed. And I like pie. Especially apple pie. But cherry pie is better. And lemon meringue pie is good too, but not quite as good as apple or cherry. I also like Creme Brulee. Possibly because I like using a blow torch to burn the sugar on top of it. I could go on like this, but Ill stop and let you get on to the story.))

Myrtle was feeling unfortunate, as usual. In her futile attempt to please her sister, she had already tripped over a large rock, a cat, and twisted her ankle on an uneven cobble stone sticking out in the middle of the road. Then, while she was sitting in the street massaging her unhappy ankle, so mean boys wandering the streets at night threw rocks on her beloved Tranjoster, thinking he was some sort of toothy demon apparition. He had subsequently bolted down the street frightened, going the WRONG WAY, to make everything worse. So Myrtle had to hop up on her hurt ankle and go chasing after her terrified goat. Now she was in expansive unkempt apple orchard , with absolutely no idea where she was or how she had gotten herself out of town and lost so gosh darn fast. Luckily she had found transjoster, and unlike Myrtle, who was now contentedly chomping on an old green apple he had picked off the ground. at least someone was happy. Myrtle personally had no qualms about being lost, but she knew that Vera would be very unhappy with her, and she had lost one of her precious earplugs out of her pocket when she had gone chasing after her goat.

Myrtle sat down and starred glumly about her. The apple orchard looked like it had not been watered or tended too for about a millennium, and the underbrush and tall grass made eerie shadows in the pale moonlight. Myrtle had no clue to where she was. She was just about to give up and go to sleep right then there when she hit upon the obvious course of action. Of course! Why hadn't she thought of it earlier? she was surrounded by trees... all she had to do was climb one and look for the town lights to guide her back! She almost kicked herself for not thinking of it earlier--except for her foot still hurt, so she decided not to.

Up the tree she went, with Transjoter staring incredulously up at her. It was marvelously difficult in a skirt, and her already tattered mud-stained skirt got a little more ragged. Finally she got high enough to poke her head above the highest foliage and look out about the dark landscape. She couldn't see very far past the other tree tops, but she thought she could spot a small yellow light off in the distance to the north. Just then she heard a loud creak under her. A few seconds later the ancient gnarled branch she had been so carefully balanced on gave way, and she tumbled down through the leaves and twigs, through the air, and onto the dense undergrowth bellow.