The
name of the town was Appletown,
and it nestled in the Apple Valley,
and the Apple River split and
ran around it like a slender pair
of legs. And, if you could believe
the ramblings of an alcoholic,
ex-mail pilot named Wilbur Filthbore,
the island delta seen from above
resembled nothing less than the
one possessed by Venus.
"You'd be surprised," he
would allow, "how close the
likeness is. Why if you use your
imagination, Apple Hill where
it peeps up out of the trees is
in the perfect spot..." then
he'd drop his voice and whisper
the rest in whoever's ear he was
bending.
Publicly, men laughed and women
blushed when Wilbur told his tale.
Privately, there was a noticeable
increase in the number of trekking
parties to the Apple Cliffs, and
business at Minnie Marble's house
on the side of the hill improved
dramatically.
