Harold looked out towards the mountains, where the sun lazily drooped from the sky. Night swept over the land, and in an instant, the last remnants of light had been snuffed.

‘Why-d’ya-think-der-sun-gos’-down?’

Well, Fred, it’s quite simple really,’ said Harold, as he lit a pipe. ‘The sun gets lazy, you see. I mean, you can’t blame it. It’s a pretty demanding job you know. So he goes to sleep now and then, which is why it goes dark.’

Of course, Harold was completely lying. He didn’t have the time or patience to explain to Fred how the earth rotates, and Fred seemed content enough with his answer.

‘Aye-that-makes-sens’,’ the little voice squawked.

‘Come now,’ Harold insisted, ‘we need to carry these materials to the bridge. I don’t want to stay out here all night.’