On a hill, by the side of the road, there is an apple tree. It’s not a very large apple tree, but whenever it is winter, it starts to grow grapes at its roots. These grapes are quite small, but they definitely have a big personality. They are kind, caring, gentle… I’m joking. They are grapes. But the apple tree, on the other hand, has sweet and sour apple leaves, which contain a seemingly magical golden hue to them.

These apple leaves are sought by many, however they have never been picked off of the apple tree. Why? Well it’s because the apple tree on the side of the hill is right next to the Motorway, and no one bothers to get out of their car on the Motorway; it’d be too dangerous!

That was until one fateful day. A traveller from an unknown land, who was known by the locals (of the Motorway) as Oslo Mandate, decided to cross the Motorway to reach the apple tree. But by some mysterious, unfortunate and somewhat predictable event, he was ran over.

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No one had ever heard from Oslo since then, probably because he died. His corpse lay on the opposite side of the Motorway to the apple tree, squirrels chewing on his 20, now 17, fingers and toes; foxes peeling his skin off making a suspiciously red doner kebab, and even pigeons, playing football and basketball with his left and right eye, respectively.

Suddenly, the apple tree sent out a bright beam of light all across the motorway and the animals’ picnic area, whilst a lorry holding a massive container of oil on its trailer swerved into the garden area and coated the whole area, and the animals, with its load. Everything went up in flames. The Motorway was closed. Again.