Grandpa was in a pickle. His scooter had been stolen. Again.
It was a real doozy this time, with a bent wheel and a missing seat.
He'd had it for years, and it was his pride and joy. Or at least, it was until it was stolen.
He'd given up hope, but then he got a call from an anonymous tipster.
They said it was hidden in a bush, near the old oak tree.
Grandpa rushed out to the bush, his heart full of hope and his legs aching with rage.
And there it was, his beloved scooter, sitting in the bushes, looking all smug and innocent.
Grandpa took it back, and he was never gonna let it go.