This is boredom. It happens when you combine school and me. The product looks like the following.
Disclaimer: I really don't own much of anything. It all belongs to that fabulous man, Brian Jacques.
Pirinny the mole sat on his very favourite of all the old wheelbarrows in Redwall's orchard. He sat there alot. It was what moles did. None of them survived slavery or carried Martin's big, shiny butter kni-sword. It was a sword.
Not food related.
Martin's friend had nothing to do with turnip and tater and beetroot pie.
Pie was the mole's friend. Not swords. Maybe it was because you couldn't dig and choop away at ruthless enemies at the same time. On the other paw, a mole can eat and dig at the same time. He or she might become a tad messy or get dirt in the pie, but it could be done.
A loud yell resounded from the abbey. Oh whoopee, another saviour is found. Good show, Martin, let's have a feast.
Pirinny heaved himself off of his wheelbarrow to see if the cooks needed any help in the kitchen. A mole's job was never done.