Once upon a time in the Hundred Acre Wood, Eeyore found himself in yet another gloomy day. The gray clouds loomed overhead, matching his perpetually pessimistic mood. Eeyore was pondering life's futility when he heard a small, pitiful voice interrupt his existential reverie.

A tiny, ragged child, no taller than a honey jar, approached Eeyore and with an innocent yet quivering voice, said, "Excuse me, Mr. Eeyore, I'm ever so hungry, and I need 38 cents for a smackerel of honey." Eeyore, being Eeyore, looked at the child with his classic wistful gaze and responded, "38 cents, you say? Well, I've got about that much enthusiasm left in me, so I suppose you can have it." He handed over the coins, and the child beamed with gratitude.

As the child skipped away to find their honey, Eeyore couldn't help but mumble to himself, "38 cents for a smackerel. What a peculiar currency they use in the Hundred Acre Wood. Not that I have any use for honey, but if they ever start selling clouds or rainstorms, I'd be rich." And so, Eeyore continued his gloomy musings, content in his role as the Hundred Acre Wood's resident cynic, one sarcastic remark at a time.