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In a cozy little burrow beneath the Great Oak, lived a mole named Montgomery. Montgomery was a very neat mole. His tunnels were swept, his pebble collection was alphabetized, and his mushroom chairs were polished every morning. But his neighbor, a grumpy badger named Beatrice, was not so neat. Her burrow was a tangled mess of roots and forgotten acorns. The problem was, Beatrice was an incredible muffin-maker, and Montgomery loved her muffins.

One morning, the most delicious smell wafted through the tunnels. Montgomery's nose twitched. It was the smell of cinnamon muffins, his favorite! He crept out of his burrow and peeked into Beatrice's. On the table, cooling on a little wire rack, was a plate of freshly baked muffins. Montgomery knew he shouldn't, but his stomach made a decision for him. He darted inside, snatched a muffin, and was about to scamper away when he heard Beatrice’s booming voice. "Who's in my burrow?!"

Montgomery froze, the muffin clutched in his paws. He was too slow. Beatrice’s head poked out from the kitchen, a flour-dusted frown on her face. "Montgomery! Are you stealing my muffins again?"

"I... I just came to admire them," Montgomery stammered, trying to hide the muffin behind his back.

Beatrice sighed. "Oh, Montgomery. You don't have to steal them. You can just ask." She walked over and took the muffin from his trembling paws. Montgomery's heart sank. But instead of scolding him, she broke it in half and handed one piece back. "Now, this is an official Muffin-Muncher's Guild meeting," she said with a wink. "The first rule of the guild is: you must be messy."

She picked up a second muffin and smeared a bit of cinnamon sugar on his nose. Montgomery giggled. He wasn't just a neat mole who liked muffins; he was a messy, official muffin-muncher. And from that day on, Montgomery and Beatrice had muffin-munching meetings every Tuesday. He even learned to leave a little flour on his nose on purpose.