Mr. Pigglesworth and Mr Gimpson

Mr. Pigglesworth sat on a blanket spread over brambles and twigs. The sun was shining, and he had a glass of wine, but didn't look like he was having too much fun. Mr. Gimpson appeared over the far hill. He was having a hard time on his bicycle, (it was one of those old-timey ones with the huge front tire) but he grew larger, and eventually came to a stop, right in front of Mr. Pigglesworth's picnic spot. He didn't so much as dismount, as control his fall from the bicycle's high perch.

Pigglesworth twirled his fingers over his handlebar moustache.
"I say, a fine day for a ride." Gimpson said, wiping away the sweat from his face with a white handkerchief. Wet spots had soaked through his jacket.
"And a fine day for a picnic." Said Pigglesworth, who then lay back on a bush (covered by the blanket) as sort of a pillow. He finished his wine in a huge gulp.
"You might have something there." Said Gimpson.
"No, You might have something there." Said Pigglesworth.
"Well..." Gimpson left the word hanging in the air, as he unbuttoned his jacket, and his shirt, and began wiping sweat from his armpits. "Perhaps you might be interested in a..."
"A what?" Asked Pigglesworth.
"A trade."
"For what?"
"I'll give you my bicycle, and you give me your picnic provisions." Finished Gimpson hopefully.
Pigglesworth got up.
"I say Gimpson, that's a splendid idea. You've got yourself a bargain!" Pigglesworth dropped his empty glass and strode past Gimpson and picked up the bicycle. He deftly mounted the contraption, and took off. A smile cracked his face as he went rushing down the hill. Laughter echoed off the rocks as he dwindled into the distance.
"Wonderful." Said Gimpson, "couldn't have ridden another furlong." He rummaged through Pigglesworth's picnic basket and found the wine bottle, and a nice chunk of cheese. He lay down, took a drink, and ate a bite. While he was chewing, large white clouds drifted by.

They were both much happier.