The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 17

 Captain Mogey and Co-pilot Smush cruised through the skies in their biplane, scarves flapping in the wind, old-timey aviator's goggles atop their heads, open cans of corn upon their laps.

"Ah!" Smush announced. "Is anything more satisfying than the thrill of flying an aeroplane while munching these sweet sweet niblets?"

"It's true what they say," Mogey agreed, scarfing down an enormous mouthful. "This is nature's candy."

"I love corn as much as the next airman," said Smush. "Perhaps more. Perhaps more than anyone other than Cornelius 'Pone' Puddin, the corn baron and karaoke legend. But I'm fairly certain no one says that."

Before Mogey could respond, their little plane's engine coughed, sputtered, and died. The propeller slowed to a stop. They glided through the air in a stunned and eerie silence. 

"See if she'll restart, Mogey!" Smush urged his pal. "Turn the hand-crank!"

"I'm cranking as hard as I can! The poor gal's got nothing. This might be it, old boy."

"Need a lift, chums?" called a voice from above. 

Mogey and Smush looked skyward to see a mammoth ear of corn. It was an intricately-painted dirigible, and a man in bib overalls and a bright yellow shirt was leaning out the window of its cabin.

"Cornelius 'Pone' Puddin!" Mogey and Smush shouted in unison.

"As my mama used to say," Puddin hollered back, "'you're righter'n the hand I used to tomahawk-dunk that basketball in your face. And stop crying about it, will you?' Anyways, here's a rope."

Puddin unspooled an anchor line toward Mogey and Smush's biplane. The pals exchanged one glance, but they knew they had no choice but to abandon ship. Carefully, they began their ascent to the housing slung below Corn Pone's blimp. 

No sooner had he hauled them aboard than Puddin thrust microphones into Mogey's and Smush's hands. "I sure hope you boys know the Cher parts of I Got You Babe," he said as the opening chords started up. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 16

 As Mogey and Smush strode toward Eggs Eggs Eggs: Eggceptional Eggs That'll Make You Begg for their weekly supply of butter and cream, they passed a magician plying his trade in the village square. 

Smush smirked. He loved messing with magicians, and considered himself quite the sleight-of-hand illusionist in his own right. "Greetings," he greeted the would-be sorcerer as he shouldered his way to the front of the crowd.

"Greetings, my good fellows. Fergus Munks, at your service," said the magician, removing his top hat with one hand and fanning a deck of cards with the other. "Now if you'd be so kind: Pick a card, any card."

Smush's smirk increased. Card magic was one of his specialties, and he carried at least three decks with him at all times, including one that exactly matched the deck Fergus Munks was using. Smush selected a card, but surreptitiously swapped it for a gag card: the "Queen of Turnips."

"Show it to your fellow citizens, if you please," said Fergus.

Smush did so, giving the assemblage a knowing wink to let them know they were all in on his practical joke. 

"By golly, Smush," Mogey whispered, "you're entirely too much." 

"Now then," Fergus Munks continued, "what is the suit of your chosen card? Is it hearts? Clubs? Spades? Or perhaps... turnips?"

The crowd gasped. Smush gasped. Mogey burped, but tried to pass it off as a gasp. 

"And since you seem to enjoy turnips so much, I've done you a favor," Fergus stated. "Check the other decks in your pockets."

Smush removed one deck of cards after another: Every last card he carried was now in the suit of turnips. "Mogey, I'm frightened," he said.

Fergus put his arm around Smush, pulling even more turnip cards from Smush's shirtsleeves, his breast pocket, the lobster bib he was still wearing from lunch. "Think twice," the magician muttered under his breath, "before you try to mess with one Fergus Munks."

"Unhand me, you cad!" Smush shouted.

"Ah, but were my hands ever on you at all?" Fergus asked, loud enough for the crowd to hear this time. "Take a look!" 

Smush glanced at his left shoulder, but where he thought he'd felt Fergus's hand, a bag of fresh turnips now rested. Smush shrieked, whacked at the turnips like they were live spiders, and ran from village square.

Mogey leveled his finger at the magician. "Making Smush look a fool was one thing," he admonished, "but exposing him to so many vegetables? That crossed the line, sir."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 15

 "Well," said Mogey, "where shall we start?"

The pals stood before the fallen remains of Pop Lardo, the oldest and widest tree in the district. Pop had fallen prey to the pepperoni weevil, an invasive insect made all the more destructive by the fact that its bore-holes smelled like fresh-baked pizza (and thus people were reluctant to exterminate them). Now Mogey and Smush would be tasked with clearing the enormous quantity of felled timber from their property.

"Tell you what," Smush replied, "you take the left half and I'll take the right. I guarantee my half will be cut, chopped, and stacked before yours." 

"You're on!" Mogey shouted, hefting an axe and scampering to Pop Lardo's left, where the mighty tree's root system now extended eerily sideways, an alien spaghetti of wood hanging above a yawning hole of fresh earth. 

Mogey got to work immediately, his axe ringing out through the countryside as he hacked at Pop Lardo's carcass. He didn't stop, nor even look up, until the sun had touched the horizon and he'd sweat through (and removed) four separate shirts. Despite all that work, he'd scarcely made a dent: Mogey had removed one of Pop Lardo's larger roots, but only one. 

He walked around to the tree's other side to see how Smush was faring. As he saw his pal's progress, Mogey's jaw dropped. His trousers dropped. (To be fair, his trousers were weighed down by several gallons of sweat, and unlike shirts, he hadn't brought any backups.)

"How in the world have you done this?" Mogey demanded, hurriedly hauling his trousers back to their designated location. 

Smush sat in a plaid lawn chair, an icey, umbrella-bedecked drink in hand, paging through the latest issue of AARP: The Magazine. An entire half of Pop Lardo - dozens and dozens of cords of firewood - stood neatly stacked nearby.

"The weevils," Smush said with a cackle. "No one is better at dismantling lumber, and their chief owes me a favor." 

"I've got to hand it to you, Smushly. This time you've outdone-- wait, what favor?"

"Oh I gave him directions the other day. He and his friends were looking for... they were looking for a..."

"Yes?" Mogey queried.

"I believe their exact request," Smush stammered, "was 'A nice juicy tree. Ideally one so big that it has a name.'"

"Pop Lardo!" Mogey exclaimed. "Smush, you blunderbuss: you've betrayed us!"

"Nay!" Smush countered, though his face flushed scarlet with shame. Mogey and Smush's language always became more old-fashioned in times of turmoil. "It was I who was betrayed! By Boss Stromboli, the chief pepperoni weevil!" Smush pointed at a tiny six-legged insect in a hard hat, who stood atop one of the new firewood stacks. 

"And I'd do it again, too!" Boss Stromboli cackled in his impossibly high voice. He rubbed his thorax with satisfaction. "Your tree was most succulent. Most succulent indeed!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 14

Mogey and Smush stood together on the highest branch of the tallest tree on the most precarious cliff of the most whimsical mountain in all the Hoemonthaw Range. The wind rushed upward across the rock faces, blowing Mogey and Smush's hair back nearly past their jowls.

"Today," Smush announced, "we fly!"

"But how?" Mogey inquired.

"All our days we've lived earthbound, but dreamt of the skies. Today that all changes!"

"Oh we've dreamt alright. Dreamt galore. Oftentimes you'll stumble into my chambers in your nightclothes, muttering about how you dreamt of flying. And then I'll be like 'No way! I dreamt about flying too!' But again I ask: how?"

Smush reached a hand out into the void. "It's all about reading The Wind," he said dreamily, "and confidence."

"I am no aeronaut," Mogey replied, "but I'm quite certain that's not accurate."

"No, it is," called their guide, Mitch Floatley, from the hot air balloon that hovered nearby. The ballooner stared through a pair of leather aviation goggles and gave them an unmistakable "get on with it" gesture.

"It's time," Smush exclaimed, and he leapt from the limb.

"NO!" Mogey shouted as his pal plummeted earthward from their impossible height. "I can't believe it. He's gone!"

"Hmph," mumbled Mitch Floatley, looking vaguely disappointed.

Suddenly Smush reappeared, balancing awkwardly upon the back of a very put-out looking buzzard. 

"What'd I tell you!" Smush shouted gleefully. "It's all about reading The Wind. Meet Bertie 'The Wind' Buckley, the world's only boxing condor. He's a mediocre boxer, but his wingspan is upwards of 10 feet!" 

"Reading my flight pattern might've helped you land on my back," panted Buckley, "but it's because of your doggone confidence that I allow you to stay."

"That's right!" Smush agreed. "I believed in myself. And more importantly, I believed in you, The Wind."

Despite looking exhausted from the effort of carrying Smush, Bertie "The Wind" Buckley gave a very un-condor-like purr of delight.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 13

One afternoon, Mogey encountered Smush in the upstairs hallway just as his pal emerged from the lavatory, draped in towels and wearing a contented expression. 

"Ah!" said Smush. "There's nothing like a bath to start the day off right."

"It's 1:30!" Mogey exclaimed. "Isn't that a bit early for talk of baths and starting days?"

"I just feel so invigorated!"

"Oh, I hear you. The way Miguel scrubs your toesies leaves one feeling ready to take on the world."

Smush considered this statement for a long and silent moment. "Miguel?" he queried at last.

"Of course," Mogey said, noticing Smush's confusion. "Don't tell me you've never bothered to learn our bathtub sprite's name? That's a bad look, Smushmeister. He cleans your feet and you don't even honor his moniker?"

"Bathtub sprite?" Smush sputtered. "What in the world are you on about? We don't have any bathtub sprite. That tub cleans your feet automatically... doesn't it?"

Mogey glanced over Smush's shoulder and into the bathroom, where a tiny, silver-scaled man with webbed fingers was peeking over the side of the clawfoot tub. He looked sadder than a schoolboy who has just learned that the dark chocoate-covered peanut he popped into his mouth was in fact a black olive.

"I've never been so insulted in my LIFE!" shouted Miguel, and he dove down the tub drain with an almighty splash. 

"Now you've done it," Mogey said. "The only way Miguel is going to wash our toes now is if you buy him some rubies. Or some beans."

"Well, which one is it?" Smush asked. 

"I can't remember. I know bathtub sprites like one or the other."

"Goooo with rubiessssss," echoed Miguel's voice through the pipes. 

 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 12

 "I'd like to announce my new year's resolution," Mogey proclaimed.

"It's practically April!" Smush sputtered, cheesing raspberry gelatin all over his whiskers. 

Mogey pondered for a long moment. Then another. After a third moment had passed, he held a finger in the air and opened his mouth, then reconsidered and crossed his arms with a pensive frown. Finally, he spoke. "The delay is a perfect fit for my resolution, as a matter of fact. This year, I've decided to take things slow." 

"What?" Smush exclaimed, cheesing lime gelatin into the raspberry gelatin in his whiskers. "Surely you mean 'slower?'"

"Lampoon me all you want," Mogey said confidently, "but I've discovered an ideology that truly speaks to me. Meet my new guru, Stag Nantwater." 

Through the doorway plodded a bespectacled turtle, his shell adorned with an If you think this is slow, wait until I go uphill bumper sticker.

"Greetings," Smush said to the terrapin.

"What's the hurry, young fellow?" Stag Nantwater replied. 

"No hurry, my good reptile. Just being cordial. According to Mogey, you've got quite the life philosophy?"

"That's right," Mogey agreed. "Tell him, Stag!"

The turtle carefully considered this request. "What's the hurry, young fellow?" he said at last. 

Mogey and Smush exchanged glances. "Erm," Mogey mumbled. 

Stag Nantwater held up a knobbly flipper and extended a single claw toward Smush. "What's the hurry, young fellow?" he asked. 

"I'm going to get some orange gelatin," Smush replied. "Because the first time you say something other than 'what's the hurry, young fellow,' I'll be so surprised that I'll need a whole new flavor to cheese onto my whiskers."

"Excuse me!" Mogey declared. "Smush!"

"Yes?" Smush asked.

"Grab me one?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 11

"You know, Smush," Mogey said, throwing a Butterfinger Mini high into the air and catching it in his mouth with a satisfying crunch, "there's something I've always wanted to ask you."

"Shoot," replied Smush, pointing to his mouth in what was an unmistakable, universal gesture for "toss me one of them Butterfinger Minis." 

"Are you sure? It's a bit personal."

"Fire away," Smush confirmed. "I'm an olden book."

"You mean an open book?" 

"That too," Smush mumbled, still distracted by the fact that he'd yet to be lobbed a Butterfinger Mini.

"Alright," rejoined Mogey, "here it is. What is your favorite saint's feast day?"

"Feasht 'ay?" Smush inquired around the Butterfinger Mini Mogey had finally chucked his way.

"Exactly. Like St. Patrick's Day, or St. Valentine's Day, or the Feast of St. Hubert. You know, the classics!"

"Ah, I see," Smush replied. "Well that's an easy one: St. Smush's Day is my favorite feast."

"St. Smush's Day?" Mogey exclaimed. "I never heard of that."

"Well, it hasn't officially been invented yet. But there'll be a St. Smush's Day. You can bet your britches on that, buddy boy. And I've got big plans for it, too. St. Patrick's got shamrocks? St. Smush will have actual rocks. St. Valentine's Day has candy hearts? St. Smush's Day will have rock candy. Are you noticing a theme here?"

"Rocks?"

"Precisely!" said Smush. "Because St. Smush's Day..." Smush paused expectantly.

"Is fun for the whole family?" Mogey suggested.

"Close enough," Smush agreed, clapping his pal on the shoulder. "And I'll tell you something else: Bung me another of those Butterfinger Minis and we'll be well on our way to a St. Mogey's Day too."

 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 10

 "Nope, nothing quite classes up a gentleman's garb like a necktie," Mogey announced as he strutted into the drawing room, thumbs tucked beneath his suspenders.

"Ordinarily I'd agree," Smush replied, "but that is the most loathsome tie I've seen since Skunkles McGinty gave away free 'scratch 'n sniff' bow ties for his fish cannery booth at the career fair."

"My friend," Mogey said, clapping Smush on the shoulder and holding the tie up to the light, "this is a Charlotte Aubert."

"I wouldn't care if it was a Chocolate Eclair - you couldn't pay me to wear that tie."

"But... but... "

"I would rather wear a live eel tied about my neck. Speaking of which, I've been craving jellied eels. Fancy a trip to the pie house?"

"But I got a second tie just for you," Mogey murmured sadly, proffering a finely wrapped box. "A genuine Charlotte Aubert..."

"Oh thank heavens!" Smush exclaimed. "If I had to see you wearing that tie a few moments longer I would've simply expired from jealousy. Best of all, it'll go perfectly with my jellied eel jacket!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 9

 Mogey and Smush were strict adherents to a scientific method. It was not THE scientific method, of course (neither Mogey nor Smush had the patience for random control trials, formulating hypotheses, or even taking marginally good notes), but it was a method in the sense that it was a way of doing something, and it was scientific in the sense that they often wore lab coats.

On a day so steamy that medical professionals were advising the elderly and infirmed to step into the sauna to cool off, Mogey and Smush's scientific method was put to the test with a revolutionary experiment.

"Do you have the device?" Smush asked, wiping sweat from his brow with a broadsheet newspaper.

"I do," Mogey replied solemnly. He held up a wooden spinning top and readjusted the sodden handkerchief around his neck.

"And is the rotator prepared?"

"Indeed," Mogey confirmed, gripping the handle of the merry-go-round.

"Let the experiment commence!" Smush announced. He shook out the front of his shirt to circulate some air to his stifled tummyparts.

Carefully, Mogey set the top spinning in the center of the carousel, then gave the circular platform a hard shove in the opposite direction. The pals watched as the two concentric contraptions revolved in the oppressive humidity.

"Report on your key observations," Smush ordered once the top and merry-go-round had both stopped spinning.

"I now have a craving for rotisserie chicken," Mogey replied with utter sincerity. "Cold rotisserie chicken. And perhaps a hand-spun milkshake?"

"I concur. Scientific method concluded. Boston Market here we come!"

"What is it about the scientific method that makes every experiment conclude at Boston Market?"

"That, Mogey," Smush said, clapping his pal damply on the back, "is a question that the scientists who come after us - indeed, the scientists who stand upon our shoulders - will need to answer. The important thing is that we've lit the fires of curiosity for future generations. AND we've lit the fires of the rotisserie chicken experts: Boston Market."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 8

 "By King Midas's freshly trimmed moustache!" Smush exclaimed. "Is it just me, or has your nose gotten bigger?"

"Thank you for noticing," Mogey replied, blushing ever so slightly. "I've been breathing only through my mouth for the last six months, and I think it's really paying off. My smeller has swollen up enough that I think I could really be in the running for Snout of the Season this year."

"Frontier Teen's most frivolous and prestigious accolade? Have you forgotten about Mergle the Schnozz?"

"Of course not," Mogey replied mournfully. "His beak has been named Snout of the Season for eight years running. But don't you think I have a chance?"

"Ordinarily I'd say yes," Smush rejoined, "but rumor has it Mergle has a brand new wart on his nozzle. It's even more bulbous than it was the first half of his legendary career. The man's got an eggplant between his eyes."

Mogey threw himself to the ground, howling like an old-timey business tycoon when not one candidate named Chauncey showed up for his chauffeur job interviews.

"Of course..." said Smush.

"Yes?" Mogey inquired, picking his face off the ground and a Swedish fish out of his hair. The tone Smush had used could mean one thing and one thing only: he was contemplating some devilment.

"Well, we could always... shall we say... tip the scales in your favor."

"How?" 

"I know a certain hornet named Bumble Babineaux," Smush explained. "He's always looking to help a friend out of a jam but also he actively enjoys stinging people. A couple of quick jabs to the honker and your nose'll be twice the size of Mergle the Schnozz's. You're happy, Bumble Babineaux is happy, bada bing, bada beeson, you're Snout of the Season."

"Is he the one I always see buzzing around anytime we try to have a picnic or enjoy a glass of crystal light on the porch?" Mogey asked. "He's always seemed more menacing than helpful. And wouldn't this be cheating?"

"Trust me," Smush assured him. "Bumble Babineaux is very discreet."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 7

 Everyone knows about the glory of an epic quest: The adventure, the excitement, the dragons to be conquered and the conchs to be draggin' (through a ramekin of Grizztopher Grizzle's Bearly Bearable Hot'n'Sassy Cocktail Sauce). But there is another side of every quest. The side only questers themselves will ever truly understand. The side of blistered feet and B.O., beans for breakfast and burnt beef jerky.

Thus it was for Mogey and Smush, who hauled themselves into the castle town of Highmutton more dead than alive.

"I can't do it," Smush cried, falling to the street in a dust cloud of his own making. "You'll have to go on without me."

"Ok," said Mogey, stumbling forward.

"No, wait!" Smush exclaimed. "What kind of a quester are you? Do you want your great grandchildren to sing songs of how you abandoned your best pal in his darkest hour?"

"I don't care what songs they sing. If I don't get to that candy, I'm going to expire on the spot!"

For Mogey and Smush's questination was that famed candy shop known as Sugar Kane's, where the Bubble Tape was seven feet long and "fun size" meant the same thing as "king size" (which was really "party size").

"Please, Mogey," Smush begged, holding out a bean-slicked hand.

"You're right," Mogey said, turning back. "Either we get to Sugar Kane's together, or we don't get there at all. And let me tell you something that's surer than a dad saying 'boing' the first time he jumps on a trampoline: We will reach that candy shop."

Mogey kept his promise, and that night the pals slept under the stars, with chocolate in their mouths, marshmallows for pillows, and blankets fashioned from the crinkliest candy wrappers. It was a terrible night's sleep. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 6

 In their younger days, Mogey and Smush moved to The Big City to seek their fortunes. It was a far cry from growing up on the same row of sod houses in the village of Burping Fens to becoming roommates in a ramshackle tenement run by Gretchen "Big Mama" Ponk.

"What do you think you're doing?" Smush inquired as Mogey began to set up a small army cot in their meager chambers.

"Getting ready to catch 40 winks, you old bean," Mogey replied.

"Surely you jest. I require the comfortable bed tonight."

"No no no," Mogey tsked. "Tonight is my night on the cot. I took the lazy susan last night, and - might I add - you saw fit to wake me at half past two in the morning!"

"I was hankering for some raisin bran!" said Smush. "You know how it is when you have a raisin bran hankering."

"You get a raisin bran hankering at least once per night! Yet every time I suggest finding another place to keep our bran-based cereals, you insist on returning them to the lazy susan."

"Be that as it may, you know I've got a job interview with the fishmonger's guild tomorrow. How can I seek my fortune without a good night's sleep?"

"You and your bran can get a good night's sleep in the lazy susan," Mogey insisted. "We've got bigger problems. Big Mama Ponk told me the building has... gulp... pipe serpents."

"Ugh!" said Smush. "No way. We would've seen them. Oy! Hissy. Hissy!"

A green-brown snake - the titular Gustav "Hissy" Fitz - poked his head out of the kitchen sink. 

"Yes, cap'n?" said Fitz.

"You haven't seen any serpents in your travels around the pipes, have you?"

"Uhhhhh," said Hissy Fitz, somewhat disbelievingly, "no?"

"There you have it," Smush stated. "Big Mama is just looking to tack more expenses onto our rent. Last month it was that absurd construction of 'fire escapes,' this month it'll be pipe serpent removal. Keep an eye out for any serpentine activity though, will you, Hissy?"

"Aye aye," said Hissy Fitz, delivering a perfect hand-to-head salute with his tail before vanishing down the drainpipe.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 5

 "Are you sure you've got the list?" asked Smush as his pal pulled on waterproof overtrousers and a pair of wellington boots. 

"Yes, yes, I've got the list," Mogey muttered.

"Don't be so glib!" Smush chastised. "Last time you went to market in the rain, you were supposed to procure all the ingredients for duck a l'orange and instead you came back with two packets of duck sauce, a tangelo, and a live pheasant."

"And what a pleasant addition Twizzles Ramirez has made to our lives!" Mogey retorted, reaching over Smush's shoulder to the pheasant's perch to give the bird a fist bump.

"Be that as it may, I would like to see the list."

"You can't be serious..."

"Produce the list, sir!"

"Alright," Mogey conceded, retrieving a crumpled roll of parchment from his breast pocket. "Potatoes, bacon, pickles, sugar, tea, thick-cut bacon, mustard, butter, pork roll, flour, onions, salt pork, and ground beef. I don't know how you eat that stuff, by the way."

"Thank you," said Smush. "Wait, what?"

"Ground beef," Mogey explained, "I know it's cheaper, but you really eat the beef they dropped on the ground? What price do you put on your dignity, my good fellow?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 4

 "Nobody move!" shouted Constable Smush, as he barred the huge and ancient timber doors.

"A crime has been committed here tonight," added Inspector Mogey, "and the perpetrator is in this room."

The crowd of dinner guests gasped. Hammingham's elite had expected intrigue at a gala held by the reclusive Baron Bear Bearsley, to be sure. Games of chance, slam poetry, obscure mollusks served both raw and deep fried, but a police investigation? That was a surprise. 

"This criminal is an odd one," Smush continued, relishing the rapt attention of the partygoers. "He clearly wants to be caught."

"The fiend has left us a clue," Mogey said. He held a scroll up to the light, which earned another gasp. 

"What was the crime, good officers?" called a voice from the crowd. 

"Murder," growled Smush. A well-dressed gentlesquatch fainted, rattling the dishes. 

"...of a great piece of artwork," Mogey added. "The scoundrel drew an unattractive moustache on the portrait of Baron Bear Bearsley's ancestor, Baron Randy Bearsley."

"And now for the clue," Smush intoned. Mogey held the scroll for his pal to read aloud. "If you want to solve this cursory crime, look to the classical nursery rhyme: The butcher, the baker, the... that's all it says." Smush concluded, looking up.

"Well I think we all know who the perpetrator is," said Mogey, sweeping a pointed finger across the crowd until it landed on one particular guest. "Jacques-Pierre!" 

"Quoi?" said Jacques-Pierre. 

"Of course!" Smush agreed. "The butcher, the baker, the french canadian bodybuilder. Apprehend that man!"

If one listened carefully during the hubbub that ensued, one could hear a sinister laugh echoing through the hall - sinister, and yet just a bit disappointed - as Waxy Greg, the dastardly chandler, capped his sharpie and slunk away into the night.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 3

 "Thanks ever so much for allowing me to accompany you for a day of field work, my dear Smush," said Mogey. "Or should I call you Dr. Smush?"

"You should not," replied Smush without looking up from his magnifying glass, "I have a 90-day certificate in entomology from the University of Phoenix Online. I'm just barely a doctor." 

"Right-o," Mogey agreed. "Well it's a lovely day for vermeology, anyway."

"Mmm," said Smush, still hunched over the sandy ground. 

What dapper young gentlemen! squeaked a tiny voice. 

Smush popped up from his crouch like a prairie dog who'd sat on a hot buttered biscuit and he scurried toward the sound.

"What have you got, Smush?" Mogey queried breathlessly. "What have you found?"

Come this way - I can't wait to meet you.

"I think it might be... it is!" Smush exclaimed, skidding to a halt. "Look, Mogey: A rare Simkin's Honesty Worm."

Mogey gazed through the magnifying glass at what looked like an ordinary earthworm.

May I have the name of your barber? That is some head of hair you've got.

"Wait a minute... wait just a minute," Smush announced. "This is even more exciting. Those ridges on his abdomen are horizontal - that means he's a much rarer specimen: The Simkin's Liar-Chomper."

"Honesty Worm seems more likely," Mogey said. "We are dapper. Although what a worm wants with a barber is beyond--"

CHOMP!

"OWOOOOOOOOO!" Mogey howled, dancing around clutching his throbbing toe. "That worm chomped me!"

"Yep," murmured Smush dreamily, "that Simkin was unrivaled when it came to discovering talking worms."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 2

 Mogey strode to the edge of his treetop porch and inhaled the dewy air. This was the life. Jungle noises surrounded him: monkeys chattering, water dripping melodiously, and - somewhere - a very pleased anteater slurping down termites. 

Ding!

Mogey turned to see his lift door open and Smush bustle out. 

"Sorry I'm late," Smush said, setting down a massive carafe of pass-o-guava juice. "First a toucan flew into my head, A-GAIN, and I was 20 minutes telling him off. Then JuiceBoy Jurgenson was ahead of me at the juicery--"

"That boy does love juice," Mogey agreed.

"Exactly. So that was another quarter-hour. Then I get to the bottom of your tree and guess who's on lift duty?"

"Not Molasses the Sloth!"

"In all his slothy glory," Smush confirmed. "When you're so slow that even the other sloths get impatient with you, it's time to take a good look in the mirror and... you know... pick up the pace a bit."

"Say, what was that noise when the lift reached my floor? My lift doesn't ding."

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"You dinged, didn't you," Mogey said. "I accuse you of dinging!"

"Alright it's true," Smush admitted. "It always seems so pleasant on television when the elevator dings. And speaking of strange noises..."

A howl echoed through the jungle. "AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!"

The sounds emanated from a figure swinging toward them, vine to vine. With a final long arc, he propelled himself gracefully across the canopy and onto the porch where Mogey and Smush stood.

"Ello, chaps!" said the man, who wore only a plaid flat cap, a pair of lederhosen, and some high-top work boots.

"Hullo, Fritz," the pals chorused. Fritz Bravado, the cocky cockney, was one of their least favorite neighbors. 

"Vine swinging's the only way to travel, innit?"

"I suppose," said Mogey, "but must you scream like Tarman?"

"Tarman?" Fritz scoffed. "I believe you're referring to Tarzan, a personal 'ero of mine?"

"Doesn't he stick to the vines like..." Mogey began, "nevermind. It's not important."

"Much to my chagrin, I believe Mr. Bravado is correct on this one," Smush said. Fritz tipped his cap. "Anyhow, I'd better be off. With Molasses still on lift duty it'll be hours getting down."

"Why not give a vine a try, guv?" Fritz said, offering Smush a thick length of plant runner that stretched into the treetops. "You'll find it exhilarating and very efficient - that's a Fritz Bravado guarantee."

Smush hesitated, but Fritz's pan-European charisma was much too strong. "Why not," said he. Smush gripped the vine securely, took a deep breath, and leapt from Mogey's porch. The vine broke with almost comical immediacy, sending Smush plummeting for the rainforest floor, screeching in terror.

"Now he sounds like Tarman," Fritz commented, peering over the porch railing.

Luckily Smush's fall was cushioned by none other than Molasses the Sloth, who upon having a (rather portly) character fall directly onto his stomach from a great height, woke from his nap, blew Smush the world's slowest raspberry, and went immediately back to sleep. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 1

On a foggy morning, Mogey and Smush stopped into the Mud n' Stuff for a couple hot cups of terrible coffee and, of course, some stuff. 

As Mogey reached out for one of the more appetizing pieces of stuff (the last remaining jelly donut), his fingers collided with someone else's hand. Where Mogey's was stubby and supple with signs of cupcake icing beneath the fingernails, this other hand was massive, hairy, and covered with skull tattoos. 

"Are you flirting with me?" Mogey inquired (though his surprise didn't stop him from seizing the donut). 

"No sir," said the hand's owner, a man so large he appeared to consist of two oxen standing under a trenchcoat, "but I sure do want that donut."

"This donut?" Mogey replied, aghast. "But it's mine."

"I believe I have claim to it. Tell you what though: I'll rassle yeh for it, fair and square."

"Are you sure you're not flirting with me?"

"Quite sure." 

"Why would I rassle someone your size?" Mogey demanded. "You'd pin me faster than a snake wriggles out of a bowl of spaghetti belonging to Coco Drillo, the Italian crocodile."

"What about my son?" said the beastly donut lover. He pointed across the Mud n' Stuff to an (admittedly large) baby carriage.

"Do it, Mogey," Smush whispered in his pal's ear.

"Have you been here the whole time?" asked Mogey.

"Do it," Smush said, ignoring him. "Surely you can beat anyone in a baby carriage at rasslin'."

"Fine," Mogey agreed. "Bring on your son. The stakes: One Mud n' Stuff raspberry fritter."

Just then, an arm dangled out over the side of the pram. While ensconced in a long-sleeved onesie, Mogey could clearly see biceps, triceps, and even a few monoceps stretching that onesie to its absolute limits.

"Oh no," Mogey said.

"Is that..." Smush began.

"It sure is," Mogey confirmed. "Gah Gah McMuscles, the world's strongest baby."

"Toss him your donut and RUN!" screamed Smush. 

 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 34

 Mogey and Smush took their jobs as December Defenders very seriously. And that was good, because in the town of Santa Santa, Christmas was always under attack. 

The dastardly Chillbo Toboggans, an ornery gravedigger who believed the winter solstice ought to be a time not of joy and wonder but of treachery and grumpiness, hatched a plan each year to - as he called it - "foil Christmas." Along with his assistants, a pair of energetic porcupine brothers named Pert and Pert Plus, he had done everything from greasing the sidewalks near Santa Santa's downtown Christmas tree to stealing every ham, goose, and plant-based goose substitute in town. 

The only thing that stood between Chillbo and Christmas chaos was a citizens' paramilitary group known as the December Defenders, of which Mogey and Smush were proud members.

One night out on patrol, the pals spotted Pert and Pert Plus skulk-waddling along the trolley tracks, clearly up to some variety of mischief. Mogey motioned for Smush to follow at a distance where they'd be out of earshot (and quillshot). They trailed the porcupines into the center of town, where the hustle and bustle of Christmas revelry made it difficult to track their movements.

"Do you see them?" Mogey grunted, after several close calls.

"I think we lost the spiky miscreants," Smush acknowledged. 

"Ahem," stated a voice behind the pals.

They turned to see Pert and Pert Plus awkwardly holding out a beautifully wrapped box. Each of the brothers kept poking the other with his quills, making it nearly impossible to jointly hold the gift.

"Merry--ow!" said one.

"Yowch! Christmas!" said the other.

"For us?" Smush said. "You know we're members of the December Defenders, right?" He pointed to his official D.D. sweater vest.

"We know--gah! That one hurt!" Pert grimaced.

"But we figured--WOWSERS--you're just doing your job--oof!" Pert Plus groaned.

"And so are--yow! We," Pert continued. "So why let a little friendly rivalry get in the way of--AY-YAY-YAY!--a Christmas present?"

"Gosh, thanks!" said Mogey, accepting the gift. The porcupine brothers, clearly relieved to no longer be standing so close to one another, trundled off. 

"What is it? What is it?" Smush inquired, helping Mogey tear away the wrapping paper. 

When the gift finally appeared, the pals stared at it in disbelief for several moments.

"NOOOOOO!" Mogey cried, holding up a heavy cuboid the color of swamp mud. "I can't believe we fell for it!"

"Fruitcake!" Smush added. "They gave us fruitcake. The ultimate double cross!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 33

 Twas the final round of the annual Ornament Tournament in the village of Pullet Cutlet Hamlet. A mere quartet of competitors remained, and for the first time ever, both Mogey and Smush had reached the Festive Four. 

"Competitors," announced Ferd Bulbous, the harsh but fair Head Judge who was known to all as "the Mule of Yule." "Congratulations on reaching the Festive Four. You all know the rules: One ornament each."

"Yes, Mule!" shouted the foursome of contestants.

"A standard conifer branch must be able to bear the ornament's weight," Bulbous continued.

"Yes, Mule!"

"And nothing flammable."

"Yes, Mule!"

"Yes, M-- wait, what?" Mogey stammered.

"These are the rules of the Ornament Tournament. Let the Festive Four commence! We shall begin with you, young Smush."

Confidently Smush stepped before the judging panel, set down a skunk-sized parcel covered in a red cloth, and whipped the cloth away with a dramatic flourish. The crowd gasped.

"Tell us about what you have here," suggested Bananas O'Toole, the second judge at the table. 

"Was anyone else expecting a skunk under that cloth?" whispered the Mule of Yule.

"My newest ornament is a photorealistic sculpture of Champ Cluckens," Smush explained. "The first chicken to discover Pullet Cutlet Hamlet and the main course of our beloved village's earliest Christmas dinner."

"Am I mistaken, or is the ornament glowing from within?" croaked the third judge, a soft-spoken goblin who went by the moniker of Clam. 

"You are indeed correct, your molluskness," Smush replied. "I used a warm orange light to give Champ the reverence - and plate presentation - he deserves."

"Thank you, Smush," the Mule of Yule said. "Well done. Let us continue with the next contestant. Mogey?"

"Huh?" blurted Mogey. He'd been hunched over his ornament with his back to the judges' table. "Oh - right."

He strode forward, clutching in his hand what looked like a tiny metal rubbish bin on a string. Soot smudged his face and hands, and upon the floor where he'd been standing moments earlier, a pile of charcoal briquettes was visible.

"What have we here?" queried Clam. "And what smells like kerosene?"

"Well," Mogey said, "I'll tell you what it's not. It's NOT a working miniature trash can fire upon which one could roast delicious Christmas marshmallows."

"Of course not!" guffawed the Mule of Yule. "That would violate the rules of the Ornament Tournament. Not to mention the profound foolishness of hanging a trash can fire in a brittle fraser fir. Say, what's that behind your back?"

"Nothing!" said Mogey, chucking a box of matches into the crowd less subtly than a lego policeman bending down to tie his shoes. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 32

 As Mogey eased himself into the front seat of the trolley with an enormous groan, Smush cast him a sidelong glance. 

"What is it, Moge-man?" he asked over the clickety-clack of the trolley's wheels.

"Oooooooh it's the old noggin," Mogey replied. "It feels like a cartoon weasel is popping corn behind my eyeballs."

"Again?" queried Smush. "That's the third time you've complained of throbbing noggin this week. We've got to get you to a doctor."

"Excuse me," interjected a young man with ears the size of funnel cakes who wore a dayglo pink tracksuit, "I couldn't help but overhear."

"Bet you couldn't," mumbled Mogey, eyeing the gentleman's ears as he continued to clutch his aching head.

"Seems you two are looking for medical attention? Perhaps I can help. The name's Homer O'Pathy."

"Homer?" asked Smush skeptically. 

"Aye, but my friends all call me Homie. For a malady such as this, might I suggest--"

"Let me guess, Homie O'Pathy," Smush interrupted, "raw onions in the socks? Bacon bits under the full moon? Where'd you get your so-called medical degree from, anyway, Pete Bog's Bayou Institute of Folk Remedies, brought to you by Pete Bog Heating and Plumbing?"

"Imperial College," Homie replied. "Go Commodores! And I was going to suggest your friend start with two aspirin..."

"Ah, oh, erm," Smush stuttered, his face bright red. 

"I think what my friend is trying to say, Dr. O'Pathy," Mogey added, "is that we apologize. Please do go on with your recommendation."

"...washed down with a pint of strong irish whiskey that has been stored in the stall of a wistful donkey for no less than a fortnight and saged by a Grade 2 warlock."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 31

 "Which do you prefer," Mogey inquired, "gloves or mittens?"

"That all depends," said Smush. "Are we talking about warmin', magickin', or challengin'?"

"Care to elaborate?"

"Well," Smush elaborated, "if I'm just trying to warm my hands up during a cold day of perusing the new all-seasons at Town Fair Tire, it's mittens every time."

"That goes without saying," Mogey acknowledged. "You need to make sure you don't get chilly while examining all the name brands at discount prices."

"On the other hand, if I'm impressing a young governess with some sleight of hand card tricks down at the skating rink, only gloves will do." 

"You've got to have your fingers wiggleable at 1600 Skatesylvania Avenue," Mogey agreed.

"And if I must challenge some haughty noble to a duel with a slap across the face," Smush concluded, "it's a toss-up. A mitten or a glove could be equally devastating in the hands of a duelist such as myself." 

"All quite reasonable, but I think you've misunderstood my question a bit," said Mogey. "I was asking who you're rooting for in this evening's boxing match: Darthula 'Gloves' Glover or Gobstable P. Mittens?"

"Ah, that's easy," Smush replied. "Gloves all the way. I think he knocks Mittens out in the fourth round."

"How dare you?" shouted Gobstable P. Mittens, who happened to be sitting in the same nail salon, just two pedicure chairs away. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 30

 Though neither Mogey nor Smush had caught a wink of sleep for the last two nights, their excitement was still palpable as they strode through the front gardens of Burpee House. They'd lucked into highly-coveted invitations to Lord Deleck Table's annual harvest feast, and today was sure to be the highlight of their entire year. 

As they neared the manor, tendrils of fragrance drifted toward the pals, quickening their step into the front hall where smells even more delightful engulfed their nostrils. Servants bustled past, carrying loaded trays, bulging baskets, and overflowing platters.  

"Where do you suppose that Table is?" Mogey asked, daintily wiping drool from the corner of his mouth.

"The Lord himself or his actual table?" Smush responded.

"Either way." 

"Well," began Smush, massaging a neck sore from looking back and forth so frequently, "I believe his Lordship--"

"I changed my mind," said Mogey. "The actual table."

"Dunno."

"Did you see those gargoyles when we came in?" Mogey went on after a long silence. "I might need to get some of those."

"For your RV?" Smush demanded.

"Don't be silly," Mogey chided him. "I'd put them on my storage unit." 

"I don't believe this..."

"Alright, alright, no gargoyles. Sheesh."

"How many times must I tell you that it's pronounced 'Smush?'" Smush said with a sigh. "And it's not that. With all this blither blather, I find it hard to believe that today, of all days, you don't have a single thing to say to me about the actual food!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 29

 One sunny Tuesday, Mogey and Smush found themselves stuck at the top of a tree. It is best not to describe in full how they wound up there, but suffice it to say that the journey involved a peanut butter sandwich and a bold raccoon with an affection for pranks (and peanut butter sandwiches). 

"Alright, Mogey," said Smush after a long silence, "out with it."

"Out with what?"

"You've been glowering at both the sky and the ground for the last 45 minutes, which I know means you've got theories on the best way to get down. Let's hear 'em."

Mogey took a final glower at the earth, the sky, and his own dangly arm fat before finally responding.

"I've got four--no, five ideas so far," said the Mogster. "But before I lay them out for you, let me see you give those arms a shake."

Smush did as instructed, and Mogey closely observed his pal's borderline marsupial under-arm pouches, going so far as to snatch one on the backswing and give it a closer inspection.

"Yes, yes, yes," he muttered. "This will do nicely. Ok, the first idea I call 'the flying squirrel.' You see, we'll roll up our sleeves, spread our arms wide, and--"

"I get the picture," Smush responded. "Let's hear some of the other ideas, shall we?"

"Erm," Mogey hesitated, "was there something in particular that you don't like about the first idea?"

"It's best we don't dwell on it," said Smush.

"Alright then. My second idea I call 'the sugar glider...'"

As Smush mentally prepared himself for a long night in the treetop, the forest was still but for the lip-smacking of a prankster raccoon who was now wishing for a glass of milk. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 28

 As students/inmates at St. Autocrat's School for Pernicious Boys, Mogey and Smush were considered troublemakers. Rabblerousers. Yes, even agents provocateur. 

While the pals' hijinks had the teachers, guards, and even the schoolmaster - Mr. Leadguts - at their wit's end, there was one member of the faculty who continually proved Mogey and Smush's equal. The lunch lady, a vast woman named Lisa Croogle, always seemed to be one step ahead of them.

One evening, the pals snuck into the kitchens for a classic snack-and-prank 2-for-1. With them they carried four meticulously-trained mice with bad attitudes, a life-size wax model of Mr. Leadguts, and a pair of forks. Using extreme caution, Mogey and Smush padded their way into the deepest part of the kitchens, their eyes constantly sweeping the area for any sign of their nemesis. 

As Mogey grabbed hold of the icebox door, Smush raised a hand to request a pause. For a moment, as the pals listened to the quiet kitchens, all was still but for the grumpy squeaking of their trained mice.

"Who's there?" Smush called out. When there was no reply, he nodded to Mogey to proceed.

Directly behind the icebox door stood Lisa Croogle, hefting a sledgehammer and grinning maniacally. 

"Who do you bloody well think it is?" stated Croogle.

Without so much as pausing to shriek, Mogey and Smush dashed for the dormitories faster than a pair of movie dogs returning to their tousle-haired owner after being mistakenly left at the Grand Canyon. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 27

 "Smush!" Mogey shouted, whapping his pal's arm, "do you see what I see?" 

"I think so," Smush replied, "but I double checked and that glow up ahead isn't a Drive Thru Tacos Deluxe after all. It's just the stinkin' sun."

"Not the sun - take a gander through the trees there. Doesn't that look like a wishing well?"

"Erm," said Smush, "I suppose..."

"The perfect opportunity to wish for that water trampoline we've been wanting!"

"Well..."

"And," Mogey continued, "I just so happen to have a coin for each of us. If we double up on wishes, that water bouncer is as good as ours."

"I don't know," Smush said as Mogey dragged him toward the wishing well. "I think I'd rather save my wish for a shooting star or something."

"Nonsense!" 

Mogey thrust a piece of silver into his pal's hand and addressed the roofed stone structure that stood in the midst of a clearing. He placed his own coin atop his fist and prepared to flip it into the well.

"I wish for a top-of-the-line, inflatable, reinforced water tra--"

"Don't mind if I do!" croaked a voice from inside the well. Out shot a long and sticky tongue, which snatched the coin from Mogey's hand before he could finish his wish. Moments later, two bulbous eyes peeked out over the well's circular stone wall.

"Who in the world are you?" Mogey demanded. 

"Name's Beardley the coin-eating toad," the creature replied, somehow making a crunching sound as he chewed away at Mogey's silver. "Oh - hullo, Smush."

Smush shifted awkwardly when Beardley spoke to him, but said nothing in reply.

"Tell me, Smush," Beardley continued, grinning a warty grin, "did you ever get that 'Mogey-eating shark' you were wishing for when I munched your coin last week? As I am wont to do? Hmm?" 

"Well?" demanded Mogey, hands on hips. "Answer the toad! Is this why I keep seeing a circling dorsal fin and hearing a rumbling tumbly every time I go near the pond?"

"Alright!" Smush admitted. "It's true. I split a roast goose with our pal Ham von Hamm and got my shark on the wishbone. But I couldn't have you hogging the water trampoline when we do finally get it!"