Smush had done it again. Once every few weeks or so for the last year, he'd mistakenly shut the padlock on their outbuilding door and left the keys inside. Every time Smush did this, he and Mogey never realized the error until, of course, someone felt the need to enter the little building again, at which time they would repeat the same ritual: call up Carlos, the locksmith.
"Mornin' boys," said Carlos as he walked up from his van to greet a Mogey and Smush who appeared to have quite a bit on their respective minds. "Outhouse again?" he asked. Mogey and Smush nodded hurriedly.
"The sooner you can get that lock off, the better," Mogey said, wiping a drop of sweat from his brow.
"No worries, boys, I'll have that lock off in three shakes of a duck's tail," Carlos replied, hefting his lock cutters. He wasn't, coincidentally enough so much a locksmith as he was a man named Carlos with a van and a pair of lock cutters.
The three of them hustled round back, and true to his word, Carlos had the lock off before Mogey and Smush's duck, O'Mullen, could wag her tail three times. Mogey immediately hustled inside.
"Thanks again," Smush told Carlos as he handed him a crisp ninepence. "You know, Carlos, I was thinking, would you ever come see us if we didn't keep locking ourselves out?"
"No," said Carlos, "I don't believe I would. You really are two exceptionally strange people, aren't you?"
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