One spooky evening around twilight, Mogey and Smush were taking the shortcut home through the forest of Nirkle. Some said things grew in the Nirkle that were vestiges of time immemorial...others claimed to have heard the voices of long- or almost-dead ancestors whispering through the vines and leaves.
"Why do we even take this way?" Mogey asked as they ducked under the fallen trunk of a once-great polka plant. "We say it's a shortcut, but one of us always gets almost eaten by something or we get lost or whatever else, and it ends up taking just as long as the path through East Baconston, home of the bacon slushie."
"Don't be so dramatic, Mogey," Smush said. "Neither of us has come close to getting eaten the last 4 or 5 times through here, right? Mogey?" Smush looked around, and sure enough, Mogey was wandering away as though entranced. "What are you doing, Mogey?"
"See that flower there?" Mogey said, pointing toward a rather large sunflower with a 1,000 yard stare on his face. "I shall pluck it and give it to the Lady Dewdlee, and she shall fall madly in love with me!"
"Who the heck is the Lady Dewdlee?" Smush asked as Mogey reached for the flower. For one split second Smush realized it was a bit odd for a sunflower to grow in the deep dark woods of Nirkle but then an enormous plant mouth clamped onto Mogey from above and lifted him high into the air.
With a sigh Smush took out the lamp oil Molotov cocktail he always carried with him through the forest of Nirkle for just such an occasion. Smush lit the oil-soaked rag in the bottle's end and shielded his eyes.
"Fear me, sir plant monster!" he yelled as he threw. "For my name is Smush!"
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