On a mysterious morning in late spring, Mogey and Smush walked along the sun dappled forest floor of Wiseacre Wood. They were making much less noise than usual for fear of waking the Brutish Magees, a notorious family of opossums that lived in the area.
Without warning, a monstrous hole opened in the ground before them, yawning wide as Mogey and Smush stood rooted to the ground in terror. The hole expanded until it swallowed Mogey and Smush up, and the two friends found themselves in the damp, toothy mouth of some enormous underground creature.
The mouth chewed thoughtfully for a few moments before letting out a fearsome roar and spitting Mogey and Smush high into the air. They were thrown far above the treetops but had the great fortune of landing in a thicket of rare beanbagplants, the softest bushes in all that country.
"And that," Smush said, wiping a gob of monster spit from his neck, "is why we never take a bath the week before traveling through Wiseacre Wood."
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