One afternoon Mogey and Smush were doing the dishes when their friend Ongy Oingy stopped by for a spot of lemon-lime soda pop. Ongy Oingy was a man who was long in the moustache and wide in the belly, so their ancient sofa creaked mightily when he took a seat.
"I've got a question for yehs guys," Ongy Oingy said. "Why is it you're missing a cushion on this couch?"
"Oh that cushion's not missing," Mogey said knowledgably. "It's the imaginary cushion."
"See, the other two cushions, they're just old, dusty, musty sacks," Smush added. "The imaginary cushion can be anything at all: a soft bed of moss...a heap of bunnies...a cloud that's been put in the clothes drier until it's warm as could be...."
"I see," Ongy Oingy replied, taking a thoughtful sip of his lemon lime soda pop. "And you two just got rid of the real cushion that used to be here? For no reason?"
"Well we did coincidentally happen to invent the imaginary cushion the same night Mogey got sick all over the old cushion," Smush answered.
"I ate a really bad batch of blazin' amazin' buffalo chicken wings," Mogey said, shrugging his shoulders in agreement.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment