One day Mogey and Smush were focused intently on a pivotal game of checkers. The atmosphere was so tense that Mogey could only manage to choke down half of a plump roast goose with chestnut stuffing. Neither competitor dared move his back row for fear of a game-changing catastrophe, until finally Smush had no other choice.
"Ha!" Mogey shouted, moving one of his pieces into Smush's back row. "Prince me!"
"What are you talking about?" Smush asked. "Don't you mean 'king me?'"
"I mean exactly what I said," Mogey replied. "Now put a bottle cap on my prince's head and give him a tiny bazooka. Everyone should be given a bazooka on the day he becomes a prince."
"But we don't have any tiny bazookas! We only have that one," Smush said, gesturing to the massive firearm leaning in the corner of their breakfast nook.
"Oh well," Mogey rejoined with a wide grin. "I guess my prince is going to blow your checker army away!"
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