One autumn day so crisp that rice puffs were falling from the sky, Mogey and Smush were walking to polka band practice when they cane acriss famed wolf-jockey Smergen Montool. Smergen was riding his newest wolf, a vicious and bloodthirsty beast named Bojangles.
"Smergen Montool!" Mogey shouted gleefully. "We are huge fans!"
"Good evening, chaps," Smergen replied, cantering Bojangles toward them. "Always nice to meet wolf racing fans. Say, I don't suppose you'd like to come to our next race? I'm riding Bojangles here in the Buntrum Country Open Tuesday next."
"Would we!" Mogey cried as Smergen handed him a pair of tickets. "A billion thanks! We'll be cheering for you!"
Smergen Montool waved goodbye and we and galloped off down the street atop Bojangles. When he had disappeared, Smush snatched the tickets from Mogey, tore them to pieces, and ground them under the heel of his boot.
"What'd you do that for?" Mogey demanded.
"Have you ever been to a wolf race, Mogey?" Smush asked haughtily. "They don't even serve meat pies. All they have to eat are watercress sandwiches. Ugh."
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