The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXXXII

On a clear day in late Octebuary, one of the greatest Boast Battles ever held took place. Braggart Smush (with Coach Mogey by his side) took on Big Teddy Barfenbleu, the Grand Boaster of Blawburgh at the time.

"At the age of ten I consumed an entire bear and washed it down with a cask of whiskey!" Big Teddy Barfenbleu proclaimed as the combatants squared off.

"Well I once ate three and a half slices of bacon pizza, crust and all!" Braggart Smush rebutted. "Except for that half slice! I only ate the bottom half of that one!"

"Oooh!" exclaimed the assembled crowd of two hardcore Boast Battle fans, a family of corncobs, and the four gentlemen who'd set up the stage.

"I once sprinted from the bottom of the lowest valley in the land to the top of the tallest mountain in an hour and fifteen minutes!" said Big Teddy Barfenbleu.

"Well I've ridden a sheep for almost twenty seconds!" cried Braggart Smush.

"Atta boy, Smush," Coach Mogey whispered in his ear. "Keep him back-peddling."

"I was born inside a volcano as it was being struck by lightning!" Big Teddy Barfenbleu answered back.

"When I was a baby my mama said I was...." Here Smush paused, glancing at Mogey for approval to use his most unstoppable boast. Mogey nodded icily. "My mama said I was..." Smush repeated, "quite...a...handful."

The crowd erupted with cries of shock and delight, and from that day forth Braggart Smush was crowned the new Grand Boaster of Blawburgh.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXXXI

One winter's day when the air was clear as a bell and cold as bald yeti's ears, the neighborhood children all climbed to the top of Runkle Hill. Most of them had shovels to sled on, and a lucky few even had toboggans, but poor Mogey and Smush had to share a single melon-baller between the two of them.

So Mogey sat on Smush's shoulders, and Smush balanced one-footed on the melon-baller, but they didn't move an inch, not even when Beefy Tom Jarlsberg gave them a push. When he realized they'd never be able to sled Runkle Hill until they could afford a shovel, Mogey plopped down in the snow and commenced to cry.

"There, there, Mogey," Smush comforted his pal, "have you got any paper cones?" Mogey nodded silently. "And have you got any rainbow-colored syrup?"

"Of course," Mogey replied tearfully, pulling a bottle out of his coat. "Always."

So Smush carefully scooped a snowball with the melon-baller and deposited it into a paper cone, then drizzled the rainbow-colored syrup over the top and handed it to Mogey.

"There you go, Mogemeister," Smush said. "Let's see the other kids try to make a sno cone that nice with their fancy schmancy shovels."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXXX

One morning Mogey and Smush were pushing their wool cart to market piled high with newly shorn fleeces. Or more accurately, Smush was pushing the cart, while Mogey (who was supposed to be in front guiding his pal away from any stray potholes or hedgehogs) scurried around the grass beside the road picking gewdleberries.

Anyhow, Mogey and Smush were about halfway to town when they began to observe a stench so disagreeable, so loathsome, indeed, so funky, that it nearly put them off their mighty appetites.

"What is that smell?" Smush demanded, his view blocked by the white bundles of wool.

"Good heavens..." Mogey said, stopping dead in his tracks. "Stop the cart, Smush. STOP THE CART! I think there's a stink weasel in the road!"

Smush brought the cart to a screeching halt and peered hesitantly around the pile of fleeces. Sure enough, a small green critter was standing in their path, its little paws perched confidently on its hips.

"Is that..." Mogey muttered, unable to go on. Waves of stink were emanating from the creature, causing his and Smush's eyes to water and their nostrils to clamp shut.

"The most feared goofy animal in these parts?" Smush replied somberly. "Yes. A skunk only emits odors from its tail, but a stink weasel reeks from all four legs, as well as its eyes, ears, nose, and belly button. Plus, they've got the cunning of a score of weasels. That critter could ruin this entire cart of wool if he wanted to."

"But selling this wool is the only way we'll be able to afford the family-size box of freeze pops!" Mogey exclaimed. "What can we do?"

"I'll handle it," Smush answered bravely. And like the true hero he was, Smush walked straight up to that stink weasel, grabbed it by the scruff of the neck, and dragged it into a flower patch as Mogey pushed the cart on by.

Mogey was so grateful for Smush's sacrifice that every morning over the next month he picked out Smush's favorite flavor of freeze pop and chucked him one (from a healthy distance of 30 yards or so).

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXXIX

Mogey and Smush loved to look at Benson Barnknuckle's ball of yarn. It was more than eighteen feet across and contained such a dazzling array of colors that Mogey and Smush could stare at it for hours on end, smelling the sweet smell of ancient yarn. Benson Barnknuckle didn't care: he was so proud of his ball of yarn that he'd bring onlookers a glass of limeade and a plate of fried parsnips, just to keep them around.

"Mr. Barnknuckle," Smush began one wintry day when he and Mogey had been studying the ball for most of the afternoon, "there's something I've always wanted to know. How did you start building the ball?"

"Ho ho ho," Benson Barnknuckle laughed, for he was a jovial sort. "You young lads are always so curious. How do you think I started it?"

"I think you pushed a little ball of yarn down a hill covered with more yarn!" Mogey said around a mouthful of fried parsnips.

"Not quite, laddie," Benson Barnknuckle replied. "No, at the very center of that ball of yarn lies the hoof of a horse who tried to steal my granddad's wristwatch. I caught him in the act, the sneaky bugger. Well I taught him! There isn't much point to stealing a wristwatch if you haven't got a hoof to keep it on, is there boys?" Benson Barnknuckle exclaimed with a grin, clapping Smush on the back.

Mogey and Smush exchanged looks of horror and backed slowly away from Benson Barnknuckle's big ball of yarn.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXXVIII

One breezy summer afternoon Mogey and Smush were attending a party in Crabgrass Park. After several rousing games of Buck Buck, a few of the partygoers were beginning to eye an extremely nappable patch of moss in the shade of a cork tree. Smush, however, was not ready to let the festivities end.

"Alright everyone, gather round," Smush called. "Let's all sit in a big circle. It's time for a round of Pork, Pork, Bacon."

"Don't you mean Duck, Duck, Goose?" a wisecracking whippersnapper (who also happened to be a whipcracking wisersnapper) interrupted.

"Now listen here," Smush replied, wagging a finger at the W.C.W.S. "Which would you rather have: a perfectly seasoned pork loin wrapped in delicious crispy bacon? Or a boiled duck burrito wrapped in cold goose feet?"

"The pork one I suppose," the wisecracking whippersnapper answered.

"I rest my case," Smush said.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXXVII

"What should we have for lunch today, Smush?" Mogey asked one cool weekend morning.

"How about deviled eggs?" Smush volunteered. Mogey gasped in horror, his eyes wide and his nostrils wiggling at the audacity of Smush's suggestion.

"Deviled eggs on a Sunday?" Mogey exclaimed. "How dast you?"

"What's wrong with that?" Smush asked.

"What's wrong with that?" Mogey repeated incredulously. "What's wrong with that? Have you gone mad? No deviled foods of any kind are allowed on Sundays! It's a hard and fast rule: no deviled ham, no deviled spam, and certainly no deviled eggs."

"Well what should we have then?" Smush queried, rolling his eyes.

"To counteract the impudence of your first suggestion I'd say we should have angeled eggs," Mogey replied. "Or mere-mortaled eggs at a bare minimum."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXXVI

Mogey and Smush found themselves breaking up a fight at their bakery for the 5th time in a fortnight. This tussle was between Jimmy Nottingwood and Beefcake MacGraw, who'd accused Jimmy of swiping a fingerful of frosting from his red velvet cupcake. Of course, Jimmy Nottingwood wouldn't stand being accused (falsely or otherwise) of anything, and so fisticuffs ensued.

Mogey and Smush were able to separate the combatants before any damage was done to their display case, and they gave each man a calming honey bran muffin and sent him on his merry way.

Officer Mulberry showed up not long after, having received numerous calls about the disturbance from the saloon across the street.

"Nothing broke, boys?" Officer Mulberry asked.

"Not this time, thank goodness," Smush replied. "But we just keep getting fights in here lately - I can't figure it out!"

"It's a head-scratcher," the officer said. "But I wonder if it's got anything to do with you changing your motto from 'Always Fresh' to 'Mogey and Smush's: Where Rough Men Go to Eat Soft Pastries.'"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXV

Mogey and Smush each had a room in the old house into which the other daren't enter. Mogey's such room was his bedchamber, which contained the hammock where he slept every night, along with his extensive collection of beanie babies. Smush's private room, on the other hand, was his study. Long had Mogey been curious about the contents of his best pal's study, and so he gleaned tidbits about the room whenever he could.

One day, Mogey couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. He'd heard rumors from the house's mice (who weren't a talkative bunch, but could occasionally be bribed with a wheel of aged gouda) about some sort of large animal head mounted in Smush's study, and Mogey just had to know what it was.

"Smush," Mogey began cautiously, "if you don't mind me asking, how have you decorated your little study?"

"Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that," Smush replied, not looking up from the arts and leisure section of the morning paper. "Just things I've collected in my travels."

"You wouldn't, by any chance, have any sort of big game mounted on your wall, would you?" Mogey asked.

"You mean like the head of the Munching Snail of Cairo? The most fearsome mollusk ever to ooze slimily across the face of the earth?" Smush queried. Mogey nodded vigorously. "No, nothing like that," Smush continued, returning to his paper. "And you need to stop listening to those mice so much."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXXIV

One day Mogey and Smush were at work in the gumball factory, when Mogey noticed a brand new, shiny red button mounted on the wall. Above the button hung a stern sign that read "Do Not Push." Being inquisitive by nature, Mogey didn't last 30 seconds before he just had to see what the button would do. Ignoring the sign, he approached the button and depressed it with one of his plump fingers.

But a very strange thing happened: nothing. Work in the factory continued as normal, but no sooner had Mogey pushed the button than he began to feel a pit of dread growing in his tummy. Later, as he and Smush punched out for the day, they stepped outside into a driving rainstorm.

"Is this the button's purpose?" Mogey exclaimed as thunder boomed in the distance. "Did the button cause this storm?"

"Don't be silly, Mogey," Smush replied, pulling his parka tight about him. "The weather man has been predicting a rainstorm all week."

As Mogey and Smush walked up the narrow road at the edge of town, they were accosted by two highwaymen in deep purple masks.

"Did the button send you?" Mogey demanded of the highwaymen as they relieved Mogey and Smush of their most prized possessions.

"No," one of them answered. "And give me all three of your necklaces - including the candy one."

Finally Mogey and Smush reached home, damp, tired, and famished, only to find that their butler, Chalmsley, had burned their evening toast.

"Darn it, Mogey," Smush said, biting into a piece of blackened toast with marmalade. "I told you not to push that button."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXXIII

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you for a long time," Smush said to Mogey one day as they were out berry picking.

"Yes? What's that, Smush?" Mogey queried, popping a ripe blomberry into his mouth.

"What is your favorite type of cutlery?" Smush asked.

"The spoon," Mogey replied without hesitation.

"Really?" Smush said. "I always figured you for a fork type."

"Rubbish!" Mogey rejoined. "Absolute trash in a basket! The fork is far inferior to the spoon. Let me ask you this: can you eat beef broth with a fork?"

"Not really," Smush answered.

"Ah, but can you eat beef broth with a spoon?" Mogey asked.

"Yes..." said Smush.

"I rest my case," Mogey concluded, taking a long draught of beef broth from his canteen.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXXII

"Step right up, step right up!" the man in the straw hat hollered, so Mogey and Smush stepped up. They knew the unwritten law of the fairground: woe is he who does not follow the instructions of a man in a straw hat.

"Step right up," the man repeated. "Come and see Honkman, the miraculous talking duck - only two silver pennies. I personally guarantee he talks or your money back."

Mogey and Smush immediately forked over the cash and proceeded behind the curtain where a white duck stood looking at what appeared to be an extremely short sheet music stand. The two pals stared at Honkman expectantly.

"Ahem..." Honkman said, clearing his throat and glancing back down at his lines. "Quack."

"How cool was that?" Mogey whispered sharply to Smush as they hustled out of the little room.

"I know!" Smush replied. "Should we get back in line and go again?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXXI

One foggy morn, Mogey and Smush were circling the bay in their old trawler, the HMS Pork Fritter, checking all their lobster pots. They'd done about half a morning's worth of work (and eaten half a morning's worth of eclairs) when they pulled up a pot with the strangest looking critter inside.

"What is that thing, Smush?" Mogey asked, staring at the creature in disgust.

"I can't say for sure, Mogey," Smush responded as he eyed the thing warily. "Let's see: it seems to be a crustacean of some sort, with a reddish-brown shell. It's got two giant claws in the front and a bunch of little legs down both sides, and its got a big curled under tail that keeps whapping about."

"Could it be?" Mogey suggested breathlessly.

"Yes, Mogey, I do believe we've done it," Smush whispered. "After all these years...we've finally caught a lobster!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXX

"Say, Mogey," Smush said one day as the two pals were shaving cedar shingles in the shade of a cork tree, "have you ever told a lie?"

"Never," Mogey replied with certainty.

"What about the time you told Sherriff Boonpangles that you were being disruptive in the town hall meeting due to circumstances beyond your control?" Smush asked.

"Look, just because I've never told a lie doesn't mean I haven't made false statements with a deliberate intent to deceive from time to time," Mogey said. "Besides, how could I have controlled the circumstances of Old Man Gingersnap's big bald head looking particularly shiney on a night when I just so happened to have my best peashooter in my pocket?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXIX

"Smush! Smush!" Mogey yelled, running breathlessly about the house until he found Smush marinating lamb shanks in the kitchen. "You'll never believe what I just found! A bee tree!"

"Excellent," Smush replied, grinning widely. "Now grab a pan full of embers from the fire and meet me out front, I'm going to grab my lacrosse helmet." The two pals charged off in separate directions and met in the front garden.

"There's one other thing," Mogey mentioned as they walked. "The bees are actually hornets...do you suppose that makes a difference for the honey?"

"I don't see why it should," Smush said. "Hornet babies need to eat just as much as other bee babies, don't they?"

When the pals reached the bee tree they kindled a wet fire just upwind of the hornet nest and waited while the heavy smoke lulled the hornets to sleep. After a while, the sound of hornet snoring began to fill the forest and Mogey and Smush cautiously reached into the tree, pulling out several honeycombs each.

"Bleckk!" Mogey shouted, spitting out the first bite. "This hornet honey tastes awful!"

"That it does, Mogey," Smush said, wiping his mouth. "I think we must have gotten a stale batch."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXVIII

One day Mogey and Smush were passing by the town store when something caught Mogey's fancy. Hanging in the store window was a little wicker cage containing a canary as bright yellow as a a half-eaten jar of spicy mustard. Mogey knew then and there that the canary would be his, and he walked inside with an air of purpose he normally reserved for food-related activities.

"How much for the birdie?" he asked the proprietor.

"Free," the shopkeeper said with a sigh of relief. "Just take it off my hands. The durned thing won't clam up!"

"Cheep cheep," the little canary tweeted.

"Is that all he does?" Mogey said. "That cheeping ain't so bad."

"It don't seem so bad now," the shopkeeper replied, "but try listening to it for a few days...it's enough to drive a man to madness!"

"It doesn't bother me any," Mogey said. "As a matter of fact I quite like it. I'll take the little guy."

"Cheep cheep," the bird called.

"Now, Mogey," Smush cautioned, "are you quite sure? You always take a shine to these little animals and then get bored of them the next week. It's a lot of work to take care of that little canary...."

"P'shaw," Mogey replied. "P'shaw." So the pals headed on home, Mogey carrying the little canary in his wicker cage, Smush holding a sack of bird feed. By the time they were strolling up the front walk an hour later, Mogey's eyes had the hollow look of someone who might snap at any moment.

"I can't stand it any more!" he cried. "The thing just doesn't stop that ridiculous cheeping! Doesn't his throat ever get tired? This bird is pure evil, Smush, pure evil, I tell you! He must be destroyed!"

"Cheep cheep," the canary said.

"Alright," Smush replied, heaving a great sigh. "I'll go tell Mittens and Whiskers they're getting something special for dinner tonight."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXVII

One afternoon Mogey and Smush were relaxing on their front porch, sipping lemonade and munching on molasses cookies with molasses frosting that were especially tasty when dunked in large bowl of molasses. They were just beginning to debate whether a dozen cookies apiece is too many for one sitting, when their conversation was interrupted by a man walking up the front steps.

"Good morrow, gentlemen," the man said. He was a youngish fellow with a bit of beard clinging to his face and he wore what appeared to be a deerskin jacket. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but, you see, I'm a bit lost. The name's Sebastian Hankanitus," he went on, extending a hand.

"Bless you," said Smush.

"Say, what a coincidence. I think I have a case of that Substin Hunkaritus on my foot," Mogey exclaimed.

"Er, I think you misunderstood me, sir," Sebastian replied. "You see, my name is Sebastian Hankanitus."

"Right, right," Mogey said, nodding. "No, I understand you, Doc. But since you're here, would you mind taking a look at my foot?"

"Sir, no, I'm not a doctor," Sebastian protested as Mogey plopped his bare foot on the table. "Why do you want me to look at your foot?"

"I thought you said you were an expert on Stankerson Honkenitus," Mogey answered. "And I got it bad. I mean look at this hoof! It's bluer than a sheep who's been painted blue. What do you think, Doc?"

"I don't know," Sebastian sighed, glancing about the room. "Maybe stop eating so much molasses?"

"That's what all the other doctors keep telling me," Mogey said, shaking his head as he munched another cookie. "But it's just so darned refreshing."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXVI

It was time for Mogey and Smush's 93rd annual Race for the Green Crown. The pals raced over hill and dale, under dill and hale, and all the way around Le Dahlil (a very stinky swampland in the neighboring township). After many seconds of competition (and a round of seconds at the all-you-can-eat ice cream buffet as well) Mogey was the first atop Bellyache Bridge, where the Green Crown was kept.

"I've done it!" Mogey wheezed, attempting to hold his hands aloft with joy. "I've won the 93rd annual Race for the Green Crown!"

He ceremoniously placed the illustrious Green Crown atop his head and performed a customary celebration known as the "braggart's twirl." But Mogey's legs were burning with exhaustion and his tummy was full of ice cream, so he lost his balance just enough that the Green Crown flew off his head and into the river below.

"Nooooooooo!" Mogey cried, falling to his knees.

"Don't fret, Mogey," Smush consoled his pal, who was now openly weeping. "After all, the Green Crown is nothing but an upside-down lily pad."

Just then, an extraordinarily large bald man appeared at the top of the bridge. He was sopping wet, from the top of his shiny head, to the tips of his hairy toes.

"Say," the man said, "did someone throw this upside-down lily pad at me?"

"Oh thank you, sir!" Mogey exclaimed, snatching the Green Crown from the man's hand and placing it back atop his own head. "You've saved the 93rd annual Race for the Green Crown!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXV

One breezy afternoon, Mogey and Smush were out back feeding the pigs their second mid-afternoon snack, when they noticed a strange man prowling about the barnyard. Without so much as a nod to acknowledge their presence, the man crept along, pausing every so often to twist his orangey-red moustache. The man carried an old-timey musket, which was his only option gun-wise, seeing as it was old timey times.

"Pardon me, mister," Smush called. "But may we help you?" The man turned toward Mogey and Smush and held a finger to his lips.

"The name's Rudolph Binkle," he whispered. "Dinosaur hunter."

"Well, Master Binkle," Mogey said. "As you can see, we have no dinosaurs here...."

"Shh!" Rudolph Binkle hissed. "I may have gotten one in my sights! Yes! Tis a rare bumposaurus if I ever saw one."

"My good man," Smush stated with just a hint of frustration. "If you do not cease pointing that rifle at our pet camel, Chauncey, I shall be forced to hogtie you and remove you from the premises."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXIV

One day Mogey and Smush were running the obstacle course at boot camp, except that instead of running, they were lollygagging. Mogey and Smush were notorious throughout their unit for lollygaggery, and on this particular day Sergeant Sauerbraten decided he'd had enough.

"Private Mogey! Private Smush!" he howled. "Is that lollygagging I spy?"

"Yes, Sergeant Sauerbraten, sir, it surely is," Smush retorted, kicking his legs as he sat atop the monkey bars.

"Do you know what I do with privates who enjoy lollygagging?" Sergeant Sauerbraten asked, grabbing Mogey by the front of his shirt.

"No, Your Sauerness, ah, sir," Mogey stuttered, staring in amazement at Sergeant Sauerbraten's visibly beefy breath.

"I administer...water torture," Sergeant Sauerbraten said, lowering his voice to a whisper. Mogey and Smush gasped with fear. "That's right: the one and only beverage you'd be allowed to consume for 48 straight hours is water. Any questions?"

"Just one," Smush asked, his eyes wide with terror. "Are frappes considered a beverage?"

"You're darn right they are," Sergeant Sauerbraten sneered. Mogey and Smush sprinted the rest of the obstacle course so fast, that had their lollygaggery not already set them severely behind, they would have finished in record time. And not once, for the rest of their days, did Mogey and Smush even consider lollygagging.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume CCCXIII

"Oy, Smush!" Mogey shouted one morning as he jumped up and down on his Smush's bed in an effort to wake him up. "It's almost light out and the durfing is supposed to be incredible today!"

"What in the name of apple dumplings is 'durfing?'" Smush demanded without opening his eyes.

"What is durfing? You can't be serious," Mogey chided. "Have you been living under a rock, Smush?"

"I do live under a rock," Smush replied. "Our house is a burrow dug beneath the mighty Boulder of Brigenders, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Mogey said. "Well that doesn't excuse your lack of knowledge about the grand sport of durfing - it's all the rage among the youths and youthettes of the land!" Mogey honked Smush's nose until he finally opened his eyes. "I'm about to tell you two words that have captured the imaginations of thousands... donkey surfing."

"Donkey surfing?" Smush asked.

"Donkey surfing," Mogey replied. "There's nothing quite like the feeling of smooth donkey fur beneath your feet as you balance atop the most graceful creature in the kingdom at a full gallop. That's durfing." Mogey reduced his voice to a whisper. "And rumor has it that this very morning, durfing pioneer Sir Andre Michael Michaelson III will attempt to durf the undurfable Shale Bluff atop his mighty steed, Bucky."