The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 534

After a heartbreaking loss in the countywide kickball tournament, Mogey and Smush found themselves dining at the grand estate of Bigby Largitude III, the captain and financial backer of their team.

"Well, you can't win 'em all, I suppose," Bigby said in a subdued tone.

"Mmm," Mogey replied, reaching for another lamb shank.

"Indeed," Smush added, refilling his glass with with fresh-squeezed orange juice.

"We left it all out on the field," Bigby continued.

"Quite," Smush said around a mouthful of lobster stuffed with filet mignon.

"Too true," Mogey agreed as he heaped another spoonful of caviar onto his plate.

"Kickball really is a game of inches," Bigby said.

"Oh, spare me your platypus!" Mogey cried at the top of his lungs.

"Don't you mean 'platitudes?'" Bigby replied coolly.

"No," Mogey answered. "I was just letting your butler know that I'm all set on the platypus front... it's a bit overcooked for my liking."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 533

Curious lads that they were, Mogey and Smush thought a long time about the nickname that had been bestowed on a particular one of their schoolmates. Many theories as to the origins of the name had been proposed, but every one was discredited in turn. Finally, Mogey and Smush saw no other choice but to ask the classmate himself.

"So why is it they call you Muleboy?" Smush queried when they encountered him in the cafeteria.

"Why do you think?" Muleboy returned, setting down his tray and crossing his arms.

"Is it because of your enormous nostrils?" Mogey ventured.

"No," Muleboy answered, flaring his nostrils angrily.

"Your habit of eating out of a feedbag?" Smush suggested.

"No," Muleboy said. "And those aren't feedbags, they're potato chip packages. I like the crispy crumblies at the bottom."

"Is it your long snout, er, I mean, nose?" Mogey asked.

"Not likely."

"Your hairy face? Your big front teeth? Your affinity for hay?" Smush said.

"No, no, and no," Muleboy replied. "It's because of my incredibly strong legs!"

With that, Muleboy spun around, went down on all fours, and kicked at Mogey and Smush, just like a mule. Each of our heroes caught a foot square in the chest, sending them flying backwards so fast that Smush didn't eat anything but fudgsicles for a week, and Mogey coughed up a live gopher he'd apparently forgotten to chew thoroughly enough.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 532

"I've kept you in the dark for too long," Mogey announced as he and Smush strode into the county fairgrounds for the annual egg-toss competition. "I don't just plan to watch this contest. I've entered as a competitor."

"You have?" Smush asked, trying not to sound too hurt. "But who's your egg-toss partner?"

"Chugg Malloy," Mogey replied with a sly smile.

"Chugg Malloy?" Smush demanded. "You mean your archenemy? The Chugg Malloy who was so angry when you dented his front bumper that he plucked every one of our chickens bald and then turned up the AC in the chicken coup?"

"That's the one."

"But they say his fastball goes 114 miles an hour! He once decapitated the batter, catcher, and umpire on the same pitch! This is the man you're going to allow to throw a small round object in your direction?"

"See that's where the plan gets truly ingenius," Mogey said. "I've switched our egg out for a Cadbury creme egg. When he throws it at my head - as he surely will - I'll end up with a mouth full of chocolate and laugh all the way to the dentist!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 531

"Scrabble, Mousetrap, Clue, and Trouble," the witch moaned as she stirred her cauldron ominously.

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" Mogey whispered. He and Smush stood across the glowing pot of witch's brew, shivering in the moonless night.

"We've got to do it!" Smush replied quietly. "If we don't get this strength potion, Howie Wheeler and Bart Gimick are just going to keep taking our lunch money until we haven't got any left. Then they'll start stealing our clothes!"

"Silence!" the witch cried. "The toad you brought requires the utmost quiet in order to infuse the potion with his toadiness."

The toad calmly presided over the brewing process atop a stool and didn't appear at all perturbed by their conversation, but Mogey and Smush hushed up nonetheless. The witch gave the potion a final stir, then produced a pinch of some mysterious powder from the depths of her robes, which she deposited into the cauldron with a flourish.

Emitting a thunderous POP the cauldron immediately burst forth a fireball the size of a small horse, which knocked Mogey and Smush to the ground and singed the witch's eyebrows.

"Ribbit," said the toad from atop his perch. The witch leaned in close, carefully inspecting the creature.

"This isn't a toad at all!" she shrieked. "You've brought me a frog dipped in grapenuts!"

"Sorry," Smush replied, shrugging his shoulders. "We don't have many toads near our house."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 530

In the olden days, a time period in which Mogey and Smush occasionally lived, a spice peddler would travel from town to town leading a little spotted donkey. The donkey wore cargo shorts on both its front and back legs, and every one of its pockets bulged with exotic flavors from unknown lands.

One olden day, the spice peddler happened upon Mogey and Smush's cottage and walked up to the front porch in hopes of selling some of his wares.

"Ahoy," hailed the spice peddler, as spice peddlers are wont to do. Mogey answered the door wearing only his long johns and holding a musket in his hands.

"What can I do for you?" Mogey asked cheerfully.

"Sir, I'm a traveling spice peddler. I wonder: would you care to purchase any herbs or spices?"

"Herbs?" Mogey demanded. "Spices? You disgust me. We don't engage in that sort of tomfoolery in this establishment! Why don't you and your donkey get out of here and go back to playing ultimate frisbee?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 529

"You know something, Smush?" Mogey asked one day as they hoed the rutabagas under a blistering sun. "I just don't understand New Year's Eve."

"What's not to understand?" Smush asked, pausing to mop his brow.

"I don't know why everybody chooses that one random night to drink champagne, eat peaches, and break chairs over one anothers' heads. Is there no rhyme or reason to it?"

"Well of course there is," Smush replied, ignoring Mogey's typically blatant ignorance of holiday traditions. "It's the last day of the year, isn't it? A time to celebrate the inception of a brand new, unspoiled year. Haven't you ever noticed that New Year's Eve takes place on the same date every time?"

"Nope," Mogey replied. And with that he dropped his hoe and went running down the field in hot pursuit of an anthropomorphic cumberbund who had just stolen the biggest, finest rutabaga of the season.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 528

"What are you doing on Saturday, Mogey?" Smush asked one morning so glorious that a muffin was later named after it.

"You mean after the snake rasslin' competition in the village square?" Mogey asked. "Nothing much."

"Excellent," Smush replied. "We're throwing a party for the seventy-fifth birthday of Hedgehog Sam, the Bacon Man. Now remember, it's a surprise party so mum's the word."

"What word?"

"It's just a figure of speech," Smush said, rolling his eyes. "Just go back to playing with that Jacob's ladder and be quiet about it, will you?"

"How am I supposed to be quiet when you're talking about mummy parties and bacon?" Mogey exclaimed. "I have so many questions. How much bacon will there be? What type of bacon? Will the bacon be free?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 527

"Son, what is your greatest ambition in life?" the King of the Rat People asked Mogey. Mogey wiped canoli filling off his chin, for he and Smush had just won their freedom from the Rat People by out-eating two prolific Rat Men at a buffet of stale Italian pastries.

"I want to be the lead baton twirler in the Harvest Day Parade," he replied breathlessly.

"I see," said the King of the Rat People, thoughtfully tapping his swan bone sceptre to his chin. "And why is that?"

"Because I love batons," Mogey answered. "I love them in soup. I love them on salads. I even love them crushed up in a glass of ice cold milk."

"Psst," the King of the Rat People whispered, turning to Smush, "is he confusing batons and croutons?"

"Yes," Smush replied, "yes, I do believe he is."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 526

Smush returned home one evening with a goose under one arm and a barrel of pickled hog noses under the other, only to find his pal Mogey sitting alone on the sofa with a lampshade over his head.

"Holy seedcakes, Mogey!" Smush shouted, starting as he came upon his friend in the darkened room. "You nearly scared the pants off me. Weren't you planning on doing some crazy partying tonight?"

"That's what I am doing," Mogey replied, without removing his peculiar head garment. "Whenever someone's been out a crazy party in the cartoons, they've always got a lampshade on their head."

"I see," said Smush. "But why is it so dark in here?"

"Um... because I took the lamp apart? Duh."

"So then you're just going to wait here until something crazy happens?" Smush asked.

"That's the plan," Mogey replied assuredly. "Wooooeeee! You and me, lampshade! Let the party begin!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 525

"Mogey and Smush's Casa de Apples and Appley Things," was a very grand name for a not-so-grand establishment. It was a rusted out old gypsy wagon out of which Mogey and Smush sold apples, apple butter, apple sauce, and pineapples. But never apple cider. Under no circumstances apple cider.

On a day so sweaty that it made the dog days of Summer seem like that sea-cucumber days of Spring, Mogey and Smush were minding the counter at the Casa de Apples and Appley Things and fanning themselves with old hubcaps. A fine horse and carriage pulled up along the nearby dusty road and out stepped the most beautiful princess Mogey and Smush had ever seen.

She waltzed serenely up to the gypsy cart window and ordered two apple tarts and a bowl of apple sauce, which she promptly ate while Mogey and Smush watched wordlessly.

"You sir," she said, addressing Mogey as she wiped the crumbs off her delicate hands. "Are you the architect of these tasty delights?"

"No'm," Mogey admitted. "I'm really more of an assistant. Me pal Smush here is the true genius behind Mogey and Smush's Casa de Apples and Appley Things."

"Is this true?" the princess asked. Smush nodded. "Then come back to my castle with me and be my husband. Any man who can work such wonders with apples and appley things has earned my undying admiration and affection. You shall be King and Lord of every apple the sun touches. And your friend the good Mogey will have any Dukedom his heart desires."

"Truly?" Smush asked.

"Truly," the princess replied. "If you'll pour me one glass of apple cider we can be on our way immediately!"

"Cider?" Smush demanded. "Apple CIDER? Do I look like a purveyor of cider to you? Cider is for grouchy babies and rebellious grandpas! That scenario you just laid out - you know, the one that I've dreamt about since the day I was born in the pig trough next door - is off! Off I say!"

Without another word, the princess turned on her heel, climbed into the coach, and drove away.

"Way to tell her, Smush," Mogey congratulated. "That princess had another thing coming. Cider... p'shaw...."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 524

There was no more avoiding the issue. It was time to face facts. Mogey's head had become as bald as a ripe plum.

Smush knew that his pal had been going through a sensitive patch ever since that lone remaining hair had fallen out during its daily brushing, so he tried to keep his jokes to a minimum and help Mogey through.

One day, after a week of sullenness, Mogey came up from the cellar (where he had taken to sleeping), as chipper as Smush had ever seen him. There was a hop in his step, a swagger in his gate, and even a jaunty tilt to the way his 9 millimeter semi-automatic pistol was stuffed into the back of his jeans. It didn't take Smush long to find out why.

"Good morning, good Smush," Mogey said cheerily. "Notice anything different about me?"

Smush looked up from his breakfast and almost choked to death on his honey bunches of honey nut honey.

"What is that on your head?" he asked when he had finished coughing. Perched atop Mogey's hairless noggin was a piece of hard, shiny plastic molded into the shape of hair.

"A wig," Mogey replied.

"Where in the heck did you get it?" Smush demanded, barely containing his laughter.

"I scalped a mannequin down at the department store," Mogey said proudly. "Doesn't it look top notch?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 523

"Mogey, what have you got in that file cabinet underneath your workbench?" Smush asked, abrubtly looking up from his work at the offices of Mogush-Smugey Enterprises.

"Files..." Mogey said, his eyes darting about guiltily.

"Mogey..." Smush prodded.

"Ok, ok, I admit it," Mogey wailed. "There are no files! The drawer is just full of Bit-O-Honey bars and peanut M&Ms! But what was I supposed to do, Smush? My Aunt Helga gave me that file cabinet for my birthday last year."

"Why don't you just put some files in it?"

"We sell eyes of newt and ideas for bad dreams to the witches in town, Smush," Mogey said, rolling his eyes. "There's not exactly a whole lot of paperwork involved."