The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 604

In Mogey and Smush's time, there was no sunblock, so any wimp who didn't want to get sunburned was forced to slather some other self-devised substance onto his skin. Since Mogey and Smush were well known wimps, they had tried all manner of methods to protect their tender skin.

"I've got a new one," Smush told Mogey one morning when it had already begun to feel scorchingly hot. "Whole wheat flour."

"Ehh, I'm going to stick with the method we used last time."

"You can't be serious! We were horribly uncomfortable the entire day, and both of us ended up redder than a dweeb's face at a babe party."

"I think it deserves another shot," Mogey insisted.

"Mogey," Smush said, putting an arm around his pal, "I have to be honest with you: Covering ourselves in molasses was one of the worst ideas we've ever had."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 603

While swinging on the neighborhood swing set one afternoon, Mogey suddenly decided that it was high time he set a new distance record for swing-jumping. Smush, who was swinging nearby, saw the gleam in his pal's eye.

"I know what you're thinking right now, Mogey," Smush said, "but don't do it. Jumping off of swings can be very dangersome."

"Bah," Mogey replied. "What could happen?" 

Just then, a grizzly bear with broader shoulders than an elephant bodybuilder wandered onto the playground. Mogey tried to abort his jump, but it was too late: He sailed through the air and landed with a thud atop the bear's rump.

"I told you jumping was dangerous," Smush called.

"Get off of me!" snarled the bear, who was grumpy after a long day of digging for tubers and eating an insane amount of salmon.

"Of course, of course," Mogey replied. "But it appears you're headed toward Main Street. Would it be alright if I stayed aboard as far as the empanada shack?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 602

On a cool fall afternoon in Big Tony's Muffin Shop, Mogey and Smush got into one of the most epic disagreements in the history of their friendship. It began with a difference of opinion over whether peach muffins are superior to lemon poppyseed and evolved into a furious wrestling match within minutes.

Before Mogey and Smush had much of a chance to tussle on the muffin shop floor however, they were separated by Big Tony himself, a mountain of a man who wore sleeveless t-shirts almost exclusively.

"Oy!" Big Tony shouted, holding the combatants apart fairly easily. "Settle down! I know how passionate you boys are about muffins, but we have a way of settling disagreements in this establishment. It's called dueling banjos."

Mogey and Smush agreed to play it by house rules and waited while one of the busboys fetched a pair of banjos. After they tuned the instruments carefully, Big Tony announced, "Ready? Annnnnnd, banjo!"

Smush began carefully picking out an old folk tune about potato miners, but Mogey immediately charged forward and smashed his banjo over Smush's head, showering the muffin shop with pieces of wood and canvas.

"The new dueling banjo champion of the world!" Mogey exclaimed, strutting around the shop with his arms raised high and making fake crowd noises. "Let no man ever doubt that peach muffins are the greatest muffins in all the land!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 601

One beautiful summer day, Mogey and Smush sat in the hayfield eating sunflower seeds and reminiscing over their glory days playing ball.

"You ever hit a grand slam?" Smush asked.

"No," Mogey replied, "but I did hit a 'great slam' one time against the Chumsburg Piemakers."

"What's that?"

"A great slam?" Mogey said. "That's the one where you hit a foul ball that knocks down the hot dog man. If you get him just right, every clever fan in that section gets a free hot dog."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 600

Over the years since his male pattern baldness had become male total baldness, Mogey had tried all manner of contrivances to disguise his shiny noggin. He'd worn hooded jackets and cowboy hats, rubbed red pepper on his scalp before bedtime, and even once eaten a soft-boiled duck egg by the light of the full moon.

Nothing worked, and eventually, Mogey always came back around to the idea of wearing a wig, an idea from which Smush tirelessly discouraged him. 

"Wigs don't work in a small town," Smush would tell him.

"But why?" Mogey would ask.

"Just think about it," Smush would reply.

Mogey did think about it. Hard. But he never understood why wearing a wig would be any different in their little village than in a big city. After massaging pickle juice into his temples every night for a week without so much as a sprout of hair to show for it, Mogey had had enough. He went down to Elmer Wiggington's Hairpiece Corner and returned that very afternoon with a magnificent mane of auburn locks.

"Wigs don't work in a small town," Smush said, but this time Mogey ignored him.

That night, Mogey and Smush repaired to the Pork Barrel Classic hoedown, and who should they spot upon entering but Charlotte O'Hare, the prettiest gal in town. Mogey had been desperately in love with Charlotte for at least a dozen fortnights, but he never would've had the courage to speak to her with his old bald dome. Now, however, he went straight up to the lass, bowed, and asked respectfully for the next dance.

"Sheesh, Mogey," Charlotte O'Hare exclaimed, laughing uproariously, "that is some wig!"

"How do you know it's a wig?" Mogey asked.

"Why, I saw you yesterday. This is an awfully small town after all. I know full well that you're balder than the broad side of a barn!"