The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 622

On the night of what was to be the "Storm of the Century," Mogey and Smush were hunkered down, hoping against hope that the wind wouldn't blow the roof off their chicken coop... again. Every time the roof had flown off before, eight or nine chickens had gone with it, and being that these were soft-boiled egg laying chickens, they weren't easily replaced. So far, however, the Storm of the Century had brought no rain and scarcely a breath of wind.

"Who did you hear about this storm from, again?" Smush asked Mogey in their makeshift storm shelter (a quilt hung between two folding chairs).

"Brambles Bergeron," Mogey replied. "He sent out warnings to all the neighbors."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Mogey and Smush answered it to find none other than Brambles Bergeron himself on their doorstep.

"Hiya fellahs," Brambles said, "aren't you coming on down to my 'Storm of the Century' party? The whole neighborhood is there."

"For goodness sakes, Mogey," Smush exclaimed. "It was a party invitation? He thought you had sent out a warning to prepare for an actual storm," he told Brambles.

"But didn't you notice that it said to bring beef jerky and delicious beverages?" Brambles asked.

"I thought those were emergency supplies and that we were all supposed to gather on the high ground at your barn," Mogey said.

"In that case, why didn't we go to Brambles' place anyway?" Smush asked.

"Listen, I didn't wait on line for the most choice cuts of beef jerky in town just to share it with a bunch of slow pokes. If I weather out this storm, I'm going to do it in my blanket fort while munching my beef jerky."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 621

"What are you doing, Mogey?" Smush asked as Mogey showed up with his face covered in flour.

"I'm not Mogeyyyyyy," Mogey replied in an eerie voice. "I'm Senor Spooooooky Mannnnn." 

"Ok. So why do you have..."

"Spooooooooky!"

"...flour all over your..."

"Spoooooooooooooooooooooooooky!"

"Goodness gracious," Smush exclaimed after his pal had interrupted him for the second time. "I know some people get into the Halloween spirit, but Senor Spooky Man is a bit much."

"What? Halloween?" Mogey demanded, snapping completely out of character. "I had no idea it was Halloween! Senor Spooky Man was just a hilarious, hilarious prank I was pulling on you. I need to get going! Some of the best trick-or-treating houses will already be out of candy." 

"No, Mogey, Halloween isn't until next week," Smush tried to say, but it was too late. Mogey was long gone, leaving only a smokey cloud of all purpose flour in his wake.  

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 620

On a cool spring day, Mogey and Smush stood in front of the newly completed Jim "Jiminy-Jim-Jim" Jaroo Memorial Geodesic Dome, munching on corn dogs as they admired the craftsmanship.

"Say, what's the difference between concrete and cement, anyway?" Mogey asked.

"Cement is an ingredient in concrete," Smush replied knowledgeably. "So you would say that dome is made from concrete, not cement."

"Sort of like how all rectangles are circles, but not all circles are squares?"

"Not even slightly."

"Ah," Mogey said. "Good corn dogs though, eh?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 619

"What are you doing? You're going to be freezing," Smush groaned as Mogey met him out front to attend the ice-carving festival wearing only his shirt sleeves. "Put on a coat, will you?"

"Alriiiiiiight," Mogey replied, stomping back inside the gypsy caravan where he lived with six turtles and an owl named Blumbus.

Smush waited for his pal by a rickety pickety fence, idly imagining the magnificent ice sculptures they would see that night: ice bears, ice flower gardens, ice castles, and perhaps, if they were lucky, an ice Jon Bon Jovi. 

"How's this?" Mogey asked, emerging from the caravan dripping with what appeared to be white paint.

"Not good, Mogey, not good..." Smush said, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head slowly.

"Why? I put on a fresh coat, just like you asked."

"I wanted you to put on an article of clothing, not a coat of paint! How would that even keep you warm?"

"Next time you'll just have to be more specific," Mogey replied. "And I'll have you know that I'm quite cozy inside this layer of Eggshell No. 4."

"Now that we've got that settled, go put on a jacket," Smush insisted. "And I swear to the god of meatball sangwiches that if you come out here wearing a book jacket or something, I'll throw you into Gorgeous George's Gorge of Gore."

"Don't be silly, Smush," Mogey said. "I don't own any books."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 618

"Why the long face, Mogey?" Smush asked as Mogey stomped into his study, dragging his feet and flopping his arms about like a Portuguese noodle maker.

"You're typewriter is broken," Mogey replied.

"What? That's terrible! What's wrong with it?"

"Every time I try to use it, the dang thing slaps a bunch of letters on the page." 

"I see," Smush said, relaxing. "And what were you expecting it to do?"

"Umm, well," Mogey began contemptuously, "as the name implies, I expected it to tie, pry, or tear, not make it look like I'm trying to write some kind of... words." 

"Why do you want to tie, pry, or tear a sheet of paper anyway?"

"I wanted to tear a piece of paper in half in order to make Nellie Peterson a birthday card. Fat chance of that happening now - the paper I bought is all covered in letters and what-not like I'm some kind of an algebraticionary scholar of language over here."