"Have you any plans this afternoon?" Mogey asked from behind the morning paper.
"Not really," Smush replied. "I was thinking of hanging around Farmer Buxby's honesty stall until he closes it up. Sometimes he chucks me a couple of free eggs. What about you?"
"Oh... me? No. No plans. Nothing at all in the old calendaroni," Mogey said.
"Uh huh--"
"You know what we could do?" Mogey interrupted. "Says here there's a performance by the world famous Famiglia Fantoccio marionette troupe down at the Palladium."
"Nope! No thank you. No more puppet shows. Not after last time."
"Come now, Smush. That was the old me! I'd never get up to such childish antics nowadays. Besides, the Famiglia Fantoccio advertisement also notes they'll have ten cent pickled eggs - you won't find those at Buxby's honesty stall!"
"Alright!" Smush acquiesced. "I'll do it for the eggs. But - and I really mean it, old chum - you had better not even THINK about 'Senor Queso' making an appearance."
From the moment the curtain went up that afternoon, the audience was enthralled. The Famiglia Fantoccio performers used their intricate marionette creations to weave a moving story of longing, betrayal, and sick dance moves. And the pickled eggs tasted divine.
At last the play reached its denouement, a heartbreaking ballad sung by the story's heroine.
"And though I fall," sang La Contessa Feroce, "I may hope you live on! For the death of this war... is the breaking of the--"
"CHEEEEEEEEEEEEESE!" a voice in the balcony bellowed, upstaging the puppeteer's final note. Every eye in the Palladium swiveled toward the offender, a crude sock puppet with googly eyes and a pink mohawk. This rude creature sat upon the fist of none other than Mogey.
"Oh no," groaned Smush.
"That's right!" the sock puppet continued. "Senor Queso is back and cheesier than ever!"
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