The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2025 Edition - Episode 51

One yuletide feast, Mogey and Smush were wrapping up their fifth helpings of roast beast and Christmas pie, et cetera, et cetera. As they picked the literal bones, the pals fell to one of their favorite traditions: picking metaphorical bones. 

"I've got one," Smush announced. "Christmas--"

"Ah ah ah," Mogey interrupted. "Don't forget to pick a bone while you're picking that bone!"

"Right, sorry," Smush said, grabbing a joint of beef off the table. "Now then," he went on, around a mouthful of beef debris, "Christmas candy. Gumdrops? What is that? Chewing gum that fell out of someone's mouth and into a bowl of sugar?" 

"I don't think that's how--"

"A waste of good sugar, I say! And candy canes? These maniacal confectioners take sweet sweet sugar and make it all stripey and spicy."

"Spicy? I'm not sure that's--"

"Don't get me started on sugar plums, neither," Smush continued. "It's like... they had delicious delectable sugar and... wrecked it with nasty plums."

"That one I cannot disagree with," Mogey replied. "Excellent pick of the bone. It's like that famous poem: merry Christmas to all and to all and to all a good gripe!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2025 Edition - Episode 50

One frosty December evening, Mogey and Smush were trudging home from the public house after several servings of potted meat, an array of cheese pots, and a couple of pots de creme. As they crested a snow-robed ridge, Mogey spoke:

"What do you suppose they are?" he asked, gazing into the sky.

"The stars?" Smush rejoined, glancing up at the twinkling points of light. "They're the scattered diamonds of Scurvy Biggins, pirate of the sky. Everyone knows that."

"I know, I know," said Mogey. "I remember Mrs. Bomboloni's 3rd grade class as clearly as you do. But sometimes I'm not so sure."

"Well what explanation have you?"

"Maybe this is the potted meat talking," Mogey explained, "but what if they're other suns, just like the sun we see in the daytime, except really really tiny?" 

Understanding awakened in Smush's mind the way a bag of drill bits dropped from a rooftop job site might awaken Nap Snoozeman (the world's worst construction worker) from a doze underneath the scaffolding. 

"By golly, Mogey, you might have something there!" he exclaimed. "It's pure genius! Just one question though: what was Scurvy Biggins, pirate of the sky, doing with all them mini suns?" 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2025 Edition - Episode 49

As Mogey and Smush were strolling down the high street of Bigbum-on-Puddle one afternoon, they happened upon a new shop. Park's Amusements: Every Game from A-Z read the sign in the front window. This sign confused Mogey and Smush, and in their confusion they became grumpy, so the pals strode into the shop with a head of steam. 

"Are you the proprietor here?" Mogey demanded of the man behind the counter.

"I certainly am, welcome in--" 

"What is the meaning of your sign out front?" Smush inquired, pounding a fist on the desk to let the store-owner know he meant business. (And then subsequently nursing a bruised hypothenar eminence.) 

"Ah," replied the man with a smile. "I may have tried to be a bit too clever with the name. I'm Park, you see. My name is Nash N. L. Park and this is my shop." 

"And what about all this 'every game' business?" Mogey pressed. 

"We've got an excellent selection of board games, puzzles, and more. That's why we say we've got every game from A-to-Zed."

"A-to-Zed?" Smush exclaimed. 

"Apologies," Mr. Park said. "That's what we called it where I grew up. I should say A-to-Zee." 

"I still don't understand," Mogey rejoined. "Supposing I was looking to purchase a vintage copy of Crossfire or Stratego... would I have to sing the alphabet or summat?" 

"Nothing of the sort!" assured Mr. Park. "It's just an expression. And we've got both the standard and deluxe editions of Crossfire just behind you there."

"Hmm. What can you tell me about your selection of Pretty Pretty Princess boards?" Smush requested. Then, as if suddenly remembering something important, he began to sing. "A, B, C, D, E, F, G..."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2025 Edition - Episode 48

"Mogey! Mogey! Come quickly!" Smush shrieked. 

Mogey stumbled into the kitchen to find his pal robed in a robe, fresh out of the Saturday night bath barrel, and looking more anguished than a zookeeper who realizes the monkeys and sea lions have teamed up, and are just one bird ally away from launching a full air, sea, and land attack. 

"What is it?" Mogey exclaimed.

"My hands! They're all... raison-like. Do ye think it's fatal?"

"For the love of mustard, Smush! How long has it been since you've had a bath?" 

"A month or two," Smush replied. "Why do ye ask?" 

"For the love of mustard, Smush! Stop saying 'ye!'" 

"I'll stop saying 'ye' if you stop saying 'for the love of mustard.' Deal?" 

"Deal," Mogey agreed. "And I asked about your last bath because it's clearly been so long that you've forgotten all about getting wrinkly fingers. I daresay that's longer than a month or two. In fact... Sir Isaac!" 

"Yes, m'lord?" squeaked a mouse wearing glasses who'd just popped out of a hole in the kitchen fireplace: Sir Isaac Shrewton, the mouse with the photographic memory.

"Sir Isaac, how long does it take a person of... erm... moderate-to-fair intelligence to forget a basic truth such as the fact that prolonged water immersion leads to pruney fingers?" Mogey asked.

"Actually sir, most academic research suggests memory has nothing to do with intelligence, although there was one quite intriguing study that--"

"Yadda yadda yadda," Smush interrupted. "Out with it, Shrewton!" 

"My best estimate is somewhere between eight months and four years," Sir Isaac Shrewton answered.

"So I missed a couple... hundred baths," Smush said. "So what? My question to you, Shrewton, is how close are we to developing a cure to these unsightly crinkles?"