"Lock the door, ye madman!" Smush shouted when Mogey returned home. "Don't you know who's on the loose?"
"On the loose?" asked Mogey. "I want to say 'the moose,' but I can tell from your tone that wouldn't be correct. Instead I will guess 'the goose.'"
"He's no goose," said Smush, "and he's certainly no moose. In fact it's Sweepens Rex."
"The famed prowler? How did he escape from Slippery Greg's House for 'Rehabilitation' of the Criminally Insane?"
"No one knows. Although I suspect Slippery Greg isn't completely aboveboard. I've always wondered why his billboard out on Route 3 has 'Rehabilitation' in quotation marks."
"Be reasonable, Smush," Mogey replied. "If we can't trust a man who puts his own name - Slippery Greg - on his business, who can we tr--"
"Shhh!" Smush urged. "What is that... sweeping sound?"
The pals peeked out the window to observe a hooded figure on their front stoop. He had two brooms in each hand and another broom strapped to each of his legs. (Six brooms in all.) He appeared to be waltzing around and the around the stoop, sweeping as he went.
"It's him," Mogey breathed. "Quick - let's escape out the back!"
The pals ran - well, waddled quickly - to their rear entryway and stole outside. As they were about to descend the porch steps, Mogey froze.
"What is it?" Smush asked.
"The porch - it's clean. Intensely clean. Free of chicken bones, even. And I had chicken wings last Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I think Sweepens Rex has already been out here!"
"So he just... swept our back porch and moved on to the front?" Smush suggested. "Could it be that Sweepens Rex is simply misunderstood? Perhaps he just wants to rid the world of garbage."
"How dare you suggest that my chicken bones are garbage? There was still a decent amount of meat on those bad boys! I struggle to imagine what a prowler could do that would possibly, in any universe be worse than throwing stuff away that doesn't belong to him."
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