The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 520

After Mogey and Smush's farmhouse was burgled for the 2nd time in 3 weeks (thieves had taken their great-grandfather's golden pocketwatch AND a top secret experimental recipe for raisin buns), the two pals decided they needed to invest in some home protection. So they strapped Jasper, their strongest donkey, to the cart and made their way down to Enormo-mart.

Smush procured a map and an official Enormo-mart sherpa and began exploring the wide array of ninja stars the store had to offer. After a bit, Mogey came around the corner pushing a shopping trolley loaded to the gills with pens, pencils, and ink.

"What are you doing with all those pens, Mogey?" Smush asked, glancing up from a Gizzard Slicer 5000.

"You know how they say that the pen is mightier than the sword?" Mogey said.

"Yes, I suppose I do," Smush replied, chuckling to himself. He knew his pal well enough to follow this line of thought to its obvious conclusion.

"I'm going to load these bad boys up with angry bees and hang them over all the doorways," Mogey continued. "Then I'll spray the next unlucky burgler who enters our house with stolen honey. My wrath will descend on him like the hammer of Thor."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 519

"I don't know why everyone says it's so hard to ride a bucking bronco," Mogey said, removing his cowboy hat and using his shirt sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow. "That was the second-easiest thing I ever did in my life."

"What was first?" Smush inquired.

"Deciding whether or not to have a third slice of sweet potato pie last night."

"Of course," Smush replied, nodding sagely. "Well, it was quite a ride."

"I just can't get over it," Mogey said. "All these big tough guys with their spurs, and their moustaches, and their arrays of fine soaps and lotions, are always complaining about the fearsome bucking broncos. How they put their lives in danger; how they need clowns to save them after they get bucked off. I just rode that bucking bronco better than any of 'em on my first try! What's the deal, wisest Smush?"

"I'm not sure," Smush answered. "Although it could be that the big tough guys you speak of ride actual bucking broncos, whereas you just hopped on a horse-shaped spring rider at the playground."

"Nah," Mogey said assuredly. "That can't be it."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 518

Mogey was in the market for a new pipe, and so he and Smush packed a burlap sack full of peanut butter, fluff, and bacon sangwiches and headed into town. Spotting a respectable looking establishment called Corncob Robert's House o' Pipes, the two pals stepped inside to see what they could see.

"Good afternoon!" bellowed the bearded, bespectacled, bulbous proprieter when they entered.

"Hello there, old bean," Smush replied. "Be you Corncob Robert?"

"That I am," he answered. "But please, call me Cob Bob - everyone does. What can I do for you fine sirs?"

"Sheesh, Cob Bob," Mogey said, breaking into a fit of giggles. "My old pipe has worn out and I'm in dire need of a new one." At least, that's what Mogey had been telling everyone. In actual fact, Mogey had never smoked a pipe in his life and didn't, technically speaking, know which end of a pipe went in one's mouth. But he thought being a pipe smoker sounded awfully sophisticated to the ladies.

"Well as you can see, we've got a fine selection here," Cob Bob explained. "What sort of pipe are you looking for?"

"How much are these Southington numbers on the top shelf?" Smush asked.

"Five pieces of silver," Cob Bob replied. "Or, if you prefer, one medium-to-large laying hen and a book of brainteasers."

"Sheesh, Cob Bob," Mogey said, laughing even harder this time. "That's a pretty steep price. What else have you got?"

"The clay pipes are quite nice," said Cob Bob, looking a bit put off. "They'll only run you two pieces of silver or an exceptionally creepy jack-in-the-box."

"Sheesh--," Mogey began, but Cob Bob had grabbed him by the shirt collar and hauled him up onto the counter.

"If you say Sheesh Cob Bob one more time," Cob Bob growled, "I swear on the life of my pet penguin's unborn child that I will not sell you a pipe today, nor until the end of time."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 517

"Top of the morning to you, Mogey," Smush said as he slid down the spiral tube slide that led from his bedchamber to his and Mogey's secret food pantry in the cellar of the Dexter School for Troublemaking Lads. "What are your plans for this fine St. Patrick's Day?"

"Well," replied Mogey, delicately spearing a fried mackerel with his fork and biting its head off, "as you may or may not know, I have two St. Patrick's Day traditions."

"I did not know that," Smush said. This wasn't entirely true: he did, in fact, know that Mogey had two St. Patrick's Day "traditions," but he also knew that said "traditions" changed each and every year.

"Firstly, I save a snake's life," Mogey expounded. "St. Patrick, as you are probably aware, was quite fond of snakes. After I'm in possession of the rescued snake, I sneak into Miss March's Academy for Shrill Girls and set it loose in the coatroom. You've never seen such havoc in your life!"

"Did St. Patrick have it out for shrill girls," Smush asked, "or what?"

"No, no," Mogey said, still chuckling to himself, "the first tradition is for St. Patrick, the second one is solely for me."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 516

"Silence is paramount," Mogey whispered to Smush as they crept along. "Even the slightest noise could alert the enemy to our presence."

He was right, of course, for Mogey and Smush were en route to steal one of Missus Abernathy's crumble top mincemeat pies. The mission was more difficult than it might seem - Missus Abernathy was in her eighties and blinder than a mole baby, but she was known to fire her crossbow out the window without warning if she suspected pie thieves were about.

Smush nodded seriously and the pals scampered through Missus Abernathy's back garden, only stopping once they were crouched below the windowsill where several pies sat cooling.

Smush gave Mogey the previously agreed-upon hand signal (rock horns) and Mogey got to his feet and quickly removed the crumble top mincemeat pie from the windowsill. He and Smush had begun to creep stealthily away, when Mogey stepped on a stray ostrich egg that had rolled into the yard. The egg issued a loud crack, followed by an even louder splat, and almost instantly, Missus Abernathy was at the window with the crossbow at her shoulder.

"Who goes there?" Missus Abernathy demanded, cocking her head in the direction of the now-frozen Mogey and Smush. They could see hundreds of tiny pies with X's through them carved into the handle of the crossbow - one for every pie thief she had iced. "I'll tan your hides and put you in my next pie, I say!" she shouted.

Missus Abernathy felt around the windowsill with her spare hand, apparently assuming that the pie thieves had gone.

"Ah well, they've only gotten the crumble top mincemeat," she muttered. "Thank goodness they didn't take my strawberry-gooseberry. That's the true winner of the bunch."

As Missus Abernathy wandered away from the window, Mogey and Smush exchanged a significant look. They knew that either the strawberry-gooseberry pie would be theirs, or they'd get a crossbow quarrel to the hip flexer trying. And no pie ever tasted so good as that strawberry-gooseberry one did when Mogey and Smush finally devoured it in the waiting room outside Saint Ignacious Memorial Crossbow Wound Treatment Center.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 515

After a long afternoon of hunting wooly mammoths, giant bison, and winged woodchucks, Smush returned home to his tipi, excited to check in on his brand new, tricked out aquarium. The aquarium was a glistening, 50 gallon job that Smush had spent months stocking with exotic fish and crustaceans from around the globe.

No sooner had Smush opened his tipi flap than he saw Mogey inside with his feet propped up on the table, dangling a fishing pole into the aquarium.

"What are you doing in my tipi, Mogey?" Smush demanded angrily.

"Fishin'," Mogey replied lazily. "Check it out, I've already caught three of the little orange ones, six of the silvery funny looking ones, and even this miniature crab. A couple more and we should have enough for a fish kabob. Ho ho ho."

"Why in the world would you go fishing in an aquarium when there's a perfectly good river outside teaming with rainbow trout?" Smush asked.

"Because these ones are so little and delicious-looking," Mogey said. "I don't think you quite understand, Smush. I'm making a fish kabob. You know, like 'shish kabob.'"

"How could you do such a thing?" Smush asked. "I put my heart and soul into that aquarium."

"Sheesh, don't be so selfish, Smush," Mogey muttered, turning back to his fishing pole. "I just caught you dinner for goodness sakes."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 514

One hazy spring afternoon, Mogey and Smush got into one of the most heated arguments of their long friendship. The pals simply could not agree on what sort of apple trees they should plant in their orchard.

"What about Granny Smith apples?" Smush ventured.

"No way, Jose," Mogey replied. "My Grandpa Smith told me that Granny Smiths were pure evil! I'm partial to a red delicious - what say you to that?"

"Ugh, more like 'red disgusting,'" Smush said. "I know: we could plant some mcintoshes."

"I would rather consume a sandwich made out of cabbage, mayonnaise, and your neck hairs than eat a mcintosh apple," Mogey asserted.

"Well what does it matter?" Smush said finally. "These trees won't have apples on them for a dozen years or more."

"A dozen years?" Mogey demanded. "But that's an eternity! Next thing you're going to tell me that they won't be covered in caramel when we pick them!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 513

On a journey to Far Off Figgington, Mogey and Smush came upon an old, rickety rope bridge that spanned a gorge deep enough to hold 800,000 killer whales who had just eaten 800,000 other killer whales. The bridge's slats were missing in places, rotten in others, and at some points, blatantly made of such substandard building materials as cloth diapers and hot pocket boxes.

"What say you, Mogey?" Smush said, staring out at the bridge.

"Be not afraid," Mogey replied serenely. "She'll hold us."

"I'm not so sure," said Smush. "It looks awfully rickety out there."

"Be not afraid, Smush," Mogey repeated. "Trust in the map - it told us to come this way."

Without replying, Smush hefted a rock no bigger than a midget's fist and lobbed it toward the middle of the bridge. Issuing no more than a mild creek, all four bridge supports snapped, and the entire contraption plummeted to the depths - slats, ropes, and all.

"It just goes to show that there's truth to that old saying, "Smush said. "Never put too much creedence in a map purchased from a troll wearing overalls."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 512

"Alrighty, the next item on the agenda is ball game snacks," Smush announced, peering down through his spectacles. He was leading a bi-weekly meeting of the "Club of Best," an organization dedicated to deciding the best thing in every imaginable category.

"Do I hear nominations?" Smush continued. "Best ball game snacks?"

"Hot dogs," Mogey suggested.

"Peanuts!" squeaked Vole Richard, one of the more diminutive members of the club.

"Soft pretzels," volunteered Lil' Esquire, their resident rapper/attorney.

"You are all wrong!" shouted Thundercuss the Magnificent, a mighty viking lord who served as club treasurer and bake sale manager. "Nachos are the greatest ball game snack!"

"I think Thundercuss makes some good points," Smush said nervously. "Are we in agreement that nachos are the best food at a ball game?"

"Aye," said the entire assemblage in a shaky unison, causing Thundercuss the Magnificent to look very pleased indeed.

"I thought he was off his rocker when he made us vote Marmaduke the best comic strip of all time," Mogey whispered to Lil' Esquire. "But nachos at a ball game? That Thundercuss is killing us!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 511

As young lads, Mogey and Smush often yearned to do something illegal. Some of their pals were known to steal zebras from the zoo and race them down busy thoroughfares; others would snag a nip of moonshine from Old Man Crankus when he was napping on his front porch. The bravest and foolhardiest of all would play pranks on Missus Lamb, the owner of the penny candy store, who was known to pull a 12-gauge shotgun out of her hoopskirts at the slightest provocation.

Mogey and Smush didn't like the sounds of all that, but it became a source of great shame that they had yet to break a single law, rule, or ordinance. So when they happened upon what appearred to be an illegal animal fighting ring down by the creek, they mustered their courage and stepped inside.

The operation was housed inside a musty, semi-permanent tent, inside of which dozens of bearded, burly men stood about, shouting, exchanging money, and generally roughhousing. Mogey and Smush, being small of stature (if not of girth) were able to squeeze their way, mostly undetected, to the edge of the ring.

"What in the world are those things?" Mogey asked as they peered into the battle arena.

"I haven't the foggiest idea," Smush replied.

Inside a wooden circle stood two creatures that looked like throw-pillows with stubby arms, stubby legs, and great googily eyes atop their pillow bodies. They were exceptionally adorable. As Mogey and Smush watched, the pillow-creatures waddled slowly toward one another and bumped chests several times until one of them toppled gently to the ground. Half the crowd cheered deliriously, while the other half audibly murmered "Awwwww."

"Sir?" Smush asked, tugging on the sleeve of a nearby man. "What are we watching?"

"Pillah fight," the man grunted, wiping tears of joy from his eyes. "Ain't they adorable?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 510

"Doughnut machine repairman!"

Never had three words sounded to sweet to Smush (although "chicken fried cheese" was a close second). He bustled down the hall at his fastest bustle when he heard the repairman at the front door.

"Oh thank heavens!" Smush cried, embracing the very surprised-looking repairman on the front steps. "Our doughnut machine's been broken almost a full day! I do believe the gears may be jammed with peanut butter and chocolate ganache."

Smush showed the repairman their piteously wounded doughnut machine, then led him around back, where Mogey was playing solitaire and mournfully munching a stale bagel.

"Now Mogey and I are the meddling sort," Smush said, "and we'll probably make your job twice as difficult if we're not distracted somehow. So I'm going to turn on this sprinkler, which should keep us well-occupied as you fix our doughnut-maker."

"You know, Smush, I can hear everything you're saying. A silly old sprinkler isn't going to BAAHAHAHA!" Mogey collapsed into a fit of giggles as the sprinkler came on and began sweeping back and forth over the lawn.

"So should I..." the doughnut machine repairman began to ask, but he realized Smush was no longer standing next to him. Smush was rolling around beneath the sprinkler, laughing like a ticklish Frenchman.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 509

On a typical morning in the fantastic land of Fleegelflugal, Mogey and Smush rode their Powerwheels trucks through a field of whistling teakettles, a forest of bright purple trees, and a very brief shower of fingerling potatoes. As they crested a hill they encountered a horse who had what appeared to be an ear of corn strapped to its head.

"Nay!" the horse hollered, in possibly the least intimidating voice of all time. "Nay! NAY!"

"Excuse me, sir," Smush said, addressing the horse, "but can we help you somehow?"

"Yes!" the horse replied. "I'm a unicorn and you're in my territory. And I don't like it! Not one bit."

"Don't unicorns have horns?" Mogey asked.

"Common misconception," the unicorn responded. "Those ugly, one horn things are actually uni-horns. Every real unicorn has a big ol' ear of corn growing out of his forehead."

"I see," Smush said. "Well it's much less scary than a horn, isn't it?"

"It may be now," said the unicorn, "but if I pop these corn kernels, this bad boy will nearly triple in size! Now I don't suppose either of you gentlemen has a hair dryer I could borrow for a moment?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 508

Mogey and Smush had been working as snailers for two weeks. It was a good job: the pay was fair, they got to work outdoors, and the foreman sang selections from Sweating to the Oldies all the live long day.

One day, as it came time for lunch, the men assembled in front of a large tureen on the back of the wagon to receive their daily rations.

"Snail chowder?" the foreman offered when Mogey's turn came round.

"Snail chowder!" Mogey shrieked girlishly. "You don't meant to tell me that all these snails we've been gathering are for eatin, do you?"

"Liver n' henfeathers, Mogey," Smush muttered behind him. "Of all the things to say...."

"Well of course they're for eatin, lad," the foreman said. "What'd you think they was for?"

"I always thought people brought the snails into work with them, because they're so slow, see?" Mogey stated matter-of-factly. "That way they look like they're working harder by comparison. Sort of like what we do with Chubby Eddy over there."

"Phew," Chubby Eddy said, mopping his brow as he finally returned from his 10 AM coffee break. "What a day, what a day, what a day."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 507

On an evening as clear and cool as a mildly refrigerated jellyfish, Mogey and Smush found themselves out in their field weeding the beans. An infestation of Puerto Rican Mudflup - an insidious weed that could spring up in a matter of hours - threatened to wipe out their entire bean crop if they didn't get rid of it. And without beans, Mogey and Smush would be unable to make the mainstay of their entire diet: baked beans.

So the two pals weeded and weeded til they could weed no more. Finally they had reached the point of exhaustion and were near collapsing when they heard a loud, gravelly voice.

"Looks like you boys need a professional weeder."

The voice belonged to a tall, slim man sitting atop the rock wall with one of his feet propped up beside him and the other dangling toward the ground. He wore an old straw hat that hid his face, and a long piece of uncooked spaghetti was clenched firmly between his teeth.

"Wh-Who are you, mister?" Smush stammered as Mogey shrank toward him in fear.

"The name's Tater," the man replied, pushing back his hat, "Buck Tater."

"Well since you asked," Smush said, "we could use a man who knows how to pull some weeds. Care to join us?"

"Right on," Buck Tater answered, hopping down from the rock wall to inspect the field. "Now what you've got here is a serious case of Puerto Rican Mudflup," he continued. "And if there's one thing I know about Puerto Rican Mudflup, it's that they love ukulele music."

With that, Buck Tater produced a ukulele as if by magic and began to strum it lazily. One by one, the weeds loosened from the ground, finally popping out of the ground with a sound like a cork coming out of a bottle. Using their roots as legs, the Puerto Rican Mudflups walked out of the beanrows and followed Buck Tater as he walked toward the rising sun with a smile on his face and a ukulele in his arms.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 506

Mogey and Smush's great dream in life since they were young rapscallions was to own a fountain. So they had set out to make their fortunes selling hedgehog hats, with the final goal of the fountain always in their minds. The hedgehog hats were made for hedgehogs, not from hedgehogs, a distinction Mogey and Smush found themselves spending the overwhelming majority of their time explaining. There was not much demand for hedgehog hats, you see, but there was also not much competition.

Finally, on a sunny afternoon in late October, Mogey and Smush had sold just enough hedgehog hats to afford a grand fountain for their front garden, so they asked Vasily Graham, the fountain man, to come out and take a look.

"Aye, you've got a plenty strong foundation here for a double decker fountain if I just put down a bit of flagstone," Vasily Graham said.

"Where would the cheese be stored?" Mogey asked. His question was flatly ignored by both Smush and Vasily.

"And you could bury the hose?" Smush queried.

"Oh easily, yes," said Vasily. "Now will you be wanting to run this in the Winter?"

"How often will we need to restock the cheese?" Mogey asked. Again he was dismissed outright.

"In the Winter, oh yes," Smush replied to Vasily. "How difficult is that to do?"

"I DEMAND TO KNOW ABOUT THE CHEESE!" Mogey shouted finally.

"What in the world are you on about?" Smush asked. "What cheese?"

"The cheese that's going to come out of the fountain," Mogey said, looking slightly crestfallen. "We're not just getting in ordinary old water fountain, are we? After all these years, I just assumed it was a cheese fountain we were after."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 505

One afternoon, Mogey and Smush had one of their rip-roarin'-est, name-calling-est, eye-poking-est arguments of all time. The altercation had begun when Smush beat Mogey in a hard fought game of Pretty Pretty Princess, after which Mogey had called Smush a cheat and belittled his collection of Snapple caps. It had turned ugly then, because Smush, normally so even-tempered, would not have the good name of his Snapple cap collection dragged through the mud.

They had both stormed off to their respective bedchambers and hadn't seen each other for three whole days, when they encountered one another in the parlor.

"Good day, Mogey," Smush ventured in a stilted voice, glancing up from his newspaper.

"Good day to you as well, Smush," Mogey replied. "How are you this fine afternoon?"

"Just peachy," Smush said, to which Mogey muttered something in return. "What was that?" Smush demanded.

"I said, 'you wish,'" Mogey repeated haughtily, knowing in his heart that his next few words would undoubtedly lead to fisticuffs. "'Peachy?' Ha! More like nectarine-y. I saw you try to grow a moustache last year and your face stayed smoother than the beats of Big Tumbo Rasta-man, the childlike reggae sensation."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 504

One day, Mogey and Smush were waddling - and, on downhill sections of the path, rolling - to the fruit roll-up stand in town, when they were stopped dead in their tracks by a Tyrannosaurus Rex. The T-Rex was twenty feet tall if he was an inch, and he turned toward Mogey and Smush, baring teeth as long as six nutter butters laid end to end.

Mogey and Smush could tell from the glint in the T-Rex's eye and and the drool on his chin that the monster had plans to devour our pudgy heroes. Gaping his mouth impossibly wide, the T-rex emitted a bone-chilling, bloodcurdling, near-appetite reducing roar.

"Cut that out!" Mogey shouted back at the beast. "You're going to be pretty dino-sore tomorrow if you don't quit that roaring!"

The T-Rex clamped his mouth shut in surprise, then narrowed his eyes menacingly.

"Did you just come up with a pun mocking the creature that's about to eat us?" Smush muttered.

Suddenly the dinosaur threw back his head and began to emit a loud, barking laugh. He laughed so long and so hard that he eventually collapsed onto his back, waving his tiny arms in fits of hilarity.

"Tyrannosauruses love puns, Smush, everyone knows that," Mogey said confidently as he walked around the laughing T-Rex and began once more to make his way toward the fruit roll-up stand. "Honestly, you should get your nose out of the funny pages and into a history book once in a while."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 503

One hot afternoon, Smush headed down to the well for a pail of water. As he neared the bottom of the hill, he saw that Mogey was perched on the well housing with his feet dangling over, hanging a fishing line down into the water.

"Say, Mogey," Smush said as he drew up next to his pal, "what are you fishing for?"

"I'm not fishin," Mogey replied with a sigh. "I went and dropped a croissant down the well again."

"Sheesh," Smush groaned, shaking his head. "When are you going to learn not to lean your croissants over the well like that?"

"Probably never," said Mogey as he reeled up the dripping wet pastry. "I'm just a daredevil like that, I guess."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 502

One cool spring morn, Mogey and Smush were walking along the old rock wall that separated Good Jeremiah Baker's land from Evil Persimmon von Snibb's property. They were playing a game they liked to call "rocks," which consisted of throwing rocks at other rocks in hopes of creating even more rocks.

After Smush had made a particularly nice rock toss, he noticed that Mogey was no longer beside him - he was standing stock still upon the rock wall, completely lost in thought.

"I've got it!" Mogey shouted suddenly, leaping into the air with joy. "I finally know what I'm going to do with my life. I'm going to become a cowpoke."

"A cowpoke?" Smush asked.

"Indeed," Mogey said. "I think I could be the best darn cowpoke that ever there was."

"I'm not entirely convinced that you know what a cowpoke does," Smush ventured. "I bet you think they go around poking cows all day, don't you?"

"I do," Mogey replied. "And there's nothing you can tell me that'll make me think otherwise."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 501

"Geeaaarrrghhoooo!" Mogey yawned hugely, stretching his arms high and then reaching them down as far as he could (almost to upper thigh-level). "It feels good to get out of that attic."

"Too true, Mogey, too true," Smush said as the two pals strode through their house for the first time in months. "I could not have stood one more day in the presence of that Man-Rat."

"What Man-Rat?" Mogey asked, absentmindedly nibbling at a crumb he'd just discovered clinging to his shirt.

"Um, the Man-Rat who just imprisoned us in our own attic for nigh-on one hundred days?" Smush suggested incredulously.

"One hundred days?" Mogey exclaimed. "For goodness sakes, I thought I'd just had a longish nap - a week, two at most."

"How is it possible you don't recall this?" Smush demanded. "A Man-Rat broke into the house whilst we were cleaning the attic - well, I was cleaning and you were snoozing - and held us captive. We've had nary an adventure since!"

"Humpf," Mogey grunted. "I must've slept through it all."

"But you ate your gruel every day!" Smush said. "And usually some of mine as well."

"You know I'm a notorious nap-eater."

"Do you mean to tell me that you also slept through the epic two-hour arm-wrestling match I had with the Man-Rat to win us our freedom not ten minutes ago?" Smush asked disappointedly.

"I guess I did. I just may be the most impressive sleeper in this whole county," Mogey said happily. "Well anyhow, we're back now, aren't we?"

"Yes, I suppose we are," Smush sighed.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 500

One day, Mogey and Smush ventured out on an epic journey to the Frankfurt Fritter Festival. It would take them many days to reach the festival, and so they did not pack lightly, bringing along four fully loaded donkeys and a fully loaded mule for good measure. In addition, both Mogey and Smush carried rucksacks full of every food they knew how to cook, from fried turkey to fried chicken.

The pals began their quest at ten in the morning, so by 10:45 they were understandably famished and looking for a nice spot to take a break.

"That looks like a good place to stop," Mogey said, pointing to a muddy slope dotted with rocks shaped like fists.

"Mogey, I'm not so sure..." Smush began, but it was too late. Mogey was already venturing onto the slick field, where presently he slipped and bonked his nose exceptionally hard on a fist-rock. "Are you all right?" Smush called. "Be you hurt?"

"Doe, I'b fide," Mogey insisted, though his nose hurt worse than a beating from a ghost army.

"I tried to warn you," Smush said as he carefully picked his way out to where his pal lay, nursing a rapidly swelling schnoz, "this is no place for a picnic."

"I stand by by statement," Mogey replied. "This is a good place to stob!"

"A good place to stop indeed," said Smush as he kicked up his feet on a fist-shaped rock, let out a satisfied sigh, and pulled a cold turkey leg from his rucksack.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 499

"I want to be in the band too!" Mogey cried, stomping his foot stubbornly. "You've already got four band members, what's one more?"

Mogey's pleading was met by looks of consternation from Smush's band, The Dumplings, who had gathered down in the cellar to practice. There was Chuck "Pignose" Buddle on drums, Slender Frankie in fiddle, Leopold "The Actuary" Akron on lead guitar, and Smush himself on tambourine.

"I'm sorry Mogey, but you haven't got any talent," Smush explained. "How can we include you when you don't sing, or write music, or play an instrument?"

"That's where you're wrong," Mogey replied. "I do play an instrument - a very unusual one. And what's more, I'm so skilled at this particular instrument that it'll be like having Bernie Montgomery playing harpsichord in your band."

"Who's Bernie Montgomery?" Leopold "The Actuary" Akron asked.

"A very good harpsichord player," said Mogey.

"All right then," Smush said with a sigh, "let's see you play this instrument."

Mogey held up a hand for complete silence, then proceeded to extract a bag of crackers from his back pocket. He crammed his mouth full of these crackers, and began to loudly and enthusiastically crunch them to the tune of When the Saints Go Marching In.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 498

One rainy afternoon, Mogey and Smush were exploring Old Uncle Chester's attic when they came across a dusty typewriter. They were rambunctious lads though, and not very bright, so they hadn't a clue what the device was used for.

"Is it some sort of musical instrument?" Mogey asked.

"It doesn't appear to be," Smush said as he punched away at the keys. "It only makes one sound."

"What about a meat tenderizer?" Mogey wondered.

"Now what sort of meat have you been eating?" Smush said. "No self-respecting steak could fit into that little area. It can't be a meat tenderizer."

"How about--"

"I've got it!" Smush shrieked, frightening some nearby mice so badly that they forgot they weren't bats and leapt from the rafters, landing fortuitously in an open sack of cheez-its. "It's a bug smasher!" Smush elaborated.

"Mmm," Mogey said thoughtfully. "Then what are the letters for?"

"They tell you which button to push for a certain type of bug," Smush replied knowledgeably. "A for ant, B for bee, C for citrus flatid planthopper, and so on."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 497

One still, clear evening in summer Mogey and Smush were setting on the porch with their bluetick hounds, Cartwright and Blubbergums, when the weapons peddler appeared. He drove an old roman chariot pulled by a single ancient-looking moose.

"Deadly instruments here!" the weapons peddler hollered. "The hottest new devices guaranteed to injure, humiliate, and destroy!"

"What are the most popular weapons this year?" Smush asked as he and Mogey stepped off the porch to inspect the peddler's goods.

"Spears are coming back into fashion," the peddler replied. "And I've seen a big increase in sales of these gorgeous dwarf-made battleaxes. But by far, the hottest item of the season has been the brand new, fully redesigned, heavy duty, super powered, fool proof Colombian crossbow."

"See anything you like, Mogey?" Smush asked.

"Nah," said Mogey. "I think I'll stick with my old stand by."

"And, just out of curiosity, what is your particular weapon of choice?" the peddler inquired.

"A six pack of hot dogs at the end of a long chain," Mogey replied. "It's both cheap and effective. You should see the bruises a direct hit from one of those babies leaves."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 496

"Mogey, has the new issue of The Weekly Muskrat arrived yet?" Smush asked one afternoon as Mogey was sifting through the mail.

"No, it appears not," Mogey replied.

"Aw shucks," said Smush.

"Shucks?" Mogey queried excitedly. "Who's shucking? Are you shucking some corn? What are you making? Popcorn? Corn fritters? Corn pone? Oh, please tell me it's corn pone!"

"I'm not shucking any corn," Smush said, rolling his eyes. "It's just a turn of phrase."

"Shucks," Mogey responded, and for the rest of that week he wore an expression that let every man, woman, and child know that one way or another, he would have his corn pone.