The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 572

One evening, Mogey and Smush were returning home from La Fiesta di Hombre Murcielago when they encountered a bear standing in the middle of the road.

"Who goes there?" said the bear. "Give me all the honey you've got."

"Whoa!" Mogey exclaimed. "A talking bear!"

"Yes, yes," the bear replied, "it's very unusual, I know. Just give me the honey, will you?"

"Can you do any accents?" Smush asked.

"For goodness sakes!" the bear cried. "If I do an accent will you please, please give me your honey?"

"Sure," Smush replied. The bear then delivered the soliloquy from Hamlet in a perfect Austrian accent, complete with menacing scowl.

"Now where's my honey?" he demanded.

"We haven't got any," Mogey answered. "But I do have some leftover Thai lettuce wraps around here somewhere if you'd like those."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 571

"What are you wearing for pajamas these days, Smush?" Mogey asked one day while he was eating teddy grahams, a food that always put him in a philosophical mood.

"During these winter months I usually wear my flannel nightshirt," Smush replied. "And on particularly cold nights I sometimes throw on one of the sheepskin adult diapers Crazy Aunt Nellie gave us last Christmas. What about you?"

"I'm sort of in transition. I used to always wear matching pajamas, but I've been experimenting with a new invention I call 'Mogeywear.' It's like a connected pajama bottom and top with no waistband, so you're freedom of movement is incredible!"

"That's already been invented, Mogey," Smush interjected. "They're called footy pajamas."

"Oh there are no feet on Mogeywear," Mogey replied with just a teensy bit of contempt in his voice. "I keep my feet bare when I go to bed, just in case I have to roundhouse kick an intruder without giving him a black eye."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 570

On the evening of The Great Debate, Mogey and Smush led the St. Zonko School for Wild Boys debate team into the ancient arguing grounds. The pals had spent the last fortnight designing uniforms for the St. Zonko team: They'd sewn spangles and stitched patches, they'd knitted socks and crocheted scarves, they'd darned seams and tatted fancy collars.

Now that it was showtime, Mogey and Smush strode into the arguing grounds with a confidence they'd never felt before, and they could see in their opponents' eyes that the uniforms were intimidating. Finally it came time for St. Zonko's first debate of the tournament. The opposing team launched unsteadily into their opening statement, clearly rattled by the flash and pizzazz of Mogey and Smush's new uniforms.

Then the moderator turned to the St. Zonko's team. For a few moments the silence was broken only by throat clearing and a small rogue belch, as Mogey and Smush waited for someone on their team to say something.

"Smush," Mogey whispered, "I'm beginning to think maybe we should have spent a little less time on our uniforms and a little more time practicing our debating skills."

"Nah," Smush replied quietly, "you can't underestimate the value of a first impression. And right now St. Zonko's is stylin'."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 569

"So, Mogey," Smush said one day as the two pals sat around a heaping plate of ebelskivers, "have you made any New Year's resolutions?"

"Indeed I have," Mogey replied. "I've resolved to add an additional apricot bear claw to my daily doughnut regimen."

"I see, and how many doughnuts does that take you up to on a typical day? Six? Seven?"

"It's actually a nice round gentleman's ten."

"Ah," said Smush. "You know, Mogey, usually a New Year's resolution is something constructive, like getting healthy, or, say, being kinder to others."

"Well that's just what I'm doing," Mogey responded. "The Moge-man is a whole lot nicer to his neighbors with an extra apricot bear claw in his belly. I'll be so darn kind, people might actually stop shrieking when I pass them on the sidewalk."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 568

"Do you think you could ever live in a rain forest?" Mogey asked Smush as the two pals stared out the kitchen window at a bleak, stormy November morning.

"Not on your life," Smush replied.

"Why's that? Is it the bugs?"

"No sir, the bugs don't other me in the slightest."

"The heat, then?"

"Uh-uh," Smush said. "Smush loves him some hot, humid weather."

"Well what is it?" Mogey inquired. "Why wouldn't you live in a rain forest?"

"Two reasons," Smush replied. "First, I'm deathly afraid of leaches. Second, monkeys. Those wise guys are always giving you a hard time. It's like, hey, monkey, if you're going to make a funny face at me, why don't you come down here where I can hit you with my monkey beating stick?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 567

"You know something, Smush? I'm thinking about taking on the horn," Mogey announced one day as the two pals were viewing an amateur game of skittles at the YMCA.

"Good for you!" Smush replied. "Which horn is that? The french horn?"

"Of course not."

"The trumpet, then?"

"No."

"Perhaps the flugelhorn?"

"Um, no, Smush, I'm talking about the XXXL creme horn at Papa Bombasta's House of Absurdly Oversized Pastries," said Mogey, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Sheesh, it's like you've never spoken to me before."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 566

When Grandma Mulligan moved down to Crillking County, Mogey and Smush missed her warm smile, her potato soup, and her blazin' hot hip hop stylings, in that order. One winter's eve when they missed Grandma Mulligan particularly terribly, Mogey and Smush decided to try their hands at making her world famous potato soup.

"Are all the ingredients assembled?" Smush asked.

"Yessiree," Mogey replied.

"Alright then, hand me a potato." Mogey handed him one. "Hang on a second," Smush said. "This isn't a potato at all. It's a Mr. Potato Head doll."

"So?"

"We need real potatoes to make potato soup."

"I've had enough of this talk of real potatoes and fake potatoes," Mogey said sternly. "Grandma Mulligan never held with potato racism and I won't either!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 565

One morning Mogey was enjoying a heaping bowl of bran clusters when he looked up to see Smush descending the stairs. His pal looked remarkably different: A long grey beard hung from Smush's chin and despite leaning heavily on a cane, he was limping along at a snail's pace, his back hunched awkwardly.

"Good heavens, Smush!" Mogey exclaimed. "What has happened? Have I gone to bed and woken up many years later like Rip van Stiltskin?"

"Of course you haven't, dunderhead," Smush replied. "And it's Rumplewinkle, not Rip van Stiltskin."

"But, but you're an old man!"

"I most certainly am not! This is just my napping beard," Smush rejoined, pulling off the false grey whiskers. "And I'm only using this cane because you roller skated over my foot yesterday. I told you the inside of that elevator wasn't a roller derby arena, but did you listen to me? No you did not."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 564

"How would you like to go caroling today, Mogey?" Smush asked one morning very near Christmas.

"Hmm, I must say I'm intrigued," Mogey replied. "Tell me more about this caroling."

"We'll go from door to door, singing our favorite Christmas songs and bringing cheer to our friends and neighbors."

"And what would we get in return?" Mogey asked.

"You don't get anything in return," Smush said. "It's just a nice thing to do."

"Fiddlesticks! I thought you mentioned something about figgy puddings?"

"I said nothing of the sort."

"Well I suppose I could bring my own figgy puddings," Mogey said thoughtfully. "Let's do it. But you had better be prepared to carry the second verse of Good King Wenceslas: That first verse always makes me hungry, so I'll probably have my mouth full."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 563

Of all the magnificent and monstrous creatures in the land, the most feared was the mighty quadropus. He was a squid-like sea-dwelling beast with four tentacles long enough to crush an entire truckload of snack cakes into one tiny nugget of deliciousness. The quadropus was also know for his keen fashion eye: He had a tendency to gobble up anyone he thought was dressed distastefully.

One fine morning, Mogey and Smush were out for a refreshing swim in Burntbottom Bay when suddenly the might quadropus rose up before them.

"Who goes there?" the quadropus demanded in his booming voice.

"Tis just us," Mogey replied. "Mogey and Smush."

"Ah," said the quadropus. "I thought you may have been the snack cake delivery man."

"While we're in your presence, oh great quadropus," Smush interjected, "would you mind telling us what you think of our fashion senses?" The quadropus gazed at them with an appraising eye.

"Poor, but not the worst I've seen. Your choice of striped socks with plaid swim trunks was a bit misguided, as was, come to think of it, your choice to wear socks of any kind whilst swimming."

An awkward silence fell for a moment, as Mogey and Smush gazed bashfully down into the water at their stockinged feet.

"Ohhhh, I get it," Mogey said suddenly. "It's like 'octopus,' but he has four legs instead of eight!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 562

"What shall we do to get girls to dance with us?" Mogey asked one lovely summer's eve as he and Smush were en route to the big hoedown.

"It is a mystery that has plagued scholars for centuries and centuries," Smush replied. "Although I hear girls love tough guys - can you do anything tough?"

"I can demonstrate a few tai chi moves. Do you think that would work?"

"I'm not so sure... tai chi doesn't seem like something tough guys would do."

"Balderdash," Mogey retorted. "It's a martial art!"

"What about scars?" Smush suggested. "Have you got any scars to show off how tough you are?"

"That I do!" Mogey said excitedly. "See the little red spot where that soft-shell crab pinched me last week? If that doesn't make me look like a hard man, nothing will."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 561

One morning, Mogey returned home from working the late shift at the savory cracker factory to find a statue in the front garden. The statue was a full-size sloth carved out of brilliant white stone, and the sculptor had taken extra care to make it exceptionally lifelike.

"Nice statue," Mogey told Smush as he went inside and wearily set down his lunch, extra lunch, and luncho fantastico (Spanish for "3rd lunch") pails.

"What statue is that?" Smush asked, looking up from his copy of Prune & Dried Fruit Aficionado.

"The big sloth statue out front," Mogey replied.

"No! No! No!" Smush cried, tossing aside his magazine and dashing out the front door. "That crafty rascal."

Mogey followed his pal outside to discover that the sloth statue was gone. "I don't understand," he said. "What happened?"

"It wasn't a statue at all," Smush replied. "It was an actual sloth covered in flour. You see, Mogey, that critter has taken to rolling around our flour bin. He likes how it feels on his fur, but then our bread smells like sloth for the next week. When you saw him in the front garden, he was actually fleeing the scene of the crime very, very slowly."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 560

"He had a shiny bald head," Mogey explained to the police sketch artist. "And if you ask me he looked to be a few apples short of an apple cake."

"Ok," the sketch artist replied. "What about his height?"

"He was probably, what, two-foot-two or two-foot-four?" Smush answered.

"And what sort of clothes was he wearing?"

"I'm not sure," Smush said. "It was hard to see anything around the armor-like shell he had on his back."

"It sounds like this guy looked exactly like a turtle," said the sketch artist. "What did he do, again?"

"He was a turtle," Mogey replied. "And he ate up half the cabbages in our garden."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 559

"I've finally completed my masterpiece," Mogey announced, staggering out of the broom closet in a haze of dry bubblegum fragments and chocolate milkshake residue. A crumpled, greasy manuscript was clutched in his hand. "I've written a book of World War I poetry!"

"Say," Smush responded, "aren't we supposed to live in a time before World War I?"

"Probably," Mogey said, "but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to predict a world war will occur at some point in the future, or to imagine what it will be like."

"Yeah, we also live in a time before rockets," Smush added, "but I guess that's besides the point. Let's hear some poetry, then."

"Alright - this one really sums up the tone of the entire book. It's called Fluffy the Bunny's French Countryside Ice Cream Picnic."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 558

Scarcely a week passed when Mogey and Smush would not find themselves in the offices of FP Werthersoriginals, the director of the local theater. Mogey and Smush were dying to be in show business, but FP Werthersoriginals roundly dismissed every idea they came up with.

"We're back, Mr. Werthersoriginals," Smush declared as they strode into the office once again, "despite the fact that Mogey cried for an entire week when you said our two-man band was 'filthy - and not in the good way.'"

"It's true," Mogey added. "And that wasn't even as painful as the time you started firing warning shots from your revolver during our laser light show demonstration."

"Well, get on with it then," FP Werthersoriginals said, stroking his moustache and wondering what sort of beast's leg he'd like to have for lunch that day.

"We call this: Puppet Time with Soggy & Mush," Smush announced. He and Mogey pulled socks onto their arms and began using their hands to approximate two snake-ish creatures discussing the Dewey Decimal System.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said FP Werthersoriginals. "Whoa. Those are your puppets? A couple of gym socks? For serious? Didn't you even want to slap a pair of googly eyes on them?"

"Let's get out of here, Mogey," Smush said haughtily. "It's clear that, once again, FP Werthersoriginals doesn't understand true art."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 557

One dark and moonless summer afternoon, an ominous knock sounded on the front door of Mogey and Smush's Academy for Gifted Checker Players.

"May I help you?" Smush asked, opening the door to reveal a chubby man wearing a mask and a wide-brimmed black hat.

"Yes," the man replied. "My name is Fat Zorro. May I please have a cinnamon bun?"

"I'm afraid not," Smush rejoined. "We only have enough cinnamon buns here for our students to eat one apiece, and for Principal Mogey and I to have three."

"Tell you what," Fat Zorro said. "I'll play you in checkers for it."

"P'shaw," Mogey said.

"Laughable," Smush added.

Ten minutes later, Fat Zorro was dashing out of the school as fast as his meaty legs could carry him, six cinnamon buns impaled on his sword and the students' cheers ringing in his ears.

"You cheat!" Smush called after him. "You scoundrel!"

"You can take those double and triple jumps to your grave with you, Fat Zorro!" Mogey shouted. "We don't play that way at Mogey and Smush's Academy for Gifted Checker Players."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 556

"Pine straw is just as good as regular straw, I tell you!" Smush said. "I read it in a technical document of some kind!"

"There's no way!" Mogey insisted. "It's all piney and gross."

The reason Mogey and Smush were debating the merits of pine straw is that their neighbor, Phil the Farmer, had tasked them with taking care of his cow while he went to Jamaica for the week. For their help Mogey and Smush would have all the cow's milk, plus six golden coins as long as they didn't eat any portion of the animal.

But Mogey and Smush had run out of straw to feed the cow on Day 2, and now they were scrambling to find an apt substitute. With no other ideas, they hauled a wheelbarrow full of pine straw back to Phil the Farmer's barn and began pitching it into the cow's feedbasket to see what he would do.

"Excuse me," the cow said, "is that pine straw?"

"Yes," Smush replied.

"I can't eat pine straw," the cow said. "It's poisonous."

"Ha!" Mogey shouted. "Told you!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 555

One afternoon, Smush came home with a newborn baby squirrel tucked into his lunch pail.

"I hope you don't expect me to eat that for dinner," Mogey said warily. "I had squirrel for lunch today."

"He's not for dinner!" Smush said, reflexively hugging the lunch pail closer to his chest. "I thought he'd make a nice pet."

"That wouldn't be so bad, I suppose. What are you going to name him?"

"I was thinking 'Samuel.' He looks like a Samuel, doesn't he?"

"Samuel?" Mogey asked incredulously. "Do you know what that name means?"

"No, what does it mean?"

"It means," Mogey replied, lowering his voice so Samuel wouldn't hear, "little stinky skunk man."

"That is not accurate," Smush said.

"Alright, alright, I admit it," Mogey answered. "It actually mean big stinky skunk man."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 554

It was not safe to be out after dark in Mogey and Smush's township because of the Mighty Walloping Honkersanz, a creature so monstrous he would eat you up without even having an hors d'oeuvre first. In the wee hours of morning, you could hear his honking war cry as he searched for tasty people who strayed outdoors.

To the Mighty Walloping Honkersanz, Mogey was the equivalent of a fried macaroni-and-cheese ball, and so he was horrified to awake one night in the middle of the street, having apparently sleepwalked straight out the front door. More frightening still, he could hear an awful honking noise coming toward him.

Mogey whirled around and sprinted for home, only to twist his ankle on an old slice of eggplant parmesan lying in the road. He knew it was too late – the Mighty Walloping Honkersanz was already upon him. Mogey squeezed his eyes shut and waited for sweet honking death to claim him.

“Hi there, Mr. Mogey.”

“Wha-what?” gasped Mogey, opening his eyes. Standing in front of him was Royal Pantsbottom, the neighborhood paperboy.

“You’re awake awful early today,” Royal Pantsbottom said, honking his bicycle horn.

“That horn,” Mogey stammered. “I always thought your horn was the cry of the Mighty Walloping Honkersanz!”

“Oh,” Royal Pantsbottom said. “Didn’t you ever notice that my honking was always followed by the sound of a newspaper landing on your front porch?”

"I always thought that was the sound of the Mighty Walloping Honkersanz putting down his Fearsome Widowmaking Briefcase," Mogey replied.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 553

"You know, Mogey, I don't even know why I bother raking the leaves with you," Smush said one fall afternoon that was not crisp. It was anything but crisp.

"Why's that, Smush?" Mogey asked, sweeping his wooden rake carefully along the ground. "There's nothing you love more than an orderly front lawn."

"Very true. But every time we've ever raked the leaves into a pile, you haven't been able to resist the urge to jump in and undo all our hard work."

"Now that's just not fair," Mogey retorted. "I did no such thing back in the fall of '26."

"Yes, but that's only because you had a broken leg at the time," Smush said. "And you still managed to scatter the leaves about by rolling your wheelchair through the pile half a dozen times!"

Just then the urge to leap into the pile overcame Mogey, and he took a running dive into their newly formed heap of leaves, splashing them to the far corners of the yard.

"What was that?" he asked, looking ever-so-slightly guilty as he emerged from what used to be their pile. "I couldn't quite hear you."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 552

It seemed that Mogey never could catch a break. Boredom plagued him one rainy Sunday morning until he managed to track down a book that seemed interesting. But when he finally settled down in his easy chair to start in on Adventures in Toastmaking, the book seemed to have other ideas. Every time Mogey opened the cover, the book would sprout arms and legs, hop down from his lap, and run full speed until it crashed into a wall.

"Why in the world is this happening?" Mogey shrieked in frustration after the book had escaped for a third time.

"Why is what happening?" Smush asked, sticking his head into the room.

"Adventures in Toastmaking keep growing arms and legs and running away from me!"

"Well," Smush replied, surveying the situation carefully, "you are eating cheez curlies. If you tried to touch me with your fingers all covered in that weird orange dust, I'd probably run away too."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 551

Mogey strode into the 73rd annual FancyPants Gala & All-You-Can-Eat Buffet feeling pretty darn schnazzy. His hair was combed, he had on a pair of extra-shiny shoes, and he was about to rub shoulders with the most powerful lords, ladies, and possum-barons in the countryside.

"Hey there, Smush. This is some shindig, eh?" Mogey said when he encountered his pal, who had come straight to the event from his racquetball match.

"Sheesh, Mogey, spin your top, will you?" Smush replied, rolling his eyes.

As it was Mogey's first trip to the FancyPants Gala, he assumed this was a custom of the event, deferring to Smush who was a veteran of such affairs after attending the prior year. So he pulled out the small spinning top he always kept in his pocket for good luck and gave it a good twist on the buffet table.

"No, Mogey," Smush urged quietly. "I mean, turn your top around!"

Mogey seized the top and spun it even more forcefully, accidentally propelling it into a large bowl of prawn pancakes.

"For the love of muffins, Mogey!" Smush whispered in exasperation. "I mean turn your shirt around! It's on backwards - I don't even know how you were able to button it up that way!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 550

"Psst, Mogey," Smush whispered across the detention hall table. "Have you got the time?"

"Of course not," Mogey replied, looking up from his copy of Tractors, Tractors, and Scuttlebutt. "You know I never wear a watch."

"Well then how do you ever know what time it is?"

"What?" Mogey demanded with a level of incredulity usually reserved for an undertaker when a corpse requests a grape popsicle. "I just ask Pocketwatch Stevenson."

Mogey leaned back to reveal that the classmate in question was sitting right beside him. As Pocketwatch Stevenson shook his head with disappointment, his half dozen golden watches jangled louder then an obese janitor climbing to the top of a bell tower.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 549

"Never again!" Mogey said, his teeth chattering violently. "That's the last time I'll ever join in that cursed underwater snowball eating competition."

"I couldn't agree more," Smush replied as his body quaked with cold. "If I live through this, I swear I'll never eat another snowball in my life!"

The pals had collapsed on the hearth before a roaring fire. Warm bricks now rested on each of their frozen tummies.

"I know it's for a good cause," Mogey moaned. "But why do they have to have it in January?"

"The underwater part would be so much nicer in the summer," Smush added, "although I suppose snowballs would be pretty hard to come by. I'm off to boil some water - do you want something hot? Maybe a cup of coffee or some soup?"

"Have we got any maple syrup?"

"Does this look like the house of a molasses and honey magnate?" Smush said. "Of course we have maple syrup. Are you going to use it to sweeten your coffee?"

"Nope," Mogey replied. "I'm going to drink it straight up. Nothing cures a stomach ache like a cup full of syrup."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 548

"I can't find it anywhere!" Smush shouted. "Grandpa Ulysses would tan my hide if he found out I lost it, God rest his soul."

Mogey looked up from his copy of Slightly Less Flabby Abs in Seven Minutes and watched his pal rooting furiously through the cigar box that served as their cookbook, flinging recipes willy nilly around the kitchen.

"Easy does it, Smush," Mogey said calmly, getting up to offer his assistance. "What are you looking for?"

"Grandpa Ulysses' saltwater taffy recipe," Smush replied. With the speed of a vegetarian cobra, Mogey lashed out and slapped Smush across the face.

"I'm sorry," Mogey said immediately, snatching his hand back. "It was a gut reaction. I'm sure we can think this through: Let's start with the ingredients. Clearly Grandpa Ulysses' specialty was composed of three things: salt, water, and taffy."

"You're a genius, Mogey!" Smush exclaimed. "I think you've got it. Now how do we combine them?"

"Just stir them together in a pot over high heat," Mogey replied wisely.

The pals didn't make anything close to resembling saltwater taffy that day, but they did create a salve that proved to be a miraculous remedy for the red hand-print on Smush's face. The boiling hot salty taffy took so many layers of skin off, you'd never know Smush had been slapped at all.