The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 33

"Extra! Extra! Read all - I doubt it!" Mogey shouted, bursting forth from his office/steam room with a wad of papers balled in his moist fists.

"Don't you mean, 'about it?'" Smush inquired.

"What?"

"You said 'read all - I doubt it.' Don't you mean 'read all about it' instead?"

"I don't make the old-timey newspaperman rules, my friend," Mogey replied. "I just abide by them."

"Arguing about this one is not how I'll be spending my Tuesday," Smush conceded. "How did the first edition of the Chubbo Evening Gazette turn out?"

"Read for yourself," said Mogey, thrusting the sweaty broadsheet into his pal's arms. Mogey had been working nonstop on the launch of the paper, scarcely even leaving his office for six-to-seven meals per day and limiting himself to a mere 90 minutes of America's Funniest Home Videos each night. 

Smush took an appraising look at the publication. He flipped through each page, scanning the content closely to get a true feel for what his friend had accomplished. At last he reached the final page and looked up.

"About 90 percent of the paper seems to be made up of coupons for a place called Stanley's Toilet Hut - what's that all about?" 

"I'm glad you picked up on that!" Mogey replied, blushing at the compliment. "You might think it's a business that sells toilets, right? Wrong! That's Stan's - he said I could call him Stan - that's Stan's genius: It's actually just a hut with a single toilet in it!"

"And people pay to use it?"

"Not if you have one of those coupons from the Chubbo Evening Gazette, you don't!"

 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 32

 "How's the rocket doing?" Mogey asked.

"Excellent," Smush replied, twirling the moustache he'd either grown or glued to his face (no one is quite sure which) especially for this endeavor. "It's warming up on the launch pad. Say, you need to get your spacesuit on - we launch in half an hour."

"My space suit is on," said Mogey. He gestured grandly to the baggy leisure suit that ensconced his butternut squash-esque physique. "It's got plenty of space to fill up on extraterrestrial snacks."

Smush looked at his pal like an elderly professor staring at a child bodybuilder who mistakenly listed him as his emergency contact. "You need to wear your real space suit!" he insisted. "There's literally no oxygen up there!"

Mogey would not be deterred. "I believe I heard some talk of green cheese...?" he inquired, displaying once again the additional volume his leisure suit afforded. "These crackers aren't going to eat themselves, and I'm darn sure not eating them without some moon fondue."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 31

 Smush tapped his foot impatiently. Mogey was going to make them late again, and if there was one thing you didn't want to be late for, it was Mole-Rat McGinley's Barbed Wire Cage-o-Spikes Match Extravaganza. Rumor had it that Mole-Rat would seize latecomers from the audience and haul them into the ring to showcase his finishing move, the "Oh Heck Gnaw."

Smush could wait no longer: He burst through Mogey's door to find his pal huddled beneath the blankets, wearing an old-timey head bandage with a comically-large thermometer sticking out of his mouth.

"How many times must I tell you, Mogey? The thermometer doesn't make you feel any better!"

"Well it can't make me feel any worse," Mogey groaned. "I'm dying, I tell you. It's fox pox for sure."

"Let me guess," Smush inquired. "Dry tongue?"

"Yes," Mogey replied fearfully.

"Stomach ache?"

"The worst."

"Sore roof of your mouth?"

"It is!" Mogey exclaimed. "Oh no... I really do have fox pox, don't I?"

"Nope," Smush replied. "Those are the symptoms of mixing flamin' hot cheetos and vilepucker sour balls right before bed, and I believe I see an empty bag of each poking out from your covers?"

"No..." said Mogey, rolling over with a loud plasticky crackle.

"You're fine," Smush insisted. "Now come on: Let's go watch Mole-Rate McGinley suplex Fudgy Joe into oblivion. I heard this time they're going to be rasslin' on a dilapidated ladder that's perched on a table loaded with prickly succulents, which is in turn balanced above a rattlesnake-infested blackberry thicket."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 30

 Mogey peered over his Reader's Digest and extra large bowl of cracklin' oat bran to check the clock. It was almost time. His muscles tensed for action.

"Today's the day, Mogey!" Smush announced as he barrelled down the stairs. Mogey leapt aside: Getting in Smush's way this morning would be tantamount to standing between a buffalo-sized goose and a big ol' helping of goose food. "They're in," Smush continued. "The fresh twix bars arrived this morning!"

"What is it with you and 'fresh' twix?" Mogey inquired.

"I wish I had time to explain it to you, my friend, but once you've tasted a vine-ripened twix that came off the boat that very morning, you realize those supermarket twix are literal garbage. I'm off to Chester Chester's before all that's left are bruised ones." 

"Be careful," Mogey urged his pal as Smush headed out the door. "It rained awful hard last night and there are puddles out there deeper than that poem you wrote for Miss Mary Molly MageeMcMuffin last Mardi Gras."

"Your fragrance enchants me: ambrosia divine / (the whipped cream dessert, not the mythical kind)," said Smush, quoting his own excellent work. "I thank you and I shall use caution."  

Smush did not use caution. In fact, he fell into three different puddles and some kind of mud slip 'n slide in his haste to reach Chester Chester's Confectionaratorium. But as he intoned (and subsequently jotted down for future inscription upon his tombstone and/or any memorial statues erected in his honor), "A fresh twix is a fresh twix, no matter how full of muddy water your trousers may be."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 29

"This is important, Smush," said Mogey, and for perhaps the first time in his entire life, he had used the word 'important' accurately. That's because the time had come to draft a letter to R. Bellamy Plink, magnet magnate. 

Plink's team of tenacious barristers had caught Mogey and Smush reselling unlicensed magnets and threatened legal action unless the pals issued a satisfactory apology. 

"We send a good letter, we'll be sitting at the Bonksburgh Little League Pancake Breakfast before you know it," Mogey continued. "But we send a bad one and we can kiss every metal object we own goodbye. And I mean every metal object."

Smush clutched at his beloved MC Hammer necklace and sat down heavily, his plate armour pants making a loud clank against the chair. "You're going to write this life-changing letter with that?" he asked finally.

"What's wrong with my pencil? I love a good Dixon Ticonderoga."

"An occasion of this import calls for something... grander," Smush replied, flourishing an elaborate fountain pen.

"You mean like this?" Mogey asked, pulling an antique quill from the depths of his writing desk and thrusting it into his pal's face.

It went on like this for several hours, culminating in Smush attempting to pluck a feather from the tail of their very-much-awake -at-the-time friend, neighbor, and alarm clock: Rooster "The Rooster" Standish. By the end of the week, the pals had lost their refrigerator, their backup refrigerator, and every one of their fondue pots to the magnet magnate, as well as most of Smush's right pinkie to Rooster "The Rooster," but they had darn sure gained some perspective. 

"Life isn't all about owning literally anything made out of metal," Smush later said, "life is about food. Specifically pizza. And I'd like to see a magnet magnate try to take that away."

 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 28

 "What do we do now?" Mogey inquired as the two pals gazed out over the field of dead and dying melons. 

"I'll tell you what we don't do," Smush replied, "we don't ever again try to save sixty-five cents an acre by using rat'n'cabbage fertilizer."

"I know the rat'n'cabbage fertilizer was a bad idea. Given the prevailing westerly winds, the entire community of East Weeble knows it was a bad idea. I don't need you to tell me it was a bad idea. What I'm asking you is what do we do about it?" 

"Well," said Smush, taking a long and stinky breath, "we must do as our forefathers would've done in this situation."

"Rub our foreuncles' big chubby bellies for luck?" Mogey suggested.

"No. Well, yes, but that's not all. The founding fathers of Weeble County would've gathered the entire community together at the top of Scrabbleword Hill, held the first annual Stinkmelon Roll, and then sold clothespins at exorbitant prices." 

"Ah, so that's how we ended up with the world's largest and only Sunburn Festival," Mogey said, rubbing his hands together like the manager of a lotion store just before his first ballet recital. "It's diabolical. You know how the old saying goes: When life gives you stinkmelons, make sure everyone smells those stinky melons." 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 27

 "Mogey," said Smush, excitedly blowing a cloud of ashes from his whiskers, "I do not think it's an exaggeration to say that I've found us the greatest gig in the history of gigs."

Mogey, who knew his pal's history of hairbrained and ill-advised employment, eyed Smush suspiciously. "This better not be as bad as reshingling the latrines at that tuna cannery."

"I thought you liked working at Pupener & Sons! And anyhow, this job blows that one away, at least in an olfactory sense. Here, smell."

Mogey sniffed Smush's proffered sleeve. "Mmm," he said. "Barbeque pitmaster?"

"Not quite," Smush replied. "We'd eat up all the profits."

"Beekeeper?"

"I like where your head is at, but no purveyor of foodstuffs would hire us. In addition to the profits, I think we'd eat up lots of bees besides."

"I give up," said Mogey, finally. "What could this smokey profession be?"

"Just think," Smush answered. "What job has it all? The sweet scent of coal, reliable access to hearth kettles full of porridge, and the distinct possibility of spotting Santa. We're going to be chimneysweeps!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 26

 Mogey used his sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow as he hauled himself over the next branch. He took a deep breath and helped Smush climb up next to him, trying not to let his pal's fingers slip out of his sweat-slicked grip. The way was arduous and fraught with danger, but they had no choice: This was the only way to seek the wisdom of The Sage. 

Twice Mogey nearly fell on the ascent, saved only by quick thinking and the way his muffin top caught on the sappy branches. Smush likewise faltered, but was rescued by a mysterious purple monkey, who introduced himself as Corn Boland, gave Smush a quick peck on the cheek, and disappeared into the forest.

At last the pals reached The Sage's lair, where they were greeted by the sight of a round face, great golden eyes, and a beak sharper than the pincher claw of an Arabian balloon-popper crab.

"Oh wise The Sage," Mogey began, shaking a drop of sweat from the tip of his nose, "we beg your counsel on a matter--"

"Who," hooted The Sage.

"Ah, good point," Smush replied. "I am humble Smush, and this is perspiring Mogey."

"Persevering Mogey, I believe my humble friend means," Mogey said, as more sweat streamed down his damp cheeks. "The Sage, we come seeking your advice on a question with no answer. A riddle only you can solve." He paused and took a deep breath. "Original recipe or extra crispy?" 

In response, The Sage burped mightily and spat out an aged mouse tail. Smush picked up the tail, which crackled between his fingers.

"Extra crispy?" he asked.

"Extra crispy," Mogey confirmed. "The Sage has spoken."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 25

 As Smush entered the final chamber of Das Labyrinth, he encountered an ancient wizard, wrinkly, bent, and balancing a bowl of grapenut ice cream upon his knobbly staff. 

"Congratulations," the wizard croaked, "you have completed the maze and thus earned eternal riches. More gold and jewels than you could ever spend. More sweetened condensed milk than the entire Baking Needs aisle at Publix. And more land than you can cover in a month's ride upon the fastest horse. All of these are now yours."

"Right on," Smush replied.

"But!" the wizard interrupted, his face splitting into a cruel grin. "What good will all these riches do you? For even those few who have found their way to the center of Das Labyrinth have never found their way out." He cackled like a bodybuilder whose jar of Muscleblaster 9000 Pure Animal Protein Powder had arrived two days early.

Now it was Smush's turn to smile. 

"Ha!" he exclaimed. When the wizard didn't respond, he went on. "Ha, I say. Perhaps you did not overhear my 'Ha!' In which case... ha!"

The wizard stared at Smush, befuddled. 

"Ha?" Smush tried once more. "Come now, you ancient coot. Surely our banter requires some give and take? No? Well I care not, for now I will reveal what makes me different from those other champions who made it this far: I marked my path! A string of cooked linguini, a half mile long and intricately knotted will guide me out of the maze."

Now the wizard looked like that same bodybuilder had opened his jar of Muscleblaster 9000 Pure Animal Protein Powder expecting to inhale its intoxicating aroma, only to discover that he'd bought a counterfeit jar of Body By Stinksap instead. 

"Excuse me?" said Mogey, poking his head into Das Labyrinth's final chamber with a heartbreaking length of linguini hanging out of his mouth. "Sorry to interrupt, but does either of you know where I could find some pesto or a good carbonara?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 24

 "My stars," Mogey exclaimed. "Did you see that, Smush? He just ran three hoops on the same shot!"

"Oh?" asked Smush unenthusiastically, though he did prop an elbow onto the grass to take a closer look. "And how's the gentleman from the Northern Wilds doing?" 

Smush was referring to Kyle "Pelt" van Pelt, a fur trapper who only came into the village once a year for this very croquet tournament: Le Grand Régional.

"Dominating, of course," Mogey responded. "Though this year there's a young upstart who may give him a run for his money: Chet Wardrobe."

"Is he the anthropomorphic beaver who keeps giving Pelt the evil eye?"

"That's Chet," Mogey confirmed. "They say he hewed his mallet with his own teeth from a tree once used as a gallows in witchcraft trials. And this match is especially personal for him - do you know Pelt's favorite animal to trap?"

"Beaver?" Smush suggested.

"Skunk. And Chet Wardrobe is a massive advocate for the 'scent-compromised' community.  Le Grand Régional - you've got to love it!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 23

Mogey and Smush were connoisseurs of many things: cat-themed jigsaw puzzles, cat-themed jigsaw puzzle accessories, and the artworks of Felix Bunch, kinetic sculptor. But most of all, they were connoisseurs of meat. 

Like all good connoisseurs, they prized the opinions of true craftsmen, and in the field of meat, the finest craftsmen could be found at Bill Bo's Butchershop. Many a day Mogey and Smush would browse the Staff Picks at Triple B until they found something fresh and innovative.

"Look at this one!" Smush claimed."Veronica describes this porterhouse as 'sturdy and nostalgic; the kind of steak you want to curl up with on a cold winter's night.'"

"Mmm," Mogey replied. "How about this polish sausage? Felipe says it's 'smart, sassy, and provocative.'"

"Big Denny's got some thoughts on the new brisket: 'If you liked MacHull Farms' last brisket, you'll LOVE--'" 

"Herman's got a new pick!" Mogey interrupted. Smush immediately dropped the brisket and rushed to his pal's side. "'A ground chuck redolent of love and loss,'" Mogey intoned. "'The sort of meat that comes along once in a lifetime - if you're lucky. Once you've molded it, seasoned it, and cooked it into a double cheeseburger, your life will forever be changed.'"

"Herman," Mogey and Smush sighed dreamily as they brushed tears from their eyes and loaded up their shopping cart with meat.

 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 22

 Parking was always at a premium in the village of Salmon-on-Croute, so when Mogey and Smush drove their donkey cart into town one famishing Sunday morning, they knew their steed Matildonk would have to take what she could get. 

"What about this one?" Smush asked. "Think we can squeeze in?" 

"It'll be tight," said Mogey. "What do you say, Matildonk?"

Matildonk, who was quite eloquent when she wanted to be, but who rarely wanted to be, stared back at Mogey like he'd asked her whether or not she dyed her mane. 

Smush urged her forward, pulling the cart in between a penny-farthing bicycle and some sort of taco truck. 

"That's far enough!" announced a voice so high it sounded as though it had come through a kazoo. Sitting atop the bicycle seat was a tiny monkey wearing a Burger King crown and holding a butterfly knife in each hand.

"Surely we can reach some arrangement?" Smush suggested warily.

"Unless that arrangement involves your donkey and a bottle of extra zesty barbeque sauce," the monkey replied, brandishing his bedazzled teeth, "I suggest you move along."

"Easy, girl," Mogey said, petting Matildonk's neck, for he could feel the rage of one thousand overworked baristas trembling beneath.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 21

 "Will you cut out that infernal filing noise!" shouted Prisoner 9346 a.k.a. The Bacon Bandit a.k.a. Mogey. 

"Shh!" said a voice from the window. "I'm trying to bust you outta here!"

"Smush! Can it really be you?" 

Sure enough, Smush's jowly face materialized out of the dark, and with one last rasp of his file, the iron bars broke clean through. Like five plump wursts protruding from an arepa con queso, his hand lowered toward his pal, who seized it gratefully, doing his best to ignore the funny pang of hunger he always seemed to feel when he grasped Smush's paw.

With much heaving and gasping (and a short break for jerky and limeade) the pals tumbled out of the prison cell, and into Smush's waiting wagon.

"Quick, get under this canvas," Smush urged, "and I'll drive us home." 

He was just about to put their donkey, Edouard McCluckins, in motion, when up strolled Warden Blubb Hayfever, an ill-tempered walrus who had clearly been at Prisoner 101001's prunejack. 

"Whatcha haulin?" Hayfever inquired, giving the wagon a hearty smack of his flipper. 

"My goat," Smush replied. "Right, goat?"

Mogey knew this was his queue, but he was so nervous that he completely forgot how to do his award-winning goat impression.

"HEWWWWWW!" he cried instead.

"He's an Australian goat," Smush confided. "That's the noise they make. They're all very nervous about falling off, you see." 

"Of what?" asked Warden Hayfever. 

"The Earth. You see, my dear warden, goats are too skeptical to buy into even the simplest scientific concepts. It's the same reason you never see a goat astronomer. That and you don't want wattle wool getting into your telescope." 

"You know, Squash," the warden said, wrapping a flipper around Smush's back and leaning in close enough for the pals to smell the potent mixture of sardines and prunejack on his breath, "that's what I like about you. Every time we talk, I learn something new." 

"HEWWWWWW!" called Mogey once more from beneath the canvas.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 20

 As Mogey and Smush crested the snowy summit, their legs shaking, their breath billowing, their pockets crinkling with caramel cream wrappers, they came upon a crevasse that could not have been more perfect for producing an echo.

"Hello!" Mogey shouted.

"Hello!" his echo replied.

"Wow!" said Mogey. 

"Wow!"

"Black bean burger!"

"Black bean burger!"

This went on for at least twenty minutes by Smush's reckoning. He reckoned in Fruit-By-The-Foot, so seven feet of fruit had been consumed. Finally, after Mogey yelled "black bean burger" for the third time, the echo simply quit.

"Will you cut it out already and let me get some sleep?" the echo cried, in perfect imitation of Mogey, though Mogey had said nothing of the sort. "For by the epaulets on Cap'n Crunch's blue coat, I swear I will grind this mountain into dust before I say 'black bean burger' again!"

Legends say that the witch who had doomed Fernando the echo ghost to a millennium of repeating hikers' yells added a hundred years to his punishment for each word he improperly echoed, so this outburst cost him dearly indeed. But legends also say that on that night, Fernando the echo ghost went to bed with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, for he had proven that no man could make him say 'black bean burger' thrice, no matter how many caramel creams he'd consumed.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 19

The Yuletide season was one of Mogey and Smush’s favorite times of year. This was mostly because every occasion to make merry seemed to revolve around food. When it wasn’t Beef Wellington it was fire-roasted chestnuts. When it wasn’t sugar plums it was nog of egg. And when it wasn’t pumpkin pie… well, it was always pumpkin pie with Mogey and Smush around.

Gift giving, on the other hand, was not typically Mogey’s or Smush’s forte. The pals were too focused on delicious victuals, and frankly, too rotund, during the festive season to think of much else. 

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, is it, that figgy pudding?” said Mogey from the sofa. He’d already unbuckled his belt and leaned back in his chair. Now he had no choice but to shift to a full recline.

“Quite the statement from a gentleman who just put away three helpings of it,” Smush replied from the chaise lounge-style patio chair he’d dragged in from the deck. “You thought it would be chocolate pudding with figs in it, didn’t you?”

“Butterscotch pudding, actually,” Mogey said. “And Fig Newtons, not simple figs. Fruit on Christmas? Ick! But doesn’t that sound better?”

“As a matter of fact it does,” Smush answered. “So here’s your present!”

He sounded an air horn, and in hopped Miss Elle Toad, the wassailing frog of Bon Bon Pond. In her warty arms she held a mighty glass bowl, filled to the brim with butterscotch pudding. Atop the pudding stood a perfect reconstruction of the famous battle between Snow Miser and Heat Miser, made entirely from Fig Newtons.

Mogey was still too full to sit up, but a single tear rolled down his cheek as he brandished his spoon once more.

“Merry Christmas, Smush. It’s perfect.”

“Merry Christmas, Mogey,” his pal replied.

 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 18

 It was customary, in those days, to let out a hearty belch after a good meal. Many hosts would've been wholly offended by a burp-less guest, and Mogey and Smush made great efforts not to give offense. Even when it was only the two of them, they made sure to let a few tonsil-ripplers go during the dessert course.

"Hold on a moment, Smush," Mogey said one evening as his pal rose for a fifth pudding pop, "I'm about to be so darn polite that it's going to blow your mind."

Smush sat, and Mogey opened his mouth wider than an opera singer receiving a monkey bite from a bully he thought was his best friend. Instead of a mere belch, however, an enormous bubble began to emerge from Mogey's mouth. Larger and larger it grew - much to Mogey's consternation - until it was bigger around than Smush's belly, or an "el grande" size beach ball. 

"I keep telling you, Mogey," said Smush, "you've got to spit out your Juicy Fruit after you chew it, not swallow the stuff."

"Chew it?" Mogey exclaimed as the bubble finally broke off and drifted toward the ceiling. "I've just been swallowing the sticks whole. You get the same great taste, but it's far less filling that way."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 17

 "You know what this party needs?" Mogey asked as their guests yawned through the fourth playing of The Monster Mash that hour. Their Master of Ceremonies, a serpent and Harry Potter-tribute DJ named Sal "The Czar" Slitherin', continued to spin the ones and twos, oblivious to the boredom of the crowd as his tail swayed in time to the beat.

"Oh please no," Smush replied, pinching the top of his nose. "Not the Under--"

"The UnderWOO!" Mogey exclaimed. With a small squeal of delight, he unveiled his prized antique typewriter.

"I keep telling you, Mogey, it's an Underwood, the d just wore off."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Smush! Only an UnderWOO could set the party off like this!"

With that, Mogey began to mash at the keys, making the typewriter into a percussion instrument as loud as it was disorderly.

"For pete's sakes, Mogey," Smush said. "At least find out what you're typing!" Smush slid a page into the typewriter mid-song, and as Mogey continued to punch the keys, letters began to blossom across the paper. 

Mogey finally realized what was happening and yanked the page free of the carriage. For a moment he was silent as he surveyed the paper covered in letters. 

"This is cursed magic indeed!" Mogey shouted.

"But Mogey, I just--"

"Begone, you! Keep your dastardly witchcraft away. This is no house of devilry!" said Mogey as he backed away slowly, crossing his forefingers in an X in front of his face. 

Across the room, "I was working in the lab late one night..." echoed ominously from the speakers for the fifth time as Sal "The Czar" Slitherin' hissed with delight.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 16

Hand over hand, foot over foot, Mogey and Smush made their way slowly up the village church's steeple. Twice, loose shingles threatened to send them plummeting to their doom. Another time, Smush's hand accidentally got caught in Mogey's back fat, and it took half an hour and a goodly portion of Smush's emergency stick of butter to remove it.

"Don't worry, Smush," said Mogey as his pal's hand came free with an enormous SBLOOP! "It'll all be worth it in the end."

At last they made it into the bell tower. Before them hung the ancient bronze bell cast by Emmit Village, the founder and namesake of their little hamlet. The great instrument filled the pals with pride and a hunger for beefy seven-layer burritos. Smush glanced at the sun and held Mogey back with an arm.

"Wait a moment," Smush said. "It's too risky."

"I don't care!" Mogey exclaimed, pushing past Smush's arm as though it was the turnstile at the final concert of rap rock legends Mild Fever. "I've had enough of those mosquitos, I tell you. I must have bat allies and I must have them now!"

Mogey crouched beneath the massive bell and looked up, just as the clock struck noon. Twelve epic peals rang out. Unable to escape, Mogey received the full blast of each knell from inside the bronze dome. 

When at last the twelfth note had been struck, Mogey stumbled out, his head still vibrating noticeably.

"Well?" asked Smush.

"There were no bats," Mogey replied. "But by golly what a ride! Only 59 minutes until it comes round again!" 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 15

 "Rain again," groaned Smush, turning away from the window.

"Oh?" said Mogey, sounding like the heir to a toilet paper fortune who has just fallen madly in love with the general manager of an upstart bidet manufacturer. He adored rainy weather, but he also knew his best pal despised it.

"Guess we should dig out the boots," Smush went on.

"Galoshes?" Mogey asked.

"Um, you mean steaming hot rain catchers? No, thank you."

"Work boots?"

"Too stiff."

"Wellies?"

"Aren't those the same thing as galoshes?" 

"Then what kind of boots do you want?" Mogey demanded.

"You know those boots that are actually pants?" Smush inquired.

"Hip waders?"

"I personally think they're the height of dorkdom," Smush replied, "but if you believe they're hip, more power to you. The question is: Have we got any?" 

"Oh, we've got some alright," Mogey said. "I believe they're still standing in the kitchen, half full of buffalo chicken dip from that party last Wednesday."

"Ah yes, they did make a most excellent dip bowl. Well, grab a new bag of Hint-o'-Limes and meet me in the kitchen, Mogey. You know what we have to do."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 14

 In all the land, the most famed gymnast, and thus the most famed person, was a surprisingly stout young man by the name of Pom L. Hoarse. He was every child's hero, beloved by all, and affectionately known by his iconic nickname, Signore Stretch.

But Signore Stretch had a dark secret, one he kept even from his closest friend: "Pom L. Hoarse" was actually an extremely inconspicuous alias. 

"Where are you off to so early?" Mogey asked Smush as his pal headed for the door. "And is that a leotard under your arm?"

"Err, no," Smush replied. "It's a long-sleeved bathing costume. I'm going scuba diving in Ram Banana's new deepwater pool."

"'k," said Mogey skeptically. "Say, any idea why there's chalk all over the peanut butter jar?"

"Have you noticed how difficult it is to get the lid off lately? Chalk is miraculous for getting a better grip!"

"Right, right, of course. What are you up to tonight? Care to join me for the big gymnastics show down at the Civic Center?"

"Oh, no thank you," Smush answered. "I'm liable to be all tuckered out. You know how exhausting it is to spend a morning with Ram Banana." 

But on the inside Smush thought to himself Drat! He'd have to change his alias again, and perhaps even go back to wearing a mask. But what did that matter? Signore Stretch would die a legend, and for Smush, the thrill was in feeling the wind ripple his chins as he flew through the air, wild and free. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 13

 Ever the crafty consumers, Mogey and Smush made sure to haggle about any sales transaction for at least one change of the tides. On the particular day in which we encounter our pals, Smush found himself in need of a new toothbrush.

"And you say this model features sleek handling and an ergonomic design?" Smush asked.

"Yes," replied the distracted pharmacist, "but I've really got to go help some other customers."

"I like that it's got authentic hog's neck bristles," said Smush, ignoring him, "but I'm just not sure about the price."

"Ask about the limited warranty," Mogey urged.

"What if I include a free bag of taffy?" the desperate pharmacist offered.

"Taffy?" Smush asked, suddenly far more interested.

"Taffy?" Mogey interjected. "Smush, don't you see? He's selling you the disease and the cure all at once! What's next, sir? A free jar of blackberry seeds? Some complimentary popcorn kernels?"

"Ahhhh," said Smush, giving the pharmacist the appraising look of a frog warrior eyeing a new claimant to the lilypad throne, "I see your game, pharmacist, and I must say I respect it. Tell you what: you throw in one of those caramel apples and a king-size box of Steak-umms and you've got yourself a deal." 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 12

 "Hnnnnghhh!" Mogey gasped, sprinting through the front door like a taxidermist who just saw his stuffed porcupine's toe wiggle, "Smush... hnnnghhh... take... arghhhh... cover!"

"What is it, Mogey?" Smush cried, rushing to his pal's side. "Don't tell me you stole Big Mo Tercicle's last strawberry frosted doughnut again?"

"No! Well--yes, of course I did, but no that's not the most pressing issue at the moment. We've got vampires!"

"Vampires?"

"Vampires," Mogey confirmed. "They're everywhere: Acting spooky, looking pale, eating worms, clucking ominously."

"I believe you're thinking of chickens," Smush said.

"Ah, yes," Mogey replied, catching his breath at last. "Chickens is the word I was searching for."

"My God," said Smush. "It's worse than I thought! You bar the door and I'll grab the 12-gauge. They're after our lifetime supply of liquorice whips!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 11

 WELCOME TO "HOME PLATING WITH MOGEY AND SMUSH," THE SHOW ABOUT BASEBALL SNACKS AND BASEBALL ENTREES. AND NOW, YOUR HOSTS WITH THE MOST [RUMBLY TUMBLIES]: MOGEY AND SMUSH!

Smush: Thank you for joining us. Today we'll be talking all things frankfurter: We've got dogs, we've got buns, we've got a vast array of mustards, we've got so many relishes that the chutney police are hot on our tails--

Mogey: Why was he yelling?

Smush: What?

Mogey: The announcer guy. Does he really need to shout like that?

Smush: I'm not--

Mogey: And what's up with the crack about our tumblies? He wasn't supposed to read that part out loud.

Smush: Can we just get back to frankfurters, please? 

Mogey: Fine.

Smush: Now, onto krauts, cheeses, and cheese-adjacent products--

Mogey: It's just... I know my tumbly is rumbly. I don't need anyone shouting about my rumbly tumbly. I can feel it rumbling beneath this admittedly echoey t-shirt.

Smush: You know something, Mogey?

Mogey: Yes?

Smush: You are absolutely right. You hear that, announcer man? Prepare to feel our combined wrath - and the wrath of the chutney police, for that matter - if you utter one more word about our tumblies, rumbly though they may be! I say beware, Mr. Announcer, for the vengeance of a hungry Mogey and Smush is both swift and terrible, and we haven't eaten in at least thirty-five minutes.

THANK YOU FOR JOINING US FOR ANOTHER EPISODE OF "HOME PLATING WITH MOGEY AND SMUSH." WE'LL SEE YOU AGAIN NEXT WEEK FOR MORE HIGHLY-FOCUSED BASEBALL FOOD TALK.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 10

 At the Stoatburgh Stoat Festival, the premier event was of course the stoat-judging competition. Among other privileges, the year's Top Stoat was allowed, by law, to run amok in every henhouse in the district. 

The second-most important event, however, was the annual Juggle Off. And since they lacked the level of stoatiness required for the stoat-judging contest, it was the Juggle Off that Mogey and Smush entered.

"What's your strategy this year, Moge-ster?" Smush inquired.

"Two words," said Mogey. "Bowling balls."

"That's your strategy every year! And every year you forget until too late that bowling balls are too heavy to juggle."

"Ah, but that's where this year will be different. I've tried using eight-pound balls in the past; this year it'll be 12-pounders only. What's your strategy, anyhow?"

"Oh, I've got a little something up my sleeve." 

Later, as Mogey nursed a bowling ball-squashed foot, Smush's turn at the Juggle Off finally arrived. He mounted the stage, calmly produced a single hard-boiled egg, and tossed it from hand to hand several times before chucking it directly into the mouth of Lil Stoatie Bellingham, that year's Top Stoat and Juggle Off judge.

"The winner!" announced Lil Stoatie with an eggy hiss.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 9

 One bold and zesty afternoon, the pals strode through the village of Little Binky on their semi-annual expedition to procure toe-warmers, dog-wormers, and calf-firmers. As they passed Madame Bucheron's, Smush stopped short.

"Fancy a coffee?" he inquired.

"I don't drink coffee," Mogey replied, "and neither do you. Coffee ice cream? Yes. Coffee ice cream which has been sitting on the coffee table until it - like coffee - has become a beverage? Yes. But anything resembling actual hot bean water I promise you we will both detest."

"Now that's just not so," Smush insisted. He entered Madame Bucheron's, bold as you like, and approached the counter. "One medium Smush Special, please." 

"What's that?" asked the enflanneled axe-wielding barista. 

"A cup of heavy cream with three drops of your finest coffee," Smush announced.

He and Mogey played a spirited game of Guess Which Peanut until the brew was ready, at which point Smush took a proud sip... and promptly sprayed his entire mouthful across Madame Bucheron's window.

"There are at least five-to-six drops of coffee in here!" Smush spluttered. "I require immediate assistance to eliminate this wretched taste from my mouth! Quick, get me two more cups of cream and a cup of half-and-half. I am on a diet, after all."