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."