"Have you ever wondered," Mogey murmured as he swept the remnants of his dinner plate into a paper bag beneath the sink (all that remained were two limp string beans that hadn't gotten a proper dose of butter), "what happens to all of our trash?"
"No," Smush replied. "I know exactly what happens to it."
"I've always imaged that there's some sort of fairy... no, more of an ogre - a trash ogre - who comes to pick it up--"
"It just goes into a big pile next to Barnaby Johannson's latrine - you'd know that too if you ever took the trash out."
"--the ogre loves trash far more than new items, you see, and he builds things out of it," Mogey continued dreamily. "Breadcrust boats and yogurt cup castles and wax paper kites. Can't you just see it now? An ogre flying a kite made of crumpled old wax paper?"
"I've got to hand it to you, Mogey, you're always full of ideas," Smush said. "But I once owned a parrot who was full of ideas too...."
"And?"
"Remember that time we had parrot turnovers garnished with parrot beak?"
"Oh my, yes," Mogey said. "Those were delicious! Savory and sweet all at once."
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