"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."
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