"There she is, Mogey," Smush said, pointing to a young lady sitting in the far corner of the cafe. "Nelly Simmons-Timmons."
"Is she the one reading Weakly Weekly or the one wearing the 10-gallon hat?"
"She's the one with the pop-tart in her lapel. See?"
"Ah," said Mogey, somewhat nervously. "I'm not sure about this, Smush. I've never been on a blind date before."
"Nonsense," Smush replied. "What did I tell you? Nelly Simmons-Timmons is one of the bubbliest young ladies around. You two will get along like a racoon and a garbage bag full of shredded wheat."
"'Bubbliest?' Does that mean she washes her hands a lot?"
"No, it's an expression. It means she--"
"Oh... oh! Does it mean she has carbuncles?" Mogey inquired.
"Of course not," said Smush. "She--"
"I know - it must mean she drinks a lot of soda. Is that it? Maybe you're right that we'll hit it off. After all, I do love soda."
"No, Mogey, see here: it's--"
Smush was cut off mid-sentence by Nelly Simmons-Timmons herself, who took a long pull of her Big Gulp and let out a cafe-silencing belch.
"Pardon me," Mogey said, dreamily pushing past his pal, "I do believe I'm in love."
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