Smush climbed down from the hayloft where he'd enjoyed a modest 18-hour nap, bleary-eyed and beer-ly wide. He encountered Mogey in the corn crib, where his pal was laughing maniacally and wearing a stunning maroon cape.
"BWAHAHAHA," Mogey cackled.
"Oh no," Smush groaned. "It's happened again, hasn't it?"
"Some tiny amount of power has gone to your head. There was that incident when you began intentionally stalling at the front of the lunch rush line at Taco Lord, and don't even get me started on the 3rd-grade tae kwon do tournament you officiated.... What is it this time?"
Mogey hesitated for a moment, but then a broad and devilish smile crept across his face: The expression of a killer whale who's just noticed that a vessel hauling tartar sauce is taking on water.
"All right," Mogey said, "I'll tell you. But only because it's too late - I can no longer be stopped! I have in my possession," he continued, dramatically holding up a thick stack of cards, "enough certificates to take full control of the potato market in this entire region. And when you control the potatoes, guess what, my doubtful dude? You control it all. We're talking french fries, we're talking hash browns, we're talking mash, we're even talking... tater tots. Imagine what people will pay when they haven't eaten a tot for two weeks? Imagine what they'll do? BWAHAHA!"
"Mogey," Smush responded, snatching one of the coupons from Mogey's stack, "this is a 10-potatoes-for-10-dollars coupon from Piggly Wiggly. That's not even a very good deal. It also says 'limit: two per customer.'"
"BWAHAHAHA," was Mogey's only reply.
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