Around the turn of the century - well, the turn of a century, anyway - a most curious phenomenon swept through Dense City. Almost overnight, for no apparent reason, every man, woman, and child in the metropolis began to wear comedicaly large hats 24 hours a day. There were formal hats (berets and sombreros, mostly), sleeping caps, driving bonnets, hats for bicycling, dining, and even specialized headdresses to be worn only while digging ditches. And each and every one of these lids spanned at least four feet in diameter.
Bruce Hatman, Dense City's foremost and only hatmaker, went from making leather-n-cabbage soup out of unsold flat caps one night to becoming the hottest purveyor in town the next. Lines in front of his shop - Hatman's Hats, Man - stretched for miles, and many desperate customers waited days for a chance to buy a Hatman original.
Luckily for Mogey and Smush, Bruce Hatman owed them a favor. He'd once accumulated a sizable debt playing Trouble for money (Smush was a savant with the Pop-o-Matic in the center of the board), but the pals had forgiven his liability in exchange for a pair of bucket hats. Now, of course, these buckets had gone out of fashion worse than moustaches on saints.
"Mogey! Smush! Welcome, my friends," Hatman beckoned the pals, giving both of them a kiss on each cheek. He even lifted Mogey's jowls a bit to make sure his smooch landed. Adjusting a necklace made of gold, jewels, leopard fangs, rhino horns, and chunks of meteorite, he ushered them into Hatman's Hats, Man. "I've got something marvelous picked out for each of you. HIGGINS! CHOP CHOP!"
A rather harried man in a tuxedo with a small flounder wriggling away in his breast pocket scurried forward holding two hat boxes the size of helipads.
"Away with you, Higgins," Hatman muttered, shooing the tuxedoed man with a hand bearing at least seven different rings.
"Sir, I--"
"I SAID THAT WILL BE ALL, HIGGINS," howled Hatman. Higgins scurried back the way he had come, leaving the hat boxes behind. "As I was saying," Hatman continued, rolling his eyes, "I've found Hatman originals that will complement each of your, ahem, physiques beautifully. You first, Smush."
Hatman opened the first hat box to reveal an enormous sun hat made entirely out of tortilla chip. The pals gasped.
"And for you, Mogey, I wanted to do something extra special. I remember how much you like birds..."
"I actively despise birds," Mogey mumbled.
"...and so I wanted to capture your avian spirit," Hatman went on. "Behold!" He removed the second hat box's lid, unveiling a wide-brimmed straw boater hat with an extremely ugly and - it is not unfair to say - parsimonious-looking penguin mounted atop it.
"What in heaven's name is that foul creature?" Mogey exclaimed.
"I think it's a crow?" Smush offered. "Some kind of swift-flying bird for sure."
"Enjoy the hats!" Hatman announced. "I've got to go fit the mayor for a new extra large bowler I've invented. I'm calling it," he whispered conspiratorially, "the 'big bowler.' Ta-ta!"
"You know," said Mogey once Hatman disappeared, "I think I liked him better before this big hat craze. Back when he was just a man who loved high stakes Trouble and hat soup."
"I'm not so sure," said Smush, crunching an enormous bite from the brim of his hat. "I think he's got some good ideas."
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