The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 39

 Mogey and Smush - along with virtually every other resident of Dusty Bend - stood gathered around the steps of town hall. They had come to hear the words of Travelin' Mike, the famed cure-all salesman. Mike was a known fraud, but boy was he fun to listen to. 

"Come one, come all" exclaimed Travelin' Mike, his long and lustrous mullet sparkling in the sunshine. "Ready yourselves for astonishment and flabbergasteration as I tell you about this miracle of modern medicine: chewable leeches!"

"Tell us more, Travelin' Mike!" Mogey shouted.

"Yes sir, it's everything you love about leeches, now in a chewable form. Cures everything from skin rashes and tummy troubles to toothaches and baldness. Give yourself the gift of youth and vitality you never dreamed of when you were young and vital: Find your soulmate! Get a promotion! Win a greasy pole climbing competition!"

"What else, Travelin' Mike?" asked "Dusty" Ben Mayer, the Mayor of Dusty Bend (and yes, the similarity of his name to that of his station had been a central tenet of his mayoral campaign).

"Well, Mr. Mayor," Travelin' Mike replied uncertainly, "that's about all there is to say about chewable leeches."

"Sell us something else!" a lady in the crowd requested.

"Say," Travelin' Mike murmured as realization dawned, "isn't anyone here going to actually buy anything?"

"Do you sell lessons in public speaking?" Smush queried. "I'd buy a yearlong subscription."

"No, no, no," Travelin' Mike grumped. "I can't share my sales secrets, and I knew there was a reason I hadn't been through here in a while. You Dusty Bendites clearly aren't sophisticated enough for chewable leeches."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 38

 As Mogey hefted each bale of straw onto the wagon, Smush bound it tightly with red licorice ropes. The pals found that the dairy cows who ate straw baled in this way gave milk that was pre-Nestle Quik'd, saving them both time and the ghastly visage of plain white milk.

"Smush," Mogey asked, "would you say I have a loud mouth?"

Smush pondered for a moment. "A loud tummy? Yes."

"Especially before tea time," Mogey agreed.

"But a loud mouth? I wouldn't say so. Not especially."

"That's exactly what I told the fellow at the crossroads. I was in the good wagon with Measly Pete in the reins, and he got us into the intersection first. Yet some gent comes screaming through with a four-in-hand and he tried to go ahead of us. So I says to the man, I says, 'Oi! It's my turn!' And he says to me, he says, 'Fine then! Go ahead, loudmouth!'"

"That's some story," said Smush, tying down another bale of straw. "What'd Mr. Four-in-hand have to say when you disputed his claim?"

"It was the strangest thing," Mogey replied. "He asked Measly Pete for his thoughts on the matter."

"He wanted our draft mule's opinion about whether you're a loudmouth?"

"That's right. And would you believe it, Measly Pete looked me straight in the eye and nodded his head!" 

"Well then, I guess that settles it," Smush noted, taking a sneaky nibble of red licorice rope. "I'll be preserved in a jar of ploughman's pickle before I disagree with Measly Pete."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 37

Smush awoke in the wee hours, realizing quickly that Mogey was tossing and turning in the next hammock over. 

"Psst," Smush whispered. "PSST!"

"Psst yourself," Mogey grumbled, poking his head out. 

"You rang?" queried Psst Coogan, the most syballant student at St. Rumbly's School for Famished Youths. 

"Not you, Coogan!" Smush whispered.

"Hmmph," Psst Coogan replied, laying back down with a raspy sigh.

"You rang?" inquired Hmmph Rodrigues, a surly dwarf three hammocks down.

"By St. Rumbly's sacred divider plate!" Smush exclaimed. "Mogey and I are trying to have a private conversation here!" 

"About what?" Mogey whispered.

"I noticed you were struggling to get some shuteye. What's troubling you?"

"I- I suppose I'm a bit nervous about the ghost."

"Ol' Velveeta?" Smush asked with surprise. "He's harmless!"

"No, no, no," Mogey insisted. "Ol' Velveeta is a ghoul, and not a very ghoulish one at that. I'm talking about St. Rumbly's most infamous spirit: G. Willikers."

"Willikers is pretty spooky," Smush admitted. "But don't worry: He's got a major weakness and I happen to know what it is. Simply mention 'raspberry lime rickeys' and G. Willikers becomes so thirsty that he'll float off in search of beverages."

"Close," called a ghostly voice from the ceiling, "but I actually prefer egggggg creeeeeeeeeeeeams..."

"G. WILLIKERS!" Mogey exclaimed. He, Smush, Psst, Hmmph and all the rest screamed at the tops of their lungs as they scrambled desperately out of their hammocks and sprinted for the dormitory window.

When Brother Antipasto came to awaken the students the following morning, he found them all hunched on the roof, using their hammocks for shelter and muttering about G. Willikers and classic drugstore beverages. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2024 Edition - Episode 36

Mogey's Great Uncle Chaz, the gentleman he'd lived with for several of his boyhood years, was typically quite jovial. But when he descended into a pit of the grumps, the only person who could pull him out was Mogey's best pal Smush. (Or as Great Uncle Chaz called him, "that Squishy fellow.")

On one such occasion, after Great Uncle Chaz was awakened from his afternoon kip by a leafblower and - upon rising - learned that his favorite Thai restaurant had shut down, Smush was sent for with great urgency.

"What seems to be the trouble, G.U.C.?" Smush inquired when he arrived. 

"Nothing, nothing at all," Great Uncle Chaz replied. "I'm perfectly satisfied that my neighbor's gardener seems to think 3 PM is an appropriate time to operate heavy machinery. And I'm not at all bothered that LabraNoodle closed its doors for good with no notification to even the most loyal customers."

"Hmm," Smush said thoughtfully. "Alright. I believe I have an idea that'll cheer you up. Repeat after me: It's all Mogey's fault."

"But he didn't..."

"Uh uh uh," Smush interrupted, wagging a finger (which was for some reason dusted with baby powder) in Chaz's face. "It's all Mogey's fault."

"It's all Mogey's fault?"

"It's all. Mogey's. Fault."

"It's all Mogey's fault," Chaz chorused. "You know something? I do feel better!"

It was at this moment that Mogey appeared, windswept and raw from a lengthy ride on his razor scooter. 

"I came as soon as I heard," he exclaimed. "You've been stricken with grumps, Great Uncle? How can I help?"

"You can get back out there and fire up the woks at LabraNoodle!" Chaz shouted. "And throw your accursed leafblower in the dumpster while you're at it!"

Mogey - for once - was rendered speechless.

"Better do as the man says," Smush added quietly.