Pat pat pat
Smush's eyes snapped open. He gazed around the circular confines of his tepee wondering what had awoken him, but seeing nothing, he laid his head back down on the furs.
Pat pat pat
There it was again! Smush untangled himself from the mixture of blankets, stuffed animals, and pizza roll wrappers and poked his head out the tent flap.
"Is that you, Mogey?" he queried.
"Indeed! Didn't you hear my knocking?"
"How many times must I tell you that it is simply not possible to knock on the door of a tepee? And why are you wearing your galoshes?"
"Puddles," Mogey replied simply, sweeping his arm across the valley. Smush gave his pal a long and indecipherable look.
"You know something?" he said. "You're exactly right!" He sprinted inside the tepee, pulled on his own galoshes, and proceeded to frolic out into the many pools of water that had accumulated overnight.
Smush found a particularly meaty puddle and was having a good old splash-about when the beat dropped. A blast of house music echoed through the valley, intense enough to vibrate the surface of the water he stood in.
"Erm," Mogey said awkwardly. He had donned a pair of tinted sunglasses and a feather boa. "I think you may have misunderstood. I was referring to Mudd D. Puddles, that DJ who uses galoshes to scratch his records. He's doing a concert t'other side of the valley!"
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