"Have you been to the new Italian bathhouse in town?" Mogey asked one foggy Wednesday.
"Spa Ghetti?" Smush said. "No, money's a bit tight at the moment, but I hear they offer a minestrone foot soak that's to die for."
"Well money's not tight anymore. I won big at pakapoo last night and I'm treating you to an all-expenses-paid Wednesday at Spa Ghetti!" Mogey exclaimed.
After tracking down their bathing costumes, Mogey and Smush made their way to Spa Ghetti, where they were checked in by the warm and cheerful Ma Ghetti and Pa Ghetti. The lovely Miss Sha Ghetti led them to a well-appointed chamber that contained a mineral spring, several racks of towels, and a bubbling pot of meatballs.
"You get settled in, Smush," Mogey said, "I'm going to see if I can track down some Mr. Pibb."
Smush made himself comfortable, grabbing a brace of meatballs and sliding into the fizzing spring. He must have fallen asleep, because he was awoken some time later by the sound of a six pack of Mr. Pibb shattering upon the marble floor.
"What stinks of vinegar?" Mogey demanded. He was still holding his arms in front of his chest as if the Mr. Pibb had not fallen spectacularly out of them. "And what do you have on your eyes?"
"Pickles," Smush replied, peeling the pickle off his left eye and popping it into his mouth. "Want one?"
"No! Why would I want pickles at Spa Ghetti? Where did you even find pickles at Spa Ghetti?"
"Oh I brought these from home." Smush showed his pal the whole jar. "I've always seen how people in the movies wear pickles on their eyes at the spa, so I have plenty, just in case."
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