Mogey and Smush ran a mouse food shop. It was the only mouse food shop in town, so they had few competitors except for that old antagonist of mouse food purveyors everywhere: crumbs.
Mogey had inherited the shop from his great uncle Spy C. Brown. Unc Brown had found great success in the mustard industry later in life, but it was only his first business venture, the mouse food shop, that he'd bestowed upon his great nephew. Over the years, Smush had attempted to convince his pal to expand the shop's offerings, at the very least to include other rodent foods, but Unc Brown had made his wishes very clear.
"Today's the day, Moge-man," Smush said, ting-a-linging the shop's bell as he entered. "You promised me that if we didn't see a customer for 30 straight days, we could finally sell this shop and use the proceeds for those balloon-tying courses we've been wanting to take."
"Gosh, I hope someone comes in today," Mogey groaned.
"Why? Don't you want to be rid of this albatross around your neck once and for all?"
"Albatross? The island prison?"
"No, Mogey, it's an idi--"
"I suppose it does sometimes feel like the shop is surrounded by shark-infested waters," Mogey said thoughtfully. "If by sharks you mean crumbs."
"Forget the albatross! I just meant--"
"And I even look at myself as a bit of a birdman from time to time," Mogey stated. "Although instead of raising birds, I'm producing foods for mice that are both tasty and nutritious UNLIKE crumbs. Those darn free crumbs."
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