Over the years since his male pattern baldness had become male total baldness, Mogey had tried all manner of contrivances to disguise his shiny noggin. He'd worn hooded jackets and cowboy hats, rubbed red pepper on his scalp before bedtime, and even once eaten a soft-boiled duck egg by the light of the full moon.
Nothing worked, and eventually, Mogey always came back around to the idea of wearing a wig, an idea from which Smush tirelessly discouraged him.
"Wigs don't work in a small town," Smush would tell him.
"But why?" Mogey would ask.
"Just think about it," Smush would reply.
Mogey did think about it. Hard. But he never understood why wearing a wig would be any different in their little village than in a big city. After massaging pickle juice into his temples every night for a week without so much as a sprout of hair to show for it, Mogey had had enough. He went down to Elmer Wiggington's Hairpiece Corner and returned that very afternoon with a magnificent mane of auburn locks.
"Wigs don't work in a small town," Smush said, but this time Mogey ignored him.
That night, Mogey and Smush repaired to the Pork Barrel Classic hoedown, and who should they spot upon entering but Charlotte O'Hare, the prettiest gal in town. Mogey had been desperately in love with Charlotte for at least a dozen fortnights, but he never would've had the courage to speak to her with his old bald dome. Now, however, he went straight up to the lass, bowed, and asked respectfully for the next dance.
"Sheesh, Mogey," Charlotte O'Hare exclaimed, laughing uproariously, "that is
some wig!"
"How do you know it's a wig?" Mogey asked.
"Why, I saw you yesterday. This is an awfully small town after all. I know full well that you're balder than the broad side of a barn!"
Over the years since his male pattern baldness had become male total baldness, Mogey had tried all manner of contrivances to disguise his shiny noggin. He'd worn hooded jackets and cowboy hats, rubbed red pepper on his scalp before bedtime, and even once eaten a soft-boiled duck egg by the light of the full moon.
One afternoon, Smush was returning from the masquerade ball with his pants stuffed full of fried shrimp and his jacket stuffed full of fried shrimp when he spotted Mogey perched atop the roof of their house.
"What shall we do today, Mogey?" Smush said as he plucked the very ripest junior bacon cheeseburger from the junior bacon cheeseburger tree and took a large bite.
Mogey and Smush had planned their most epic heist to a T. Supplies had been gathered, blueprints had been analyzed, and the two pals were now tucked away in Baron Mookalverg's attic, biding their time to steal the Baron's most famous bag of candy bears from his sweets safe.
Mogey and Smush huddled together for warmth as they sat high in the ancient beech tree, watching their traps. They were trying to catch the Chirruping Domp, a creature so rare that only one of them had ever lived, and even that one had but a single leg.
"Some gents at the factory told me that I was smoking my pipe all wrong!" Mogey said finally. "They said I didn't put the right stuff in there - what do you pack into the bowl of your pipe?"
"30 seconds more," said the official, glancing down at his watch.
After Mogey and Smush were caught, tried, and convicted for grand hot dog larceny, they were forced to join a work crew as part of the stern sentence handed out by the Honorable Francis Ball-Park (an heir to a hot dog fortune, though he claimed it did not affect his ruling). The work crew set to digging ditches behind the mayor's house that would carry the mayor's spittoon juice far away from the city center.
Smush was reading the funny pages of the So Totally Super Serious Financial Economic Times one morning when Mogey appeared, wearing a leather vest, a red cape, and scuba diving goggles.
Posts
