The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 24

 One evening, Mogey and Smush called on their pals, the McGill brothers - Bill, Phil, and Herman - or as they were known in their traveling acrobatics show, "The Witless Triplets."  

In the midst of the merriment, Mogey turned to Bill McGill. "Might I use your washroom?" he asked.

"Of course," replied Bill, midway through his third set of pull-ups that evening, "just hang on a tick. Phil is in there at the moment."

"Surely you must have a washroom on the second floor of the McGill estate?"

"We do," Bill answered. "Although we prefer to call it 'Witless Manor.' But I wouldn't recommend using our upstairs lavatory - the entire second story is haunted beyond belief. Simply riddled with ghouls, I tell you."

"Boo to that," Smush chimed in, "Mogey hasn't met the ghost yet who could frighten him." Though Smush couldn't help but notice that his pal had jumped at the word "boo."

"Aye," Mogey agreed. "There's really only one spirit on the planet who could frighten me, and I highly doubt he dwells in the residence of three elite athletes." 

"Suit yourself," said Herman McGill, rising for his ninth rep of Romanian deadlifts. "The stairs are just to the left."

Mogey mounted the creaky wooden steps and entered a second floor hallway becobwebbed and echoing with strange sounds. He could see the washroom at the far end, but three doorways adorned the path to reach it. As he passed the first, a floating, pearly figure with eyes blacker than the most burnt sugar cookie burst forth.

"WOOoooOOOooo!" the ghost moaned.

"Nah," said Mogey, and he strode on.

The second door he passed melted to a puddle, revealing a skeleton draped in clanking chains. 

"Join usssssss," hissed the skeleton.

"Meh," said Mogey, and he strode on. 

The third door swung open slowly, gripped from the inside by a hand of mysterious construct. The fingers were fat, greasy, and golden brown. 

"No," said Mogey shakily, "it couldn't be!"

But as the door swung open fully, a figure appeared. A figure whose fingers, nose, and hair were all clearly made of cornmeal-robed hot dogs. Mogey shrieked so loudly it covered the growling of his tummy, and took off for the staircase faster than Mulligan Plunk (the slickest seal in Labrador) slides down an ice floe.

Smush took one look at his pal's ashen face as Mogey re-entered the gathering. "The Ghost of Corndogs Past?" he asked.

"The Ghost of Corndogs Past," Mogey confirmed. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 23

 "Seems we have a problem," said Smush, as the two pals sat on the curb outside Purvis McGloin's Candles n' More. The candle shop offered free smells, of which he and Mogey had taken full advantage. "With our nostrils exhausted to this degree, walking home is simply out of the question. Let us lay out our options."

"Agreed," Mogey agreed. "Let's see: Well, of course there's the omnibus."

"Quite. Squeaky Harry's haywagon would take us most of the way - I saw it parked behind the bagelerie."

"Those two young toads have also started running that bathtub pedicab. What's their slogan again?"

"The wetter the ride, the better the ride," Smush said. "All reasonable options, but none of them particularly appealing."

Just then, a monstrosity of a vehicle pulled up before them. Its massive engines sounded like two robot dragons in a wrestling match that had started out playful but then turned overly intense. Its paint was pinker than a brand new donut box. And each of its six wheels stood higher than Mogey and Smush (and nearly as wide). This could be no one but Frederick "The Walking Knuckle" De La Tarta, muscle car enthusiast, pro-gluten activist, and Mogey and Smush's next door neighbor.

Mogey and Smush took one look at each other. "CHANGE OF PLANS!" they announced in unison. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 22

 "Sandwiches up!" Smush said, swerving out of the kitchen with two towering dagwoods. 

Mogey sat at the barrel that he, Smush, and their four other roommates used as a table, slavering like a wolf whose grandma just made her famous triple cheeseburger linguini. 

"Hear, hear!" Mogey commended his pal. "A prodigious effort!"

Mogey was (shockingly) correct: the sandwich Smush had delivered stood at least a foot high, and contained four different meats, two varietals of fried potato, six sauces, and zero fresh vegetables. 

Each pal hefted his respective tall stack, opened his maw, and gobbled a bite.

"PTOOIE!" Mogey spluttered, spraying half-chewed dagwood onto the wall. "What is that foul, sour flavor?"

"You mean mustard?" Smush demanded. "You asked for mustard!"

"That's not mustard. Lovely, cold, sweet, eggy mustard would never taste of vinegar and rot!"

"Are you sure you're not thinking of custard?" 

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh," said Mogey, snapping his finger regretfully. "Custard!"

"On a sandwich?" Smush exclaimed.

"Better make it two scoops," Mogey muttered, seizing his plate and heading for the ice chest. "That ought to be enough to cover up the nasty mustard taste."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 21

 BONGGGGGGGG!

Mogey and Smush both clapped their hands to their ears as the massive bell rang out just above their heads. 

"Great good ghosties!" Smush exclaimed. "I had no idea it would be so loud. I think one of my fillings vibrated right out of my teeth! Let's press on," he added, pointing up the stairs.

The pals mounted the wooden steps, which brought them directly behind the face of Goliath's Pocketwatch, the clock tower that loomed above the city. 

"Alright, Moge-man," Smush intoned, "this is the most critical part of our plan, so let's not rush anything. I've got some complex geometry to think through, and we've only got one shot at this."

Smush got to one knee and began to scratch figures into the dusty wood with a charcoal stick. Upon hearing a loud clanking noise, he glanced up to see Mogey hauling away on a windlass.

"NO!" Smush shrieked. "Do you realize what you've done? You turned the clock hands the wrong way! Instead of serving breakfast an hour later in the day, Clucks Deluxe Chicken & Ducks is going to STOP serving it an hour early. Months of planning, foiled!"

Despite this tirade, Mogey continued to crank the windlass, so Smush finally dashed the metal grip out of his pal's hand. 

"Huh?" Mogey jabbered. "What'd you do that for?"

"Haven't you heard a word I've said?" Smush demanded.

"Sorry, Smushster," Mogey said. "I can't hear you. I haven't heard a thing since that confounded bell went off. Say!" he went on, pointing to a miniscule white object on the clock tower floor. "Is that one of your dental fillings?"

Still oblivious to his friend's dismay, Mogey strode over to the item in question, picked it up, and then shook his head. "Never mind," he concluded. "False alarm. It's just a tic tac."

"Gimme that!" Smush cried. "Tic tacs are what my dentist uses for fillings. Haven't you ever wondered why I'm constantly at his office? And why my breath is so relentlessly fresh?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 20

 The harvest was rich that year, so Mogey and Smush spent much of the early autumn in the vegetable garden, collecting nature's bounty. On a cloudy day they set out to gather the carrots, whose bushy green tops were reminiscent of Smush's Grandpa Duckbutz's ear hairs (only greener). 

Mogey selected one row, Smush stood astride another, and the pals began to pull and pull. As they worked, Smush noticed a glint of something metallic in one of Mogey's handfuls.

"What's all this?" Smush asked, coming nearer to inspect. He discovered that every carrot in Mogey's bunch appeared to be wrapped in orange foil. "Did you... did you bury a bunch of chocolate carrots this spring instead of planting seeds?"

"Of course," Mogey scoffed. "What did you plant? Those nasty crunchy things?"

"Those nasty crunchy things are actual carrots," Smush replied. "If they're just chocolate carrots, why'd you bury them to begin with?"

"A few months underground gives them a lovely earthy flavor," Mogey answered, ripping the foil from one chocolate and biting into it with a satisfied sigh. "Isn't Mother Nature amazing?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 19

 As soon as the door swung open, Mogey and Smush joyfully launched into their business slogan:

"Mogey and Smush's Babysitting Service, at your babysitting service," Smush announced.

"We sit on your baby!" Mogey exclaimed.

"So you don't have to!" Smush chimed in.

The slightly bewildered young couple in the doorway stared for a moment before welcoming the pals into their home.

"Let's introduce you to Alan," the mother said, leading Mogey toward a playpen in the drawing room.

The father plucked at Smush's sleeve and spoke to him in a quiet voice. "You fellows are experienced, aren't you?"

"Oh yes," Smush assured him, "we've been caring for infants nigh on a decade. You needn't worry about a thing: Your child is in very safe hands."

A bloodcurdling shriek summoned them into the drawing room. There they found Mogey fully inside the playpen, being eyed skeptically by an extremely fat baby while the mother desperately pulled on his jacket in an attempt to haul him out. 

"He keeps trying to SIT on Alan!" she cried.

"Of course," Smush noted, "I should mention that all of our previous clients have been geese."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 18

Back in those days, an almighty power ruled the land. A fundamental tension between two near-omnipotent beings known as The Wrinkler and The Polisher. Mogey and Smush had sworn the kind of vow they revered above all others - a so-called "Gravy Oath" - never to interfere in the eternal conflict between The Wrinkler and The Polisher, and for many years they were successful. But one foggy morning that was all to change.

"Avast, Smush! Pull harder on that yardarm, ye landlubber!" 

"This is a tiny rowboat, Mogey - we don't even have a yardarm," Smush replied. 

"I'll be havin' ye swabbin' the fo'c'sle if I hear any more of that scuttlebutt," Mogey scolded. 

To this, Smush responded in the only reasonable way: He splashed Mogey with an oar. Mogey seized the other oar for a thunderous revenge splash and soon the waters surrounding the boat were frothing like Uncle Jerry's whiskers after one of his monthly alka seltzer tooth brushings. 

A loud cackle suddenly disturbed the pals' battle. They looked up to see that a slim man had appeared on the shore. He wore a small black bandit mask, but the rest of his face was wrinklier than a cartoon grandpa at a standup comedy show. 

"Good lord," Smush said, staying Mogey's hand, "do you realize what we've done? Waves are the wrinkles of the sea. We've attracted the notice of The Wrinkler!"

The Wrinkler cackled again and raised his arms. Though Mogey and Smush had ceased splashing, the little waves they'd made did not subside. Instead they grew and grew as The Wrinkler whipped the small pond into a frenzy.

"Enough!" thundered a new voice on the opposite shore. Here stood a short, rotund little man with the baldest, shiniest head Mogey and Smush had ever seen. He raised his hands and the water before him smoothed to a mirror finish. 

"The Polisher!" Mogey breathed.

Now these existential foes went at it, alternately stirring and stilling the water, with Mogey and Smush caught right in the middle. Their little boat would be torn apart in moments at this rate, and then where would they be? Knee- to waist-deep in moderately chilly water, is where.

"Gentlemen!" Mogey announced suddenly. Smush jerked his head 'round, but acknowledged with a little wag of his chin that they had no choice but to break their gravy oath. "Surely we can reach some compromise here! Are rough and smooth surfaces really so different, in the end?"

"They couldn't be more different," The Wrinkler said. "By definition."

"It's literally our entire thing," agreed The Polisher.

"I suppose," Mogey acknowledged. "Hmmm. How's this, then? What if we divide up a little pond like this equitably? Surely the vast majority of the water is down below: The depths remain polished, while the surface may be entirely wrinkled with waves."

The Wrinkler and The Polisher regarded Mogey and each other for a long moment.

"I could go for that," said The Polisher.

"I suppose I could too," said The Wrinkler.

Mogey and Smush breathed a sigh of relief (and hunger) and began slotting their oars back into place to row to shore.

"...except," said The Wrinkler.

"Oh no," said Smush.

"...that I'm not The Wrinkler at all!" The being they thought was The Wrinkler whipped off his bandit's mask to reveal a virtually identical mask beneath. "I'm his chaotic twin brother, THE CRINKLER! The deal is off!" he shouted, and immediately began stirring up a mighty set of waves that reached to the bottom of the pond's briny depths.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 17

 "How many--" Smush began before his pal interrupted him. 

"Eight hundred and twelve!" Mogey exclaimed.

"No, let me finish. How many--"

"One million!"

"Mogey...."

"And one!"

"Confound it, Mogey! How many--"

"Seven?"

Here Smush paused. First he pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he looked skyward for a long time. Finally he sneezed prodigiously.

"Bless you!" Mogey said. "Are you alright?" 

"Achoo!" Smush sneezed again. "I'b fide, but I shouldn't have touched by doze! I must've had some pepper on by hand." 

"Well, you did just power through an entire bucket of salt'n'pepper'n'lemon'n'garlic tater munch'ums," Mogey suggested. "Say, what were you going to ask me before? How many..."

"I was going to ask how many times you would interrupt me before I would need to sneeze."

"Wow," said Mogey. "Meta. And? How many was it?"

"Ah, yes," Smush replied, turning to his adding machine. "Well, the number of interruptions was--"

"Eleven!" Mogey shouted.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 16

 Mogey marched out of his yurt to where Smush sat before the fire pit, whittling a life-size corncob out of a piece of driftwood. He angrily thrust a fuzzy sweater under his pal's nose.

"Did you fold this?" Mogey demanded.

"No," Smush replied.

"Because it's genuine alpaca, you know!"

"Didn't fold it."

"It has to be folded in a very specific way or it loses its magical fluffy qualities!"

"Twasn't me." 

"Well then who 'twas it?" Mogey shouted.

Smush calmly continued whittling a particularly lifelike kernel of corn for a long time, before he looked off to the horizon for an extensive period, and finally let out a protracted whistle. "In uncertain times like these you never can tell - it could've been anyone really. But my money would be on Bruce Foldington."

"Who?"

"You know that gnome who's always hanging around the camp, trying to fold stuff?"

"Ohhhh," Mogey answered with a nod of dawning realization, "Bruce Foldington."

"What'd you think I said?" Smush queried.

"Erm.. 'Moose...' Foldington? Anyhow, I suppose it's not his fault... he just can't resist folding things."

"And I admit it, too! Twas me!" exclaimed a small individual with a pointy beard, pointy hat, and pointy elbows as a burst out from under a pile of origami swans. "But you'll never catch me alive - never!" He snatched the sweater from Mogey's hands, folded it into a perfect square, and ran out of the camp, cackling like a witch whose steroids arrived early. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 15

 "Hand me a carabiner, will you, Mogey?" Smush grunted, reaching down to his pal. 

"A wot now?" demanded a goose with dreadlocks who was nestled into the sheer cliff face.

"Ah!" said a startled Smush, almost losing his handhold. "A, um, a carabiner?"

"I'm a Caribbeaner!" said the goose indignantly.

"Oh ho ho this is just a misunderstanding," Smush replied, edging his way along the cliff to get a bit more distance from the goose's imposing bill. "A carabiner is just... it's a sort of, well... Mogey, where is that carabiner?"

"Coming right up, cap'n!" Mogey said from down below.

Mogey clambered up the rock face toward the place where Smush clung, and then:

"Put me down, mon!" the goose squawked as Mogey tried to seize him about the middle. 

And that is the story of how the Great Caribbean Cliff Goose Debacle - the third diplomatic incident involving Mogey and Smush - began. Two formal apologies, three emissaries, and a state gift of fancy cantaloupes later, war was averted, but international relations (and one of Mogey's ears) would never be the same. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 14

 If ever a dirty job needed to be done on Mogey and Smush's ranch (El Rancho De Queso), the pals had a time-honored method for deciding who would do it. This method was called Skunk Trial. Each pal would present an assiduously researched case for why he should not be the one required to perform the task to an impartial judge: A wise old ptarmigan named Chilly Pete. After hearing the arguments, Chilly Pete would declare one pal the skunk and one pal Lord Pepperjack. 

While the skunk completed the work in question, the Lord Pepperjack was required to act as aristocratically as possible. Typical activities for a Lord Pepperjack could include ostentatiously smoking chocolate cigars, drinking champagne, ostentatiously smoking liquorice pipes, and buying an entire newspaper, reading only the funny pages, and throwing the rest of the paper away.

After one such Skunk Trial, Smush tromped out of the water closet, wet from head to toe and covered in axle grease. 

"Ah, myes, young Smush," said Mogey, peering over the top of the R volume of Encyclopedia Britannica, which Smush couldn't help but notice was upside-down. "How goes the elimination of that pesky clog in our sink?" 

"Finished! And you're never going to guess what was stopping up the drain."

"A bean burrito! Ahem--," Mogey stammered, remembering his obligation as Lord Pepperjack. "What I mean to say, old bean (burrito), is that I might contend 'twas a legume-based delicacy causing the obstruction."

"Incorrect," Smush replied. "You'll never guess it."

"A bundle of old lottery tickets? Ahem-- winning lottery tickets?"

"It is unguessable, I say!" 

"Wait! Wait! One more guess: Was it... the golden egg of a golden bog goblin?"

"Mogey," Smush said, shaking his head, "you never cease to astound me." From behind his back he pulled a gilded orb aglow with goblinish glamour. Chilly Pete gasped aloud and nearly fell out of his nest atop a stack of Encyclopedia Britannicas.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 13

 On a foggy afternoon when all one could possibly do was hole up in some cozy study with a canvas-bound book or drink a steaming cup of bone broth with hot english mustard to try and shake the chill from one's bones, Mogey and Smush were out on a caper. Technically, they were out on two capers simultaneously: Mogey was working a scheme he called "Woodchuck Weight Watchers" while Smush had a shenanigan brewing to procure deeply-discounted slush from italian ice vendors. 

This meant that - like nearly every one of the pals' capers - they found themselves in a bird blind in the city park, two pairs of binocs at their eyes, a party size bag of cheddar 'n' cheddar potato chips at their sides. 

"Say!" Mogey exclaimed, batting at Smush's sleeve. "Look who just walked up the gazebo steps!"

"Is that the pigeon who used to bully you in middle school?" Smush asked with a swivel of his binocs. 

"What? Brian 'Big Pidge' Boikins? It couldn't be. It shouldn't be. It wouldn't be. Would it? And anyhow, I was talking about the human man standing down there. It's Mather Mallow, of all people!"

"The confection mogul?"

"No," said Mogey, "the other Mather Mallow."

"Ah," Smush said, "the celebrity hog-rasslin' fitness instructor."

"I suppose it's the other other Mather Mallow."

"Of course - the famed eavesdropper and carnival game master who will challenge any man, beast, or spirit to out-hear him?"

"Wow," Mogey opined, "I never realized there were so many notable Mather Mallows in our community."

"There sure are!" Mather Mallow shouted from the gazebo, giving Mogey and Smush the best double pistol wink they'd seen since they offered 'Big Pidge' Boikins a fresh stick of bubblegum. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 12

 "This is so exciting," Mogey intoned gleefully, "I've always wanted to know more about your childhood, Smush!" 

Smush's sister, Anastasia Smush, had come to visit, her first call since Mogey and Smush had become pals, business partners, and co-arch enemies of Raymond "Nails" Murdock, the local cobbler and star linebacker. To get her better acquainted with the area, Mogey and Smush had brought Anastasia along on a morning constitutional through The Forest of Drip (so-called for the intense moisture and gaudy jewelry worn by local gnomes). 

"Sorry, Mogey," said Anastasia, "but I've been sworn to secrecy."

"Grumble, grumble," Smush mumbled.

"Did you just say the words 'grumble, grumble,?'" Mogey queried.

"Grumble," Smush replied.

"Anyhoo," said Mogey, as they walked through a particularly humid patch of forest, startling a pair of gnomes who were comparing diamond nose rings, "did you ever wonder why there are so many ferns growing in these damp woods?"

"Well," Smush answered, "most ferns are epiphytic vascular plants that harvest moisture from the air around them. It's only natural that they'd grow in rainforests, riverbanks, and other damp areas."

"Uh... huh..." Mogey said, his curiosity piqued. "And what about pine forests? Have you any idea why I breathe so much easier in a fine stand of pines?"

Anastasia Smush replied without a thought. "Many evergreens emit phytoncides which have been shown to have anti-inflammatory properties." 

"Wow!" Mogey exclaimed. "How do the two of you know so much about plants?" 

"It probably comes naturally to us because our maternal grandmother was a cabbage nymph and our father--" Anastasia began.

"AMATEUR BOTANY!" Smush interrupted. "We Smushes are real horticulture freaks. And we had a great section on plants in our public library."

An awkward silence befell the trio then, broken only by the jingling of gnome chains in the breeze.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 11

 "Smush! Smush!" Mogey shouted, tumbling into the fo'c'sle and shaking the sturdy (yet strained) hammock in which his pal was ensconced. "The ol' salts' fables are true. The ol' peppers' too! There's a mermaid off our starboard bow!"

"What?" Smush exclaimed. "Help me up, will you?" 

After five minutes of collaborative effort, Mogey managed to help Smush extract himself from the hammock, and the pals emerged sweatily onto the foredeck.

"Where is she?" Smush whispered urgently. 

"Just over there - here, take this," Mogey said, handing Smush a harpoon and leaning on a second sea spear as he scanned the brilliant blue waters that surrounded them.

"What's this-- you want to eat the mermaid?" 

"Remember that ol' pepper we encountered back in Port St. Gunch? He claimed a filet of mermaid tastes like fine cheesecake, only fishier." 

"Aye," Smush agreed, "but how many times have I told you: You've got to think ahead out here on the high seas. You've got to play the long game. Now what if, instead of worrying about who's going to eat who, we convince the mermaid to join forces with us?"

"Ingenius!" Mogey replied. "She'd be able to catch more fish than we could ever eat. Plus there'd be a visit to her underwater castle, and the potential addition of a cuttlefish sidekick to our crew - you know I've always thought we needed a cuttlefish sidekick - count me in!"

"Good. Now where is our new shipmate? I still can't see her."

"Just there," Mogey said, pointing with his harpoon.

"That's..." Smush replied hesitantly "that's an old traffic cone covered in barnacles."

"Ah, so it is." Mogey looked crestfallen for a moment before something off the port side caught his eye. "Wait a moment, Smush. Wait just a moment! I believe I've spotted... yes I have! The floating marshmallow sandwich of legend. The ol' peppers have really done it this time!" 

Smush trudged back toward the fo'c'sle with the demeanor of a thoroughbred who just lost the steeplechase to two cheetahs in a horse costume. Ten nautical miles away, Mitch "Ol' Pepper" Bixby, a jalapeno farmer, local historian, and general ne'er-do-well, watched the proceedings through his spyglass and chuckled merrily. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 10

 The Map Room at Porkstew House contained all the treasures one would expect to find in a noble estate, plus many more: yellowing globes kissed by the glow of time and patience, weird old atlases that for some reason depicted sea monsters, and even - rumor had it - a treasure map that would guide its owner to the lost hoard of Cap'n Bugbeard the Fragrant. 

It was in search of this final prize that Mogey and Smush had visited their black sheep, Glumly, for a pair of dark woolen face masks (Glumly was quite the sneakthief himself), and snuck into Porkstew House under cover of night. With them they had brought Unctuous, a bloodhound who specialized in sniffing out treasure maps.

"What booty do you think will be in Cap'n Bugbeard's hoard?" Mogey whispered. 

"Shh!" Smush shushed. "We can talk about whether Bugbeard's treasure does or does not contain still-valid Discovery Zone prize tickets when we find the map, and not before."

"I think Unctuous may've caught the scent!" Mogey announced, chasing behind the snuffling hound. 

Their trusty tracker led the pals to a tall chest of drawers and slapped one of his long ears meatily into the third cabinet from the top. With the utmost care, Smush yanked the drawer open, flooding the Map Room with an odor so eye-wateringly potent that all three of the would-be burglars fell onto their backsides. Unctuous covered his nose with an antique navigation chart.

"That's Bugbeard's fragrance, all right!" Smush exclaimed. "Unctuous, my friend, you've done it again."

"Wait," Mogey cautioned, "where is it? The drawer is empty! Where's the treasure map?"

"Looking for this?" bleated a round, shadowy figure crouched in the catwalk above. The figure waved a discolored scrap of parchment at them.

"Glumly??" cried Mogey and Smush in unison.

"Correct you are!" their sheep replied, visibly fighting back nausea as he folded the parchment up. "And if this map is any indication, I can't wait to see how bad Bugbeard's treasure smells. See you at Discovery Zone, dunderheads!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 9

 Smush climbed down from the hayloft where he'd enjoyed a modest 18-hour nap, bleary-eyed and beer-ly wide. He encountered Mogey in the corn crib, where his pal was laughing maniacally and wearing a stunning maroon cape.

"BWAHAHAHA," Mogey cackled.

"Oh no," Smush groaned. "It's happened again, hasn't it?"

"BWA-- I mean, what?" stammed Mogey.

"Some tiny amount of power has gone to your head. There was that incident when you began intentionally stalling at the front of the lunch rush line at Taco Lord, and don't even get me started on the 3rd-grade tae kwon do tournament you officiated.... What is it this time?"

Mogey hesitated for a moment, but then a broad and devilish smile crept across his face: The expression of a killer whale who's just noticed that a vessel hauling tartar sauce is taking on water.

"All right," Mogey said, "I'll tell you. But only because it's too late - I can no longer be stopped! I have in my possession," he continued, dramatically holding up a thick stack of cards, "enough certificates to take full control of the potato market in this entire region. And when you control the potatoes, guess what, my doubtful dude? You control it all. We're talking french fries, we're talking hash browns, we're talking mash, we're even talking... tater tots. Imagine what people will pay when they haven't eaten a tot for two weeks? Imagine what they'll do? BWAHAHA!"

"Mogey," Smush responded, snatching one of the coupons from Mogey's stack, "this is a 10-potatoes-for-10-dollars coupon from Piggly Wiggly. That's not even a very good deal. It also says 'limit: two per customer.'"

"BWAHAHAHA," was Mogey's only reply.

 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 8

 Around the turn of the century - well, the turn of a century, anyway - a most curious phenomenon swept through Dense City. Almost overnight, for no apparent reason, every man, woman, and child in the metropolis began to wear comedicaly large hats 24 hours a day. There were formal hats (berets and sombreros, mostly), sleeping caps, driving bonnets, hats for bicycling, dining, and even specialized headdresses to be worn only while digging ditches. And each and every one of these lids spanned at least four feet in diameter.

Bruce Hatman, Dense City's foremost and only hatmaker, went from making leather-n-cabbage soup out of unsold flat caps one night to becoming the hottest purveyor in town the next. Lines in front of his shop - Hatman's Hats, Man - stretched for miles, and many desperate customers waited days for a chance to buy a Hatman original.

Luckily for Mogey and Smush, Bruce Hatman owed them a favor. He'd once accumulated a sizable debt playing Trouble for money (Smush was a savant with the Pop-o-Matic in the center of the board), but the pals had forgiven his liability in exchange for a pair of bucket hats. Now, of course, these buckets had gone out of fashion worse than moustaches on saints. 

"Mogey! Smush! Welcome, my friends," Hatman beckoned the pals, giving both of them a kiss on each cheek. He even lifted Mogey's jowls a bit to make sure his smooch landed. Adjusting a necklace made of gold, jewels, leopard fangs, rhino horns, and chunks of meteorite, he ushered them into Hatman's Hats, Man. "I've got something marvelous picked out for each of you. HIGGINS! CHOP CHOP!" 

A rather harried man in a tuxedo with a small flounder wriggling away in his breast pocket scurried forward holding two hat boxes the size of helipads. 

"Away with you, Higgins," Hatman muttered, shooing the tuxedoed man with a hand bearing at least seven different rings.

"Sir, I--"

"I SAID THAT WILL BE ALL, HIGGINS," howled Hatman. Higgins scurried back the way he had come, leaving the hat boxes behind. "As I was saying," Hatman continued, rolling his eyes, "I've found Hatman originals that will complement each of your, ahem, physiques beautifully. You first, Smush."

Hatman opened the first hat box to reveal an enormous sun hat made entirely out of tortilla chip. The pals gasped.

"And for you, Mogey, I wanted to do something extra special. I remember how much you like birds..."

"I actively despise birds," Mogey mumbled.

"...and so I wanted to capture your avian spirit," Hatman went on. "Behold!" He removed the second hat box's lid, unveiling a wide-brimmed straw boater hat with an extremely ugly and - it is not unfair to say - parsimonious-looking penguin mounted atop it. 

"What in heaven's name is that foul creature?" Mogey exclaimed.

"I think it's a crow?" Smush offered. "Some kind of swift-flying bird for sure."

"Enjoy the hats!" Hatman announced. "I've got to go fit the mayor for a new extra large bowler I've invented. I'm calling it," he whispered conspiratorially, "the 'big bowler.' Ta-ta!" 

"You know," said Mogey once Hatman disappeared, "I think I liked him better before this big hat craze. Back when he was just a man who loved high stakes Trouble and hat soup."

"I'm not so sure," said Smush, crunching an enormous bite from the brim of his hat. "I think he's got some good ideas."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 7

 "I've been thinking," announced Smush one clammy Sunday morning, "that we should repave the drive."

"Capital idea," Mogey agreed. "What shall be our substrate of choice? Tarmacadam? Cement? Grass?"

"I've got something better than any of those in mind: Gravel."

"Gravel, you say? How peculiar. The biscuit kind or the mashed potatoes kind?"

"That's gravy," said Smush. "Gosh, Mogey, does everything come back to food with you?"

"What else is there?"

"For the love of blubber," Smush said, shaking his head. "Gravel is just a load of really small rocks. But I don't think we should use just any gravel. Not on our drive. For our drive, we're going to use fruity pebbles."

"But--"

"I know what you're worried about," Smush interrupted, "all that breakfast cereal will mean ants. And ants will mean anteaters. And we can't afford another aardvark war, not after how Aardvark War III decimated the local economy. But just think how lovely and crisp fruity pebbles will sound beneath the buggy's wheels. How delicious our drive will smell on a hot summer afternoon."

"But, Smush," Mogey said at last, "as delightful as that sounds, what about May Day? Toucan Sam will never bring us May Day presents if we decorate our drive with the products of his sworn enemies." 

"Bosh!" exclaimed Smush, plopping a case of fruity pebbles onto the table (of course, consulting with Mogey about repaving the drive had been a mere formality all along). "How many silly tales did your Pappy tell you? There's no such thing as--"

There Smush was interrupted by an ominous tapping at the kitchen window. Its source was a toucan beak: Curved, cruel, and clearly in pursuit of rampant vengeance.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 6

 "There she is, Mogey," Smush said, pointing to a young lady sitting in the far corner of the cafe. "Nelly Simmons-Timmons." 

"Is she the one reading Weakly Weekly or the one wearing the 10-gallon hat?" 

"She's the one with the pop-tart in her lapel. See?"

"Ah," said Mogey, somewhat nervously. "I'm not sure about this, Smush. I've never been on a blind date before."

"Nonsense," Smush replied. "What did I tell you? Nelly Simmons-Timmons is one of the bubbliest young ladies around. You two will get along like a racoon and a garbage bag full of shredded wheat."

"'Bubbliest?' Does that mean she washes her hands a lot?"

"No, it's an expression. It means she--"

"Oh... oh! Does it mean she has carbuncles?" Mogey inquired.

"Of course not," said Smush. "She--"

"I know - it must mean she drinks a lot of soda. Is that it? Maybe you're right that we'll hit it off. After all, I do love soda."

"No, Mogey, see here: it's--" 

Smush was cut off mid-sentence by Nelly Simmons-Timmons herself, who took a long pull of her Big Gulp and let out a cafe-silencing belch.

"Pardon me," Mogey said, dreamily pushing past his pal, "I do believe I'm in love."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 5

 "Let's see," said Mogey as he portioned out the week's rations, "six burritos apiece for lunch, four for dinner, then there's my ten o'clock burrito break, and I'll need a couple for midnight snacks, so if I add these numbers, carry the one and... drat!"

"Trouble with your burrito math?" queried Smush. 

"Indeed," Mogey replied. "I can't do all these figures in my head - I need my octopus."

"I think you mean your abacus?"

"I think not."

"But Mogey," said Smush, "even if you did use an octopus for counting, we clearly have many, many more than eight burritos to count."

"You'll see," Mogey replied. He dashed up the first few steps of the staircase, immediately lost his breath, and staggered slowly up the rest of the flight. 

Mogey returned moments later, holding in his arms none other than Blubberculus, the 90-legged octopus and known felon. Evidently, Blubberculus wasn't hiding out in Cyprus as the media had speculated, but instead had been living in the secret saltwater tank Mogey kept behind his DVD collection.

"Mogey," Smush whispered, "you're aiding and abetting a fugitive!"

"HOLD IT!" Mogey shouted. "I may be aiding, but I'll skip one of my two midnight burritos before I sit here and allow you to say I'm abetting! Besides, you know my personal motto."

"Not this again..."

"Burritos..." Mogey coaxed. 

"I know, I know. 'Burritos first, then civic duty,'" Smush recited. "Fine, but let's get these 'ritos counted quickly and call the cops. Blubberculus is due for another felony, and the way he's looking at me, I have a feeling I'm going to be involved."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 4

 Whuff-whuff-whuff-whuff PHOOOOOOOOO! blared the steam engine of the Coldroast & Taterskeen Railway. As they settled into their seats, Mogey and Smush were nearly beside themselves with excitement. They'd never ridden aboard a trans-county railway before. While they looked forward to reaching their destination (a picturesque lake town called Cheddar-upon-Burger), a more immediate thrill had captured their imaginations: The snack trolley.

"Do you see it? Is it coming?" Mogey exclaimed.

"Not yet, but we've only just left the station," said Smush. 

"Well keep your eyes open, man! We can't miss it!" 

Fifteen of the most excruciating minutes of Mogey and Smush's lives passed before a harried but mysterious young man pushed a small metal cart into their car. In their anticipation, Mogey gnawed on Smush's upper arm twice, while Smush accidentally drooled upon the neighbor in the next seat. Luckily, their fellow passenger was a sentient plant named Drat Cactus who didn't mind in the least. At last the trolley reached their row.

"Ah yes," Mogey said politely, dislodging his teeth from Smush's elbow, "I suppose I'll have... a western bacon double cheeseburger, one cistern of rarebit, and a Hawaiian Punch Polar Blast." 

"I'm sorry, sir," answered the trolley attendant, "but we've only got tea and muesli bars."

"Fair enough," Mogey rejoined. "A single cheeseburger will be fine."

"Um, it's... it's really just the tea and muesli."

"That harried but mysterious young man has it in for me," Mogey muttered, as the trolley stopped near the compartments at the far end of the train. He tore into his second of the sixteen muesli bars the pals had purchased.

"I think it was just a meager snack trolley," Smush crunched mueslily. "Not at all what we expected." 

But Mogey wasn't listening. He stood from his seat and crept toward the compartments.

"Don't do it, Mogey," Smush called after him, "you'll ruin our vacation. There's just no way to fry hamburgers on a trolley that small."

"Ah ha!" Mogey shouted as he burst through the door of the compartment the trolley stood next to. The sight that met his eyes was the kind of betrayal only experienced by spiders and Chutes and Ladders players. The harried but mysterious young man held forth a silver platter loaded with western bacon double cheeseburgers, and the centerpiece? The coup de grace? A western bacon triple cheeseburger.

Mogey was about to lunge for the trolley attendant when Smush caught him from behind. 

"No, Mogey," his pal intoned as he pulled a wad of cash and a cat o' nine tails from his back pocket. "You leave him to me."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 3

 When Mogey saw Smush enter the beef mincery for their semi-weekly procurement of hamburg, he noticed that his pal looked decidedly forlorn. Hangdog, if you will. Unquestionably down in the mouth. 

"Why the long face?" Mogey asked.

"I was mugged," Smush replied, sadly pulling his lower lip up off the mincery floor and tucking it under his front teeth for safekeeping. 

"Mugged? Shall I call the constable?" Mogey beckoned Heavenly Kevinly Bunk, heir apparent to the Bunk Minced Beef empire. "Say, Heav Kev: lend me your phone, won't you?"

"What for?" Smush asked.

"Why, to apprehend the villain, of course! We've got to report him to the police."

"I don't understand... what villain?"

"The mugger!" Mogey exclaimed.

"Ah," said Smush hesitantly. "Um... when I say 'mugged...'"

Mogey stared at his pal for a full three minutes before responding. "Please tell me this doesn't have something to do with root beer."

"You weren't there!" Smush declared. "It was the frostiest, foamiest mug of sarsaparilla you've ever seen, and then before I knew it - it was just gone."

"Your telephone, Heav Kev, and my apologies," Mogey intoned as he returned the minced beef proprietor's receiver. "But while I've got you, how about a pound and a half of 80/20?"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 2

 Staff Sergeant Mutton McMutton was just about the most feared individual in the entire battalion. The list of soldiers he'd sent crying to their mamas was almost as long as his jowls, and rumor had it that he'd once hollered so loudly at a ghost haunting his attic that the spirit developed a case of eternal hiccups.

And at this moment, the brim of Staff Sergeant McMutton's cap was mere millimeters from Mogey's forehead.

"ARE YOU LAUGHING, PRIVATE?" McMutton exclaimed.

Here Mogey was faced with a dilemma. On the one hand, the penalty for laughing was 11,000 Bulgarian split squats. On the other, the penalty for lying was to excavate the latrine pit. And he had just thought about the way his guinea pig, Bartholomew of Burne, had taken down an entire package of Bold Party Blend Chex Mix the week prior, a truly hilarious scenario.

"Could you be more specific, sir?" Mogey ventured.

"SPECIFIC? I'LL BE SPECIFIC, ALL RIGHT!" shouted McMutton (he spoke only in capital letters). "YOU ARE THE WORST SOLDIER IN THIS ENTIRE REGIMENT, EXCEPT FOR MAYBE YOUR PAL SMASH OVER THERE!"

"Ah, it's Smush, sir," Smush corrected.

"MY POINT EXACTLY!" McMutton howled, turning his attention to Smush. "PRECISELY! EXPRESSLY! IF I WANT TO CALL YOU 'SMASH,' THAT'S DARN SURE WHAT I WILL CALL YOU. IF I WANT TO CALL YOU 'SMASH,' YOU'LL REPORT TO THE PROBATE AND FAMILY COURT, FILL OUT FORM M-254, AND LEGALLY CHANGE YOUR NAME TO 'SMASH!' WHAT IS THAT FACE YOU'RE MAKING, SON?"

"Sir?" Smush replied. Staff Sergeant McMutton's longest eyebrow hairs were now tickling Smush's nose.

"IT'S SOME EXPRESSION! QUITE THE ASPECT! COULD IT BE THAT YOU DON'T LIKE WHAT I'M SAYING? OR HAVE I GOT BAD BREATH?"

Now it was Smush's turn to experience a dilemma. He knew the penalty for lying as well as Mogey, but Staff Sergeant McMutton's breath was simply marvelous. It smelt of peppermint tea on a dewy morning. And Smush knew that if he complimented the Staff Sergeant, Mogey would never forgive him.

"WELL, PRIVATE SMASH? KEEP ME WAITING A MOMENT LONGER AND YOU'LL REPLACE PRIVATE MONKEY AS WORST SOLDIER IN THE REGIMENT!"

"Ah, actually it's--" Mogey began, but he was interrupted by a glowing, pearly figure who floated by, eying McMutton as a timid substitute teacher might eye Brent Bully, moustachioed 15-year-old.  

"Just... hic... excavate the latrine pit... hic..." the ghoul advised. "Trust me... hic, hic.... it's better than the alternative."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: 2023 Edition - Episode 1

 Mogey slammed the door and threw his back against it, screwing his eyes shut tight as he panted wildly.

"Neighborhood boys still coming after you with their nerf blasters?" Smush asked, scarcely looking up from his heavily annotated copy of Superfudge.

"They're away at dermatology camp," said Mogey. "Thank the lord. No, this time it's devil dogs."

"Devil dogs?"

"You heard me, capitaine. They're an unstoppable force. I can only hope they haven't followed me here."

At that very moment, the doorbell rang. Though their bell was an ominous old thing, Smush rolled his eyes, rolled out of his beanbag chair, and rolled himself over to the window. There, he twitched the curtain aside and peeked onto the landing. 

What he saw chilled Smush to the core for only the second time in his life (the first being his record-setting performance at the Saskatchewan ColdBelly Challenge Creamsicle Consumption Competition, brought to you by Jumble-Ice brand Freeze Pops - he retired a champion). 

"Gadzooks, Mogey!" Smush exclaimed. "I thought you were talking about snack cakes!" 

Much to Smush's dismay, a ghastly creature stood upon the pals' front porch. Its canine face contorted into a sneering growl and its red eyes glowed with the evil of a hundred dictators. A nefariously bulky bag of black leather was thrown over one of its shoulders.

"I was," Mogey replied. "That's Wolfman Billingsly, the door-to-door snack cake salesman. He knows full well that I gravitate to devil dogs the way Hawaiian Punch gravitates to a new pair of white jeans, and I regret to say that he's come to score his biggest sale of the year!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 38

 When Smush emerged from the barn, he held the ball aloft like a sapphire prized from the crown of an empress who owned several Mazda dealerships.

"Is that--?" Mogey exclaimed.

"I'll stop you right there, Moge-man," Smush interrupted. "I know this looks like it was stolen from the display case at Empress-Mazda-of-Porkborough, but I assure you it's home-grown."

"You mean... your formula?"

"Has finally been perfected," Smush nodded. "Come, let us try it out on the badminton court." 

For some reason lost to the annals of history, Mogey and Smush preferred to play badminton on a court made of reinforced concrete. Because of this, the skin of their knees had also been lost to the annals of history, but they also possessed the perfect place to test the world's bounciest ball.

When they reached the court, Smush took one more look at his creation, wound up, and let her rip.

"It's beautiful," Mogey murmured tearfully as the ball sailed upward, becoming a miniscule purple dot against the white of the clouds.

Unfortunately, Smush had neglected to test the ball's ability to withstand a second bounce. In what became known, among local squirrels, as The Day of the Ball, Smush's invention exploded into literally 10,000 pieces on impact, pelting the surrounding fields and trees. The final damage: 956 cracked acorns, 44 bruised tails, 11 sore mouths from accidentally stuffing bouncy ball pieces into cheeks.

"Back to the drawing board," Smush muttered.

"Thank goodness this reinforced concrete was here to break our fall," Mogey added. "Uh oh, Smush, we better skedaddle."

He pointed to the driveway, where a caravan of Mazdas with shattered headlights were pulling in, furiously windshield-wipering bits of bouncy ball. And in the lead? The Empress herself, holding a poison-tipped spear in one hand and a highly-trained skunk in the other.