The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 20

 As Mogey and Smush crested the snowy summit, their legs shaking, their breath billowing, their pockets crinkling with caramel cream wrappers, they came upon a crevasse that could not have been more perfect for producing an echo.

"Hello!" Mogey shouted.

"Hello!" his echo replied.

"Wow!" said Mogey. 

"Wow!"

"Black bean burger!"

"Black bean burger!"

This went on for at least twenty minutes by Smush's reckoning. He reckoned in Fruit-By-The-Foot, so seven feet of fruit had been consumed. Finally, after Mogey yelled "black bean burger" for the third time, the echo simply quit.

"Will you cut it out already and let me get some sleep?" the echo cried, in perfect imitation of Mogey, though Mogey had said nothing of the sort. "For by the epaulets on Cap'n Crunch's blue coat, I swear I will grind this mountain into dust before I say 'black bean burger' again!"

Legends say that the witch who had doomed Fernando the echo ghost to a millennium of repeating hikers' yells added a hundred years to his punishment for each word he improperly echoed, so this outburst cost him dearly indeed. But legends also say that on that night, Fernando the echo ghost went to bed with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, for he had proven that no man could make him say 'black bean burger' thrice, no matter how many caramel creams he'd consumed.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 19

The Yuletide season was one of Mogey and Smush’s favorite times of year. This was mostly because every occasion to make merry seemed to revolve around food. When it wasn’t Beef Wellington it was fire-roasted chestnuts. When it wasn’t sugar plums it was nog of egg. And when it wasn’t pumpkin pie… well, it was always pumpkin pie with Mogey and Smush around.

Gift giving, on the other hand, was not typically Mogey’s or Smush’s forte. The pals were too focused on delicious victuals, and frankly, too rotund, during the festive season to think of much else. 

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, is it, that figgy pudding?” said Mogey from the sofa. He’d already unbuckled his belt and leaned back in his chair. Now he had no choice but to shift to a full recline.

“Quite the statement from a gentleman who just put away three helpings of it,” Smush replied from the chaise lounge-style patio chair he’d dragged in from the deck. “You thought it would be chocolate pudding with figs in it, didn’t you?”

“Butterscotch pudding, actually,” Mogey said. “And Fig Newtons, not simple figs. Fruit on Christmas? Ick! But doesn’t that sound better?”

“As a matter of fact it does,” Smush answered. “So here’s your present!”

He sounded an air horn, and in hopped Miss Elle Toad, the wassailing frog of Bon Bon Pond. In her warty arms she held a mighty glass bowl, filled to the brim with butterscotch pudding. Atop the pudding stood a perfect reconstruction of the famous battle between Snow Miser and Heat Miser, made entirely from Fig Newtons.

Mogey was still too full to sit up, but a single tear rolled down his cheek as he brandished his spoon once more.

“Merry Christmas, Smush. It’s perfect.”

“Merry Christmas, Mogey,” his pal replied.

 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 18

 It was customary, in those days, to let out a hearty belch after a good meal. Many hosts would've been wholly offended by a burp-less guest, and Mogey and Smush made great efforts not to give offense. Even when it was only the two of them, they made sure to let a few tonsil-ripplers go during the dessert course.

"Hold on a moment, Smush," Mogey said one evening as his pal rose for a fifth pudding pop, "I'm about to be so darn polite that it's going to blow your mind."

Smush sat, and Mogey opened his mouth wider than an opera singer receiving a monkey bite from a bully he thought was his best friend. Instead of a mere belch, however, an enormous bubble began to emerge from Mogey's mouth. Larger and larger it grew - much to Mogey's consternation - until it was bigger around than Smush's belly, or an "el grande" size beach ball. 

"I keep telling you, Mogey," said Smush, "you've got to spit out your Juicy Fruit after you chew it, not swallow the stuff."

"Chew it?" Mogey exclaimed as the bubble finally broke off and drifted toward the ceiling. "I've just been swallowing the sticks whole. You get the same great taste, but it's far less filling that way."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 17

 "You know what this party needs?" Mogey asked as their guests yawned through the fourth playing of The Monster Mash that hour. Their Master of Ceremonies, a serpent and Harry Potter-tribute DJ named Sal "The Czar" Slitherin', continued to spin the ones and twos, oblivious to the boredom of the crowd as his tail swayed in time to the beat.

"Oh please no," Smush replied, pinching the top of his nose. "Not the Under--"

"The UnderWOO!" Mogey exclaimed. With a small squeal of delight, he unveiled his prized antique typewriter.

"I keep telling you, Mogey, it's an Underwood, the d just wore off."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Smush! Only an UnderWOO could set the party off like this!"

With that, Mogey began to mash at the keys, making the typewriter into a percussion instrument as loud as it was disorderly.

"For pete's sakes, Mogey," Smush said. "At least find out what you're typing!" Smush slid a page into the typewriter mid-song, and as Mogey continued to punch the keys, letters began to blossom across the paper. 

Mogey finally realized what was happening and yanked the page free of the carriage. For a moment he was silent as he surveyed the paper covered in letters. 

"This is cursed magic indeed!" Mogey shouted.

"But Mogey, I just--"

"Begone, you! Keep your dastardly witchcraft away. This is no house of devilry!" said Mogey as he backed away slowly, crossing his forefingers in an X in front of his face. 

Across the room, "I was working in the lab late one night..." echoed ominously from the speakers for the fifth time as Sal "The Czar" Slitherin' hissed with delight.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 16

Hand over hand, foot over foot, Mogey and Smush made their way slowly up the village church's steeple. Twice, loose shingles threatened to send them plummeting to their doom. Another time, Smush's hand accidentally got caught in Mogey's back fat, and it took half an hour and a goodly portion of Smush's emergency stick of butter to remove it.

"Don't worry, Smush," said Mogey as his pal's hand came free with an enormous SBLOOP! "It'll all be worth it in the end."

At last they made it into the bell tower. Before them hung the ancient bronze bell cast by Emmit Village, the founder and namesake of their little hamlet. The great instrument filled the pals with pride and a hunger for beefy seven-layer burritos. Smush glanced at the sun and held Mogey back with an arm.

"Wait a moment," Smush said. "It's too risky."

"I don't care!" Mogey exclaimed, pushing past Smush's arm as though it was the turnstile at the final concert of rap rock legends Mild Fever. "I've had enough of those mosquitos, I tell you. I must have bat allies and I must have them now!"

Mogey crouched beneath the massive bell and looked up, just as the clock struck noon. Twelve epic peals rang out. Unable to escape, Mogey received the full blast of each knell from inside the bronze dome. 

When at last the twelfth note had been struck, Mogey stumbled out, his head still vibrating noticeably.

"Well?" asked Smush.

"There were no bats," Mogey replied. "But by golly what a ride! Only 59 minutes until it comes round again!" 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 15

 "Rain again," groaned Smush, turning away from the window.

"Oh?" said Mogey, sounding like the heir to a toilet paper fortune who has just fallen madly in love with the general manager of an upstart bidet manufacturer. He adored rainy weather, but he also knew his best pal despised it.

"Guess we should dig out the boots," Smush went on.

"Galoshes?" Mogey asked.

"Um, you mean steaming hot rain catchers? No, thank you."

"Work boots?"

"Too stiff."

"Wellies?"

"Aren't those the same thing as galoshes?" 

"Then what kind of boots do you want?" Mogey demanded.

"You know those boots that are actually pants?" Smush inquired.

"Hip waders?"

"I personally think they're the height of dorkdom," Smush replied, "but if you believe they're hip, more power to you. The question is: Have we got any?" 

"Oh, we've got some alright," Mogey said. "I believe they're still standing in the kitchen, half full of buffalo chicken dip from that party last Wednesday."

"Ah yes, they did make a most excellent dip bowl. Well, grab a new bag of Hint-o'-Limes and meet me in the kitchen, Mogey. You know what we have to do."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 14

 In all the land, the most famed gymnast, and thus the most famed person, was a surprisingly stout young man by the name of Pom L. Hoarse. He was every child's hero, beloved by all, and affectionately known by his iconic nickname, Signore Stretch.

But Signore Stretch had a dark secret, one he kept even from his closest friend: "Pom L. Hoarse" was actually an extremely inconspicuous alias. 

"Where are you off to so early?" Mogey asked Smush as his pal headed for the door. "And is that a leotard under your arm?"

"Err, no," Smush replied. "It's a long-sleeved bathing costume. I'm going scuba diving in Ram Banana's new deepwater pool."

"'k," said Mogey skeptically. "Say, any idea why there's chalk all over the peanut butter jar?"

"Have you noticed how difficult it is to get the lid off lately? Chalk is miraculous for getting a better grip!"

"Right, right, of course. What are you up to tonight? Care to join me for the big gymnastics show down at the Civic Center?"

"Oh, no thank you," Smush answered. "I'm liable to be all tuckered out. You know how exhausting it is to spend a morning with Ram Banana." 

But on the inside Smush thought to himself Drat! He'd have to change his alias again, and perhaps even go back to wearing a mask. But what did that matter? Signore Stretch would die a legend, and for Smush, the thrill was in feeling the wind ripple his chins as he flew through the air, wild and free. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 13

 Ever the crafty consumers, Mogey and Smush made sure to haggle about any sales transaction for at least one change of the tides. On the particular day in which we encounter our pals, Smush found himself in need of a new toothbrush.

"And you say this model features sleek handling and an ergonomic design?" Smush asked.

"Yes," replied the distracted pharmacist, "but I've really got to go help some other customers."

"I like that it's got authentic hog's neck bristles," said Smush, ignoring him, "but I'm just not sure about the price."

"Ask about the limited warranty," Mogey urged.

"What if I include a free bag of taffy?" the desperate pharmacist offered.

"Taffy?" Smush asked, suddenly far more interested.

"Taffy?" Mogey interjected. "Smush, don't you see? He's selling you the disease and the cure all at once! What's next, sir? A free jar of blackberry seeds? Some complimentary popcorn kernels?"

"Ahhhh," said Smush, giving the pharmacist the appraising look of a frog warrior eyeing a new claimant to the lilypad throne, "I see your game, pharmacist, and I must say I respect it. Tell you what: you throw in one of those caramel apples and a king-size box of Steak-umms and you've got yourself a deal." 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 12

 "Hnnnnghhh!" Mogey gasped, sprinting through the front door like a taxidermist who just saw his stuffed porcupine's toe wiggle, "Smush... hnnnghhh... take... arghhhh... cover!"

"What is it, Mogey?" Smush cried, rushing to his pal's side. "Don't tell me you stole Big Mo Tercicle's last strawberry frosted doughnut again?"

"No! Well--yes, of course I did, but no that's not the most pressing issue at the moment. We've got vampires!"

"Vampires?"

"Vampires," Mogey confirmed. "They're everywhere: Acting spooky, looking pale, eating worms, clucking ominously."

"I believe you're thinking of chickens," Smush said.

"Ah, yes," Mogey replied, catching his breath at last. "Chickens is the word I was searching for."

"My God," said Smush. "It's worse than I thought! You bar the door and I'll grab the 12-gauge. They're after our lifetime supply of liquorice whips!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 11

 WELCOME TO "HOME PLATING WITH MOGEY AND SMUSH," THE SHOW ABOUT BASEBALL SNACKS AND BASEBALL ENTREES. AND NOW, YOUR HOSTS WITH THE MOST [RUMBLY TUMBLIES]: MOGEY AND SMUSH!

Smush: Thank you for joining us. Today we'll be talking all things frankfurter: We've got dogs, we've got buns, we've got a vast array of mustards, we've got so many relishes that the chutney police are hot on our tails--

Mogey: Why was he yelling?

Smush: What?

Mogey: The announcer guy. Does he really need to shout like that?

Smush: I'm not--

Mogey: And what's up with the crack about our tumblies? He wasn't supposed to read that part out loud.

Smush: Can we just get back to frankfurters, please? 

Mogey: Fine.

Smush: Now, onto krauts, cheeses, and cheese-adjacent products--

Mogey: It's just... I know my tumbly is rumbly. I don't need anyone shouting about my rumbly tumbly. I can feel it rumbling beneath this admittedly echoey t-shirt.

Smush: You know something, Mogey?

Mogey: Yes?

Smush: You are absolutely right. You hear that, announcer man? Prepare to feel our combined wrath - and the wrath of the chutney police, for that matter - if you utter one more word about our tumblies, rumbly though they may be! I say beware, Mr. Announcer, for the vengeance of a hungry Mogey and Smush is both swift and terrible, and we haven't eaten in at least thirty-five minutes.

THANK YOU FOR JOINING US FOR ANOTHER EPISODE OF "HOME PLATING WITH MOGEY AND SMUSH." WE'LL SEE YOU AGAIN NEXT WEEK FOR MORE HIGHLY-FOCUSED BASEBALL FOOD TALK.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 10

 At the Stoatburgh Stoat Festival, the premier event was of course the stoat-judging competition. Among other privileges, the year's Top Stoat was allowed, by law, to run amok in every henhouse in the district. 

The second-most important event, however, was the annual Juggle Off. And since they lacked the level of stoatiness required for the stoat-judging contest, it was the Juggle Off that Mogey and Smush entered.

"What's your strategy this year, Moge-ster?" Smush inquired.

"Two words," said Mogey. "Bowling balls."

"That's your strategy every year! And every year you forget until too late that bowling balls are too heavy to juggle."

"Ah, but that's where this year will be different. I've tried using eight-pound balls in the past; this year it'll be 12-pounders only. What's your strategy, anyhow?"

"Oh, I've got a little something up my sleeve." 

Later, as Mogey nursed a bowling ball-squashed foot, Smush's turn at the Juggle Off finally arrived. He mounted the stage, calmly produced a single hard-boiled egg, and tossed it from hand to hand several times before chucking it directly into the mouth of Lil Stoatie Bellingham, that year's Top Stoat and Juggle Off judge.

"The winner!" announced Lil Stoatie with an eggy hiss.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 9

 One bold and zesty afternoon, the pals strode through the village of Little Binky on their semi-annual expedition to procure toe-warmers, dog-wormers, and calf-firmers. As they passed Madame Bucheron's, Smush stopped short.

"Fancy a coffee?" he inquired.

"I don't drink coffee," Mogey replied, "and neither do you. Coffee ice cream? Yes. Coffee ice cream which has been sitting on the coffee table until it - like coffee - has become a beverage? Yes. But anything resembling actual hot bean water I promise you we will both detest."

"Now that's just not so," Smush insisted. He entered Madame Bucheron's, bold as you like, and approached the counter. "One medium Smush Special, please." 

"What's that?" asked the enflanneled axe-wielding barista. 

"A cup of heavy cream with three drops of your finest coffee," Smush announced.

He and Mogey played a spirited game of Guess Which Peanut until the brew was ready, at which point Smush took a proud sip... and promptly sprayed his entire mouthful across Madame Bucheron's window.

"There are at least five-to-six drops of coffee in here!" Smush spluttered. "I require immediate assistance to eliminate this wretched taste from my mouth! Quick, get me two more cups of cream and a cup of half-and-half. I am on a diet, after all."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 8

"Mogey?" Smush inquired after he'd seen his pal enter the kitchen, make a cup of sugar water, and exit for the third time in 15 minutes. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, ehm, nothing," Mogey replied, lying more obviously than a sarcastic genie whose master is leading a double life. "Just getting some refreshment."

"Alright, out with it: What sort of creature have you adopted this time?"

"I didn't adopt him!" Mogey insisted. "I'm just helping him recuperate. I think he might've crashed into one of our windows. I'm not sure what you call his species, but I named him Gnasher."

"Where is he now?" Smush asked.

"I made him a little nest out in the barn. Want to meet him?" 

Mogey led Smush out to the dairy'n'loungin' barn and hauled open the great oaken door. Smush gasped. Wriggling in the hay was a 15-foot tiger shark.

"He might've crashed into one of our windows???" Smush demanded. "We live 250 miles from the ocean!"

"Well you see, Smush," Mogey replied authoritatively, "at certain times of day, the reflection of the glass makes it look like there's a whole other world beyond the window. Poor little guys like this get confused." He gave Gnasher an affectionate scratch just behind his gills.

"Gnash," the shark added.

 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 7

"Ahoy, Boatswain Mogey!" Smush ahoyed, swinging the tiller slightly to starboard.

"Ahoy yourself, Third Mate Smush," Mogey said. "What news?"

"Scuttlebutt's been quiet," Smush replied.

"Do you mean scuttlebutt as in 'gossip,' or Scuttlebutte, the deckhand who is half crab-half aristocrat?"

"Actually I was referring to you, Boatswain. A few of the sailors have noticed that your rear end has gotten so large lately that you enter the galley sideways."

"Excuse m--" Mogey began, but Smush interrupted him by tacking the Lady McRib violently to port.

"Avast!" Third Mate Smush exclaimed, "there be the waterspout we've been looking for! It carries the distinct fragrance of purple gatorade, which can mean only one thing: It be Dale Lasertag, the extreme athlete humpback! He won't escape me this time, skateboard or no skateboard."

 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 6

"If you could climb like any creature," said Smush as he reached for the next branch, "what would it be?" 

Mogey tapped his chin thoughtfully, leaving behind an impressive lump of pine sap. It was unusual, these days, for the pals to be climbing The Needly Sheriff, the oldest spruce on the eastern seaboard. But in the month of May, spruce nuggets were in bloom. 

"I believe that's a trick question," Mogey replied.

"How could that be a trick question?" 

"Look at it this way: If I say 'a monkey,' I'm a banana-gobbling buffoon; if I say 'a goat,' I'm a baaing hoof tapper; and if I say what is clearly the correct answer, I'll be accused of overthinking it." 

"Notwithstanding the fact that all three of those things are already true, what is so clearly the correct answer?" Smush inquired.

Mogey heaved a massive, sprucy breath and was about to reply, when the long-suffering limb upon which he stood gave way. Mogey plummeted to the ground, hitting zero branches on the way down. He'd only been climbing for an hour, after all, and thus hadn't made it past the first limb. He landed flat on his back, which was good: Mogey's back was in a five-way tie for his fleshiest body part. 

"If you could climb like any creature," the mostly-inert Mogey called without opening his eyes, "you should climb like a sloth: Brandishing a big set of claws and stopping often for naps. I know it, you know it, and the sloths know it too."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 5

"Smush...?" said Mogey, disconcertedly, "what is the spatula doing in the flyswatter drawer?"

"I've been looking for that everywhere!" Smush exclaimed while he stylishly flipped a nanner'n'nutter butter flapjack. "But I found a solution."

"What is that in your hand?" Mogey asked.

"I'll tell you what it's not," Smush replied, brandishing a batter-flecked flyswatter, "it's not a device as limited as that old spatula. With this, I can flip and swat at the same time, almost like I'm some sort of..."

"I swear," said Mogey, "if you say 'elite multitasker' in that evil robot voice I'm going to switch your body butter and your regular butter again."

"ELITE MULTITASKER!" Smush interrupted as he flipped another flapjack and then swatted Horatio MacPamplemousse, Mosquito Burglar, in one fluid motion. 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 4

"I've got some bad news," Mogey said sorrowfully as returned from his biannual visit to Doc Bulbous, Hobbit Physician. 

"Crouton stuck in a major artery?" Smush guessed.

"Not this time. It turns out I'm legally blind when my eyes are closed." 

"Oh Mogey, I'm so sorry," Smush consoled. "I wonder... does this mean you're eligible for a service animal?"

"You mean like a seeing eye dog?"

"Sort of. I've heard it doesn't have to be a dog though. It could be all manner of creatures. A pig, for instance."

"Why in the world would I want a pig when I could get a--hnnnghhh!" Mogey gasped, clapping a hand to his mouth in horror. "You mean to eat my seeing eye pig, don't you?" 

"Don't be absurd," said Smush, but his words were belied by the drool in the corner of his mouth and the bib around his neck that read You Are What You Eat, and I Eat Ham Hocks.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 3

The fragrance of raspberry turnovers with just a hint of danger wafted through the air one cloudy afternoon when Mogey and Smush decided it was time, at long last, to select their DJ names.

"I've got my name narrowed down to two finalists," Smush said. "I'm between MC Toblerone and Doctor Dentist. How about you?"

"DJ Dragonfly," Mogey replied.

"Of course! Because dragonflies are the apex predators of the insect world and your favorite music genres are spleenpunch and murderbeats?"

"Close," said Mogey, "but it's actually because my legs are very short relative to the rest of my body and I have way more teeth than most people think." 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 2

It was rare, but not unheard-of, for Mogey and Smush to spend a night in the hoosegow. The big house. Lock-up. In short, jail.

Almost every one of these stints began with petty theft of cheese or cheese products. The problem was this: However carefully our pals planned a dairy heist, they simply could not resist the sweet, sweet pull of sampling the goods. And for Mogey and Smush, sampling cheese inevitably became an hours-long affair, plenty of time for the local constable to catch them in the act.

Luckily, Officer Aufesore himself had quite the weakness for velveeta. Not that the man could be bribed - far from it - but he understood the mind of a dairy addict. While he would insist that Mogey and Smush spend a night in the pokey to "sleep off the curd," he always released them the following morning.

On the particular occasion in which we find our pals, however, Officer Aufesore was on vacation: a patrolmen's ice-sculpting retreat. The substitute jailor was a three-legged rhinoceros with a nasty case of lactose intolerance named Pierre Saint-Michel.  

"Same cell as usual, Aufesore-- who in heaven's name are you?" Smush exclaimed when Farmer Braithwaite hauled them in on a citizen's arrest.

"The name's Pierre Saint-Michel," said the rhino turnkey, "and you fellows are going away for a long time." 

"Oh, good," Mogey said, stifling a yawn. "Then will it be camembert for breakfast, or emmental?"

"You want... more cheese?" demanded Farmer Braithwaite, sounding as shocked as a fireman entering a pudding pop factory.

"Good point, Braithwaite," Smush replied, giving the farmer a hearty pat on the back. "Let's make it both, Pierre, and add a bit of stilton too, would you?" 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush: Quarantine Episode 1

In the summer of yore and yon, Mogey and Smush found themselves confined to their manor house, for a plague of Itchy Thumb ran rampant across the countryside.

"I've had it!" declared Mogey, after their eleventh day of isolation. 

"With what?" queried Smush most drolly.

"I'll tell you with what. I've had it with the whole darn thing! And most of all, I've had it with you, Smush!"

"Ah," Smush replied.

"Haven't you-- say, where are you going?" Mogey asked.

Smush paused, his hand hovering over the banister, which had been hand-carved from the trunk of Gnarled Frederick, the most conceited tree in Bean County.

"The way I see it, Mogey, we've got two options: Either I go defrost a couple of supremo p'zones, or we give Sheriff Troll J. McNutter a call. You'll want McNutter on hand, you see, because if you face me on the rasslin' mat - and surely that's where this discussion is headed if we don't get some p'zone in your belly - I cannot be stopped until I've administered at least seven reverse German suplexes or law enforcement intercedes. So: Which option do you choose?"

The sound of Mogey's tummy rumbling was the only answer Smush needed.

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 650

"What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?" Mogey asked casually. The pals were playing two-on-two Scrabble: Mogey and a golden retriever disc jockey known as ScuttleMutt versus Smush and a dragon boxing champion called Teence Lancelittle.

"You know very well that my favorite letter is 'Q,'" Smush replied. "It starts out so many of my favorite words: quack, quilt, quince, quality foodstuffs. Why do you ask?"

"Because," Mogey said, leaning forward intensely, "we're going to beat you with a word that has at least five Qs in it. ScuttleMutt! Get out that dictionary and find me the most Q-loaded word in there. And make it a triple word score!"

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 649

"Do you think we can go to the coal car now?" Mogey asked for maybe the fiftieth time.

Smush sighed and put down his copy of Beef and Other Meat Wellingtons Weekly. "I suppose so," he said, "but you're not going to like it. Where you got this idea that you want to ride in a coal car is beyond me. Are you sure you're not thinking of the caboose? Or better yet, the dining car?" 

"Yeah! "Yeah! Yeah!" Mogey exclaimed. "The coal car: Second from the front, full of coal, a pleasure to ride in for man or mole."

"You say that like it's a well known verse, but I'm proof positive you invented it yourself," muttered Smush as the two pals made their way through the Bennington & Northern train. After passing through half a dozen cars, they finally emerged into the open air. Before them was a filthy, unadorned box of a train car, loaded about halfway to the top with sooty coal. 

"See, Mogey," Smush said. "There's nothing glamorous abou-- Mogey?" Smush spun around in a panic, only to see that Mogey had already hopped across the gap and was burrowing into the coal in a way that could only be described as "snuggling."

"Coal car," Mogey sighed, yawning deeply. "Coal caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar." 

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 648

Perhaps it was a coincidence, but anytime Mogey and Smush ate barbecue ribs, the subject of mortality seemed to come up.

"So," Mogey said around a mouthful of sweet, sweet St. Louis style, "if it had to end, how would you want to go?"

Smush peered around the epic pile of bones in the center of the table that would later be used for a game known as "pork jenga."

"'Tis an unpleasant subject, but I've always thought 'Killed by a Crocodile' would read nicely on a tombstone," he replied. "That's why I challenge Hambone the Croc - a notoriously sore loser - to a weekly arm rasslin' match. When the day comes that I finally pin him, it will be time. And yourself?"

"There's only one way Mogey's shuffling off this earthly coil. A fair maiden is captured by a dastardly kidnapper and taken the the tippy top of the water tower in Cliffburgh--"

"That thing must be 500 feet high!" Smush exclaimed.

"You're darn right," Mogey said. "Anyhow, I pursue the kidnapper to the tippy top, where I become locked in combat with his dastardly self. Only, I realize that there's no way I can win - he's just too strong for me. After assuring that the fair maiden is safe, I manage to latch on to the dastardly villain and send both of us tumbling over the edge. Now what the kidnapper (dastardly though he is) doesn't know is that I'm wearing a parachute."

"Wait a second, I thought this was supposed to be the way it all ended."

"Let me finish! I pull the ripcord, but it malfunctions, you see. Turns out, instead of packing the parachute, I've filled the bag with two full racks of these fine St. Louis style ribs. I finish all of them before impact. The end."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 647

Of all the games at all the fairgrounds in Tungleton-on-Gunk, whack-a-mole was far and away our heroes' favorite.

In the first place, as is evident from the town in which they lived, Mogey and Smush loved hyphens. Few carnival games offered as many hyphens in their names as whack-a-mole. And when you threw in the fact that the principal tool of whack-a-mole is a whack-a-mole mole-whacker, the game couldn't be beat.

In the second place, Mogey and Smush hated moles. Their beloved childhood dog, Chunko, had been killed by moles long ago. Well, he was killed by moles in the sense that moles dug the tunnels in which Chunko (who was slender of brains but not of tummy) got both inextricably stuck and hopelessly lost. Mogey and Smush had despised moles ever since.

In the third place, Mogey and Smush found mole a l'orange to be the most delectable dish in Tungleton-on-Gunk, and possibly in all of existence.

But Mogey and Smush had never won a game of whack-a-mole. They'd come close one afternoon when a light rain slowed the moles' reaction time, but even then, they'd been foiled.

Today, however, they decided to win at all costs. They had devised a mole-whacker of such epic proportions that no mole could hope to escape un-l'oranged. But though their mole-whacker covered three-quarters of the whack-a-mole board, still moles continued to pop up, taunting the pals with their clever, delicious-looking faces.

Finally, in frustration, Mogey dropped the mole-whacker and leapt into one of the mole-holes, getting stuck partway through just like Chunko all those years ago.

"Hey!" Mogey shouted as Smush tried to pull him out by his ankles. "These moles are just plastic! They'd make a mediocre mole a l'orange at best."

The Abbreviated Adventures of Mogey & Smush Volume 646

One warm summer evening, as the fireflies floated aimlessly, the polecats sneaked furtively, and a lone, moony toad dreamed of winning the 100-Meter Hop, Mogey sat by the fire pit, toasting marshmallows. Being a connoisseur of fine cuisine, Mogey was far more concerned with the toppings he added to fully toasted marshmallows than he was with the mallows themselves. So though he had but a few meager sticks on the fire, the picnic table was spread with an incredible array of so-called toppings, from caramel sauce and hot fudge to crushed cheez-its and an entire Hawaiian pizza.

"Ah," said Smush, wandering over from the hammock he'd strung between two ancient statues of trousers. "I was wondering where my bucket of chicken wings ended up."

"The honey barbecue ones are particularly tasty on top of a fresh-toasted mallow," Mogey replied.

"True, but this fire is pitiful! You'll never cook your mallows through on that thing."

Mogey simply shrugged and swept his arm toward the smorgasbord atop the picnic table. Smush sighed a weary sigh and trudged in the direction of their homestead's armory. "You know, Mogey," he said, "Uncle Herman was wrong about herring-scented candles and he was definitely wrong about his ability to fight that ostrich warrior who came to town, but he was right about one thing: If something's worth doing, it's worth doing with a flamethrower."