Dan Lukiv

Morly Mooch and the Hosshoppers, a story for kids Dan Lukiv

An excerpt // Morly Mooch lived in an oil tank. For windows, he'd hack-sawed holes in the steel, and the edges were as jagged as Rocky Mountain-peaks. One day, he sat on his rickety porch, sipping fish tea, while his fishing line wavered in Mooch River. // He burped. He'd eaten a fish omelet, fish biscuits, fish pancakes, and strawberry shortcake. He burped again. He thought about brewing up a pot of fish soup for supper. Then he frowned: The people of Beaver Valley called him The Moacher of Mooch River and Mustard Breath. // "Mustard Breath, my petunias!" he said, scowling until his jowls ached. // Then his ears pricked up, like cat-ears, as he heard stifled giggles. He glanced beneath bushy eyebrows and spotted a boy and girl hiding amongst his strawberry plants. // "Hey, Mustard Breath," the boy said. "Bet you can't catch us!"