Martin Mouse was sleeping in his little mouse bed in his little mouse hole in a little red house on top of a hill. It was 6:00 a.m. The sun was rising up over the horizon, getting ready to warm up the whole entire world.
Suddenly, Martin Mouse’s alarm went off. He shot up in bed.
“I DON’T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL TODAY!” yelled Martin Mouse. “I DON’T, I DON’T, I DON’T!”
That’s when a big, human mouth appeared in the mouse hole that was the doorway to Martin Mouse’s little home. It was Mr. Lotion, the man who owned the little red house where Martin Mouse lived in the walls!
“Quit fussing, Martin Mouse!” yelled Mr. Lotion. “You don’t have to go to school today—you are a mouse! There is no school for you to go to. Schools are for human children!”
Martin Mouse smiled. He loved Mr. Lotion!
“But I DON’T want to pack my backpack, and I DON’T want to bring it to school!” he whined.
“That’s great, Martin Mouse,” said Mr. Lotion. “Because your backpack is just a coin purse you stole from my wife, and she needs it to store her coins in when she goes to the DMV today to retake her driver’s test! Why don’t you spend today looking for cheese, instead of worrying about going to school?”
“SCHOOL?” Martin Mouse replied. “I HATE school! School is terrible and full of HOMEWORK! Today I have to do MATH!”
Mr. Lotion sighed. He took a sip of coffee from his big, human coffee mug.
“Martin Mouse,” Mr. Lotion said, “do you really know what math is?”
Martin Mouse thought for a moment.
“Yes…” he said. “Math is…part of…a…library.”
“Oh, Martin Mouse,” laughed Mr. Lotion. “That’s not quite right, but no worries, because mice don’t need to concern themselves with math. Do you know what you should be doing all day? Running away from cats and making a nice soft bed for yourself in your little mouse home. Now, I have to go to work. Do you know what I do for work, Mr. Mouse?”
“You are a…television?” replied Martin Mouse tentatively.
“No, Martin Mouse,” said Mr. Lotion. “See, that’s why you don’t go to school: because you don’t know anything, because you are an animal. No, my job is delivering the mail to people’s houses. I am a mailman with 15 years experience.”
“Wow, that’s amazing!” said Martin Mouse. “I’d love to have a job like that one day, but I DON’T want to study for it! No way!”
Mr. Lotion chuckled. “Well, I don’t think that’s anything you need to worry about. Your only job is being a mouse. Say, do you even know what studying means, Martin?”
Martin Mouse’s face became very serious. “Oh, studying is AWFUL, Mr. Lotion!” Martin said. “Studying is when you sit all by yourself in a freezing cold cave by the ocean, and an old fisherman comes and bops you on the head with his fishing stick, and yells “LEARN, LEARN, LEARN,” until you can tell him how old he is, down to the day! No one likes it, not one bit—especially me!”
Mr. Lotion smiled. “Well, that does sound terrible,” he said. “I’ve got to go, but I hope you don’t have to do any of that awful studying at school today!” He winked as he took another sip of coffee and turned to get ready for his commute.
“SCHOOL???” cried Martin Mouse, his face scrunched up in horror. “Not school!! I WON’T go to school! I WON’T I WON’T I WON’T!”
