“Bopper, you cannot provide a feast for all the Lane mice, it is not practical. You are one small mouse in this big lot. It is just not sensible to think about

doing it,” Emmy Lou mouse said as she finished sewing a patch on her mother’s winter robe.

“Emmy Lou mouse, for the past two Christmas’s I have done it and it was a great feeling to have all of the Lane mice together in harmony eating a feast,” Bopper said. He continued to fret and worry as he had no realistic ideas at all.

“Write Santa mouse,” Emmy Lou’s mom said. “Write him. I did once and that is how I got my sweet daughter.” Emma Lou's mom put on her newly patched winter robe and went into another room of the hole.

As soon as Emmy Lou’s mom had left the room, Bopper looked at the pleasant looking young female mouse. I do not believe in Santa Mouse, that is just a child’s dream. No such person exists.”

“But Bopper, we can go to Writer mouse and I will help you dictate the letter if you want me to. I do belive in Santa Mouse, Bopper, and what do you have to lose except some time and a small present for Writer Mouse?” Emmy Lou looked deep into Bopper’s eyes.

Bopper could see she was strong in her belief and he did not want to make her mad at him. But it was just silly thoughts, just silly ideas. Then he thought about his good buddy Fug, who believed in most everything childish. Fug was just a little child in a big mouse’s body.

Bopper thought a second longer, then looked at Emmy Lou. “Aw, Ok, but I don’t believe. It is worth a try though.”

Emmy Lou put away her sewing things and they went to the barn where Writer Mouse lived. He was just a small mouse, but he was a mouse with a pencil. There were little pieces of paper all around him.

“Hi, I am Bopper mouse. Emmy Lou mouse says you can help me,” Bopper said.

“Oh hi Emmy Lou. So this is Bopper.” Writer Mouse took off his thick spectacles.

“The infamous Bopper who has had all of the adventures and must have more lives than two or three cats?” The little mouse squeaked. “How may I help you Bopper?” he asked. Then he grinned. “Oh thank you for the big dinner we had on turkey day, I am still sluggish from eating so much,” he added.

“Bopper wants to feed all the mice on the lane a Christmas feast, but he has no idea and I told him to write to Santa Mouse and ask for his help,” Emmy Lou mouse stated.

“Well tell me Bopper, tell me what you have in mind and then I will write the letter. No charge since it is for the goodness of all Lane mice,” the small mouse said.

Bopper emptied his mouth of the two kernels of yellow corn he had brought to Writer Mouse as an inducement.

“Oh thank you, I love yellow corn,” Writer Mouse said.

Bopper explained how the other feasts had started with the oOrange that fell from the flying sleigh. He included the crashed truck and turkey dinner for Thanksgiving.

Writer Mouse listened, thinking, “This was not your direct doings, but happened by odd events and circumstance,” but he did not say it aloud. Writer mouse was in awe of this little bob-tailed mouse that had done so much, yet was just like the rest of the mice. Not big headed as one would have thought.

When Bopper was done, Writer Mouse said, “What I gather is all you want is for there to be food for a big feast so all the Lane mice can indulge. Correct?”

Bopper agreed.

Writer Mouse started to say more but decided to let the little bob-tailed one feel good about things that happened. “I will put it in the letter and make sure it goes to Santa Mouse,” he said.

“How do you send them, say like my letter to Santa Mouse, how do the little mice’s wish list get to him?” Bopper asked, still not believing.

Writer Mouse smiled at him, and in his low pleasant squeaky voice replied. “Believe me, Bopper, Santa Mouse gets them all, yes every one.”

As Emmy Lou mouse and Bopper were leaving, Emmy Lou said, “Don’t worry for now, Bopper. Santa Mouse will read your letter and everything will be fine. You just have to believe Bopper. You must just believe,” she said.

“Emmy Lou I do not believe in Santa Mouse or any other things like that. I do not believe in magic, although I have seen things I did not understand and never have. But I know there is an explanation,” he replied.

The discussion got a little heated and for the first time the two mice argued.

Suddenly Emmy said, “Oh Bopper, I have to go look in on Aunt Maggie mouse. She isn't feeling well and I know where there are some nice green dandelions leaves I can take her."

Emmy Lou smiled at Bopper then ran off back toward the other side of the shed. Her feelings were hurt and she did not want Bopper to see her shedding tiny mouse tears.

Bopper heard Fug, “Bop, oh bop baby. Come. Come on. Come, you have to try it, come on Bopper.” Fug yelled in a continuous stream of undecipherable words.

“What is it Fug old bud, what is it? Just slow down and tell me, OK?” Bopper stood waiting for Fug to catch his breath. “Easy, now, slow down,” Bopper added.

“The ice run, Bop Baby. The ice run. Come, it is so much fun,” Fug said as he pulled his buddy with him.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh boy, Wowie,” Bopper said as he followed Fug down the ice slide.

As soon as the two mice got to the bottom, they quickly scampered back up the long hill to slide on the ice slide again. There were lots of mice out sliding as Hawk eye hawk and his relatives were not anywhere to be seen on this cloudy and overcast day. The faucet up on the slight hill in the pasture either had been left on or it has frozen and burst for the water had run out onto the frozen ground and as it ran down the slight grade toward the house it had frozen until there was a continuous stream of frozen ice from the faucet to the courtyard fence. By the time the shadows grew long and darkness started to creep about Bopper and Fug were worn out from running up the hill and then sliding down on the smooth strip of ice.

Bopper had some supper and was soon asleep.

The 24th of December was a gray overcast day, no wind but everyone could feel snow in the air. Bopper and Fug were up early and spent the day looking for food for the feast. Old dog and the people had left the day before so there were no people in the house. Bopper and Fug did not find one crumb or one seed to eat in the house, “Fug old buddy, I am afraid that this year there will be no party, no feast,” Bopper said as he and Fug left the house and went to the front flower bed to see if they might find some flower or old weed seeds; alas to no avail.

“Let’s go to the dumpster bop baby,” Fug suggested. There was a water drain hole in the bottom of the dumpster so there was always an entrance and exit route, unless something was over the hole. Today there was nothing as the two mice scampered up into the large green iron box. “Nothing Fug, nothing, clean as can be,” Bopper said as they then went along the board fence. They did find some maple Acers and one or two bread crumbs, but nothing that would even fill their stomachs, much less all of the mice on the Lane. They scampered up along the fence then all at once bopper grabbed Fug and motioned for him to be quiet as two big old stray tom cats came walking along.

They were so engaged and busy telling Tom lies that they did not see nor did they even get the scent of Bopper and Fug, although they did spend a while trying to get inside the dumpster. Fug giggled, “Shucks Bop baby, I ain’t very smart and even I know how to get into a dumpster,” Fug put a paw over his mouth to keep from making any noise.

The two mice hunkered down and took a little nap as they waited for the two stray cats to continue with their stray and leave. Finally they did. “I am tired Fug, I

am going home to bed, no feast tonight nothing,” Bopper said as he thought of a nice warm bath in the brown cup mouse bath tub.

“Yeah I am tired too, gosh maybe we should have slid on the ice today instead of looking for a feast,” Fug said as with the darkness they could safely go straight across the lot to the shed. They were off, scampering here and there, checking out this and that, looking and still hoping.

As Bopper and Fug headed for the shed both were down and out, “Fug old buddy, I let everyone down, guess this will be a hungry holiday,” Bopper said as the two scampered across the open brown ground.

Fug stopped, sat up, “Look bop, look bop baby, snow, I just saw a great big pretty snow flake, reckon it is going to snow bop, huh, huh, reckon we will get snow,” Fug squeaked. Bopper, of course stopped when his friend stopped; he too looked up just as a super giant sized snow flake landed on the little mouse’s face. “Lookie, look, Bopper has a snow face,” Fug said.

Bopper canted his small head as he took his forepaws and wiped the thin melting snowflake from his face. “Shhh, Fug, shhhh, I hear something,” he whispered. Bopper’s first thoughts were the other year when he heard the same type music and the big orange thing rolled off the roof of the shed, giving them their Christmas feast of orange pieces.

Fug’s head was slowly turning, canting, trying to tune in the sound; he said nothing as he too heard it. Both mice stood there on their hind legs looking and listening as the quietness of the night made it so quiet one could if they had good ears might hear the sound of the big snowflakes wafting down. “Bells, bop, bells,” Fug said.

Bopper heard them too, as the sound grew a little louder and both mice turned their heads to see a little red light and something up there, something with this aura to it, something that dingled and donged like small bells. Bopper turned and ran toward the shed, “Over here, over here, oh please over here,” he squeaked as he jumped up and down in glee.

Of course Fug was right behind him yelling the same thing, all the while wondering what his buddy Bopper mean. “Over here, over here, yeah it is Bopper and Fug, over here.”

Then it became clearer as it neared them. It was, oh yes it was, it was Santa mouse in his sleigh. The small glob of light that enshrouded the small sleight and the mice pulling it dropped down, lower, lower and nearer to the ground, then something fell out of the sleigh. As it did the little sleigh rose straight up and over the shed and out of sight.

“Kerplop, splash,” the object landed there next to the crack in the shed door. Bopper turned and his face lit up, he began to jump up and down, “Oh thank you, thank you Santa mouse,” he squeaked, “I will not doubt you, no I will not ever doubt you,” he squeaked as he looked to his friend Fug. “Fug it worked, quick you go tell the other mice, tell them that there will be a feast, a big feast after all,” he squeaked as he turned and scampered to tell Emmy Lou mouse, to tell her she was right and he was wrong, oh so wrong. He wanted to thank her and make sure she got some of the goodies. What had fallen was a large clear plastic sack of mouse goodies, bits of chocolate, grain seeds, bread crumbs all the things mice really liked to eat.

Bopper quickly scampered to Emmy Lou Mouse’s hole, where sheepishly knocked and peeked in, “Emmy Lou mouse, Emmy it is Bopper.”

“Hi Bopper, what are you doing here,” Emmy Lou mouse asked. You could tell she had been napping.

“Come with me Emmy Lou mouse, come with me, Santa mouse answered my letter and there will be a feast, come Emmy Lou, come momma, poppa, come everyone,” Bopper squeaked. Emmy Lou sort of twisted her head a little, looked at Bopper who was so happy and full of joy. “What do you mean, huh, did I hear you correctly, Santa mouse came,” she asked in a very dry and droll manner.

Bopper just stood there, he stuttered and stammered and

then finally his words came out: “Emmy Lou mouse, you were right I was wrong, there is a Santa mouse and the letter you had Writer mouse write to him, worked, it did, for Fug and I were out in the lot when se heard the tinkling of little bells, then we saw a Red light,” he said as he was all smiles. “Then we saw it the tiny sleigh being pulled by mice, all lit up, lit up as if it was a sign board.” Emmy Lou

mouse was all smiles as Bopper continued, “He dipped low and threw out a big bag of goodies, mice goodies; he threw it so it landed just at the crack in the big garage door.”

Soon Bopper and Emmy Lou mouse joined all of the congregating mice from the barn, the shed, the house and the fence rows. Each mouse would run out to the big bag of goodies, get a mouthful, take it inside and put it in the pile, then get another one, each mouse getting five mouthfuls of goodies. There were baby mice just pulled from

their cribs, long skinny mice, short fat mice, all sorts of mice there enjoying the feast. Sparks mouse with the help of Acro mice, turned on the big radio on the wall; it was playing pretty music as the mice of McAllister Lane had a feast and wished each and every one a Merry Christmas.


© By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)




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