Madison and Mousey

By Rachel Alcazar, age 9
Madison and Mousey The author’s name is Rachel Alcazar and she is 9 years old and lives in Potomac, MD. She lives with her mom, dad, and sister. This is Rachel’s first published story. Other than writing, her mom is busy buying her some cheese.

“Madison was a great hero. She saved me. Okay, please, if you wait a second, I will tell you the story.”

Madison and Mousey

By: Mousey O. Cheddar

…by the hand of Rachel Alcazar…

 

Madison was a great hero. She saved me. Okay, please, if you wait a second, I will tell you the story.

My name is Mousey O. Cheddar. I call a big glass box my home. Well, it’s a bunch of boxes connected with tubes. It includes a school and a house for me, and my friends Brie Brie Stilton, Audrey Stilton, and Shawn Gouda. It also provides a house for my teacher, Ms. Alison Parmesan. The roof is a latex folder with two flaps. My awesome owner is Madison Crystal Sullivan. She is nine years old.

First of all, I had just gotten home from De Afficial Scool Fr Mousys and I rummaged through my backpack to look for my homework, when I realized I had lost it!   

So, I looked and looked and looked and still didn’t find it. I looked in Chef Garbanzo B. Bean’s stinky yet good trash soup. Nothing. Behind the TV? Nothing. In the underwear drawer? STILL nothing. Cereal box? NOTHING!!! Oh no!

Losing one’s homework has a horrible consequence, because if mouseys don’t have their assignment, they would get my teacher Ms. Alison’s (A.K.A. Ms. Grouchypants) detention. That’s when she takes away snack. We always have yummy creamy brie on crackers. But for detention she makes us stand in her closet upside down while eating broccoli! YUCK, I hate that leafy, greeny, gross stuff!

The next morning, I went to school. Before I left I tried to tell Madison, “Please get my homework.” But it sounded more like squeaks because humans do not understand mice, but mice can understand humans.

The school looks like a room with a clock, whiteboard, and some desks. I was getting worried. Ms. Grouchypants was walking toward me with broccoli in her hands. Thump. Thump. Thump. My heart raced like it was running a marathon. Just then, Madison lifted up the roof and she looked surprised that I was chewing on a big fat piece of broccoli. She screamed, “You are allergic to broccoli!”

When she spotted my homework sticking out of the pocket of the roof folder, she screamed again! She got it out and gave it to me. I sighed a sigh of relief and threw up that leafy, greeny, gross stuff!

That is how Madison saved me.

 

THE END

1 Comment

  • Cassie Kulish says:

    Rachel,

    I really loved your story about Mousey! I liked it so much, I read it to a bunch of my friends and co-workers, and they all thought it was great! You are very talented. Keep writing!!

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