Ahem…
Squeak, squeak.
Mom, can I get out of this ridiculous outfit now?
Jeez, the things she makes me do.
Next she’ll have me dressing up as a rhinoceros, or a pygmy malamute or something.
Gawd… a mouse suit.
I’m hiding under the bed for a week. Just slip me my fuzzy wooby and a box of Cheerios and let me just work out my psychological trauma on my own.
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