05-MERRY CHRISTMAS, GERONIMO!

MERRY CHRISTMAS, GERONIMO! I turned my back on Thea and Trap. Go ahead, laugh all you want, I thought. At least my tail won't freeze off in the snow. Then I patted Benjamin's paw. "I just have to do a few things here," I told my nephew. "But later, we can PLAY and build ten snowmice, if you like." When they had left, I headed down the hall toward my office. I passed through the art department. TYLERAT TRUEMOUSE waved a paw at me. Tylerat is my senior designer. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Stilton!" he squeaked. Then he added with a chuckle, "Aren't you HOT?" I shook my head no and stumbled right

into Tylerat's assistant. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Stilton!" squeaked Meredguits Gidgermouse. I could tell she was trying not to laugh. "Aren't you HOT?" she finally managed to gasp. I shook my head no again. Then it was cheesita de la Pampa's turn. Cheesita has a head of dark shiny curls. She is usually a shy mouse, but not this morning. "Mr. Stilton, you must be sweating your fur off in that outfit!" she blurted out, "Aren't you HOT?" Then she covered her mouth. I could hear her giggling behind her paw. She raced off before I could answer. Just then, Sweetie Cheesetriangle came barreling up to me. Sweetie is my editor in chief. I guess you

could say Sweetie is the opposite of Cheesita. Sweetie loves to squeak her mind. "Geronimo! Why are you dressed like that?" she guffawed. "Aren't you HOT? At least unzip your parka!" By now, I was getting annoyed. Why couldn't everyone just mind their own business? "I'm fine! I'm ab-so-lute-ly, pos-i-tive-ly fine!" I shrieked, I whirled around and slammed right into RODNEY

RATFINKLE. Rodney works on our website. He gawked at me from behind his glasses. "Stilton, you must be HOTTER than a burrito at the Spicy Mouse Smoke House!" he screeched, laughing. He reached out to pat my parka. I shrugged him off. "I'm not hot!" I squeaked. I was fuming. What was with everyone today? So what if I had a few extra layers on. It was cold outside. I mean, OK,

maybe I'd overdone it with the furry sweaters. And the ski pants were a bit much. But it was my choice to wear them. I was still furious when I stumbled into a group of ILLUSTRATORS, Larry Keys, Blasco Tabasco, and Matt Wolf gave me the once-over. Here it comes, I grumbled to myself. "Hi, there, Geronimo!" they all squeaked in unison, Three pairs of eyes swept over me. They hooted with laughter. "Aren't you—?" "No!" I answered before they could finish. They looked shocked. But I didn't care. I'd had it. Why couldn't everyone just leave me alone?! So I had overdressed. So I looked like a giant puffy cheese ball. So what?! I stormed off.

"He needs a vacation," I heard someone whisper. "Looks like he's ready to snap!" said another. I marched through the press room. The press was churning out the latest copy of the newspaper. The noise was deafening. At least no one could tease me here, I thought. It was so noisy, I could hardly hear myself think, Two seconds later, Pinky Pick rushed up to me. Pinky is my assistant editor. There is only one word to describe Pinky. LOUD. Yes, Pinky is only a tiny mouse, but she is the loudest mouse I know. "Hi, Boss—" she called out. I cut her off before she could