03-THREE, I SAID THREEEEE!

THREE, I SAID THREEEEE! "HOW DO YOU THINK?" roared Grandfather William. "I'M BUSY! VERY BUSY, THAT'S HOW I AM!" I gulped. Can you believe I am afraid of my own grandfather? But I don't let it get to me. You see, everyone is afraid of Grandfather William. He is one tough, no-nonsense mouse. Once he made a ten-pound rat cry just by glaring at him. Now he was SCREAMING into my phone. I felt sorry for the poor mouse on the other end. "Yes, three!" he shrieked. "I need 3 million guidebooks to Ratzikistan on the double! I said, Three! Three! Threeee!

T as in Try harder! H as in Hop to it! R as in Right away! E as in Exactly what I said! E as in End of discussion!" He snickered. Then he slammed down the phone. I chewed my whiskers. "Um, what are you doing here, Grandfather?" I asked in a faint voice. "And why do you want to print three million guidebooks to Ratzikistan?" As usual, Grandfather ignored me. He is the worst listener. Instead, he began scribbling away on my notepad. Just then, my secretary, Mousella MacMouser, came in. She handed Grandfather a stack of papers. He leafed through them, grumbling. "These are all wrong!" he snorted. "Wrong, wrong, wrong!" He tore up the

papers and crumpled them into a ball. Then he jumped onto my desk. He struck a pose just like a professional basketball mouse. "SCORE!" he squeaked, shooting the ball into my wastepaper basket. My secretary and I looked at each other in shock. "The business is a mess, Geronimo!" he snorted. "You need to publish some bestsellers now or you can say bye-bye to your books forever!" I had no idea what Granddad was squeaking about. The company was doing GREAT. The newspaper was selling like cheese Popsicles in the summertime. And our books always sold well. Yes, we hadn't had a bestseller in a few months, but we were still making tons of money.

Of course, Grandfather William wouldn't listen. "Don't tell me how we're doing!" he shrieked. "I built this company with my bare paws! I know everything!" Uh-oh, This was going to be a lot harder than I thought. Once Grandfather gets an idea in his head, it sticks like a mouse in a glue trap. He's like the safe at the Regal Rodent Bank. A tough one to crack. I tried reasoning with him. "Um, but, Grandfather," I began in a gentle voice. "20 years ago, you left running the com- pany to me. Isn't this my job?" Can you guess his reply? Naturally, he didn't say a word. I told you my grandfather never listens. He was staring at my calendar. "Look at

all these appointments!" he squeaked. "I'm going to be busier than a ratburglar in the middle of a blackout." "But, Grandfather!" I complained. "Those are my appointments!" At that very moment, the phone rang. We both leaped for it. Unfortunately, the old mouse beat me to it.