15-GOOD LUCK, STILTON!

GOOD LUCK, STILTON! Suddenly, the lights in the studio went out. A big grandfather clock began striking the hours. One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine... ten... eleven... ... twelve... Twelve strokes. It was midnight! The lights came back on. I blinked. Two sturdy rats grabbed me. "Your hour has come, Stilton!" they growled. They dragged me toward a huge mousetrap. It looked like every rodent's worst nightmare. But I didn't try to fight them. It was too late to turn back now! Behind me, Shif T. Paws called out,

"GOOD LUCK, STILTON!" "I'll need it," I squeaked weakly. Stay calm, Geronimo, I told myself. Do it for The Rodent's Gazette! The rats slipped my tail under the spring in the trap. They put my paws in chains. Now it was definitely too late to turn back! Vlad Torturetail came out holding a microphone. "Meet tonight's victim—I mean, contestant—Mr. Geronimo Stilton from New Mouse City!"