23-A NIGHTMARE NAMED...BESSIE!

A NIGHTMARE NAMED BESSIE! We finally arrived at Wicked Whiskers's ranch. It was dark and spooky-looking. The whole place made MY FUR CRAWL. Just then Wicked sauntered up. "Are you ready to lose, stranger? Are you ready to face Bessie?" he cackled. I tried to look tough, but inside I felt like a bowl of cream cheese and jelly. "N-n-no p-p-p-problem," I stammered. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. How bad could an animal named Bessie be? Then I saw him. Bessie, I mean. He was an immense black beast the size of two double-decker cheese delivery trucks. He had terrifying red eyes that looked

like they were on fire. His horns were as LONG as my tail. My eyes nearly popped out of my fur. No, Bessie wasn't dangerous. He was deadly! "W-w-what is that?" I croaked. Trap snorted. "Wake up and smell the cheese, Germeister," he scoffed. "It's a bull, of course. Look at those horns! One poke and you'll run squeaking for your life!" I felt faint. No wonder Wicked Whiskers knew he would Win the challenge. I'd never be able to ride Bessie. Not for all the Cheesy Chews in the world! "Go, cousin, move your tail!" Trap ordered. Then he PUSHED me. "Don't push me! I can't stand it when you push me!" I grabbed the fence. "I changed my mind. I CAN'T DO THIS!" I squeaked.

Thea rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't be such a crybaby mouse," she groaned. So much for her support, I steamed. A little poor grabbed mine. "Uncle Geronimo, you can do it. I have faith in you!" little Benjamin whispered. Of course, that's all it took. How could I let my dear sweet nephew down? I could hear Bessie snorting in his pen. He's not angry, I told myself. He's just got a bad cold. With shaky paws, I climbed onto his back. The door of the pen opened. Bessie took off like a shot! "Good-bye, Stiltons! Good-bye, Mick! Good-bye, rodents everywhere!" I sobbed.