Bugsy scampered off to her aunt, Petunia Pretty Paws, house.
She ran up to her aunts doorsteps. She rang the doorbell. The door opened.
Petunia stood there, and Bugsy jumped into her arms.
"It's good to see you, Bugsy," Petunia said. "Is there anything you want?"
"Well, I'm part of a group called St. Nick's elves, mice who believe in Santa Claus," Bugsy began. "But there's another group, the Santa-Biters, and every winter they convince mice to turn from Santa. What are we supposed to do?"
"Well, what do you usually do?" Petunia asked.
"There are two things we usually do," Bugsy said. "One, we argue with the Santa-Biters."
"What's the second thing?" Petunia asked.
"We punch their lights out," Bugsy answered.
"Well, uh, have you tried reasoning with them?" Petunia asked.
"Yes, three times," Bugsy said. "We ended up with ice melting in our jackets."
"They took off your jackets and covered it with snow?" Petunia asked.
"No, they dumped it down our jackets while we were still wearing it," Bugsy said. "That's the main reasons we punched their lights out."
"They sound mean," Petunia said.
"They are," Bugsy said. "Yesterday they tied me and Penniford up. If St. Nick's elves hadn't come we would've been covered in snow."
"Well, if you can't reason with them, avoid them," Petunia said.
"That's good advice," Bugsy said. "Thank you."
She scampered out of the house.
"I can't reason with Punk Rat," I said to Geronimo. "What am I supposed to do?"
Geronimo grimaced. He remembered Punk Rat. That brat kept playing mean pranks on him.
"Well, don't talk to him," Geronimo said.
"I've tried that, he won't leave me alone," I said.
"Well, if he won't leave you alone, punch his lights out," Geronimo said.
"Well, OK," I said.
I walked out of the house.