Man or Mouse? 

When you’re locked in a closet, and it’s dark, and quiet because everyone went outside for recess, it’s peaceful, really. Better than being caught red handed, stealing Mrs. Pond’s hamster. She calls him Little Gooey, which is insulting. The girls make kissy faces and whisper his name into the cage, stick their fingers in and pat his head, which he hates. A name like Gooey undermines confidence in the entire genus and species. And kissy faces. Grant me patience. Even I want to run pointlessly in the metal wheel when I see those.  

“Can I hold him? Oh Pleasssse,” they beg and the poor hamster is squeezed by sticky hands. After, he has to wipe his whole body down with his little paws; then bury himself in the cedar chips. Girl fingers. Kissy face breath. Alas. 

I pat my pocket and Teeth of Greatness gurgles happily. He doesn’t know we’re in the supply closet because it’s dark inside my pocket and I brought broccoli like he told me to. He’s chewing away. Oblivious. Happy.  

I’ve been planning all week, to get him out, let him loose. I had him in my hand when Mrs. Pond looked up, so I shoved him in my pocket and asked to go to the supply closet for a pencil. And then the recess bell rang and there I was. In the closet, behind the shelves, trying to get him safely out of my pocket. Click. Mrs. Pond locked the supply closet. It’s as if the Crayon Bandido is going to rush in as soon as the class goes to recess I’ve almost fallen asleep when I smell something.  

“Do you smell that?” I whisper. 

Teeth of Greatness says, why yes, yes he does. He pokes his nose out of my pocket, goes directly to the darkest corner of the closet to gnaw and gnaw. Mesocriccetus auratus is a species known for teeth that never stop growing. Teeth that can chew through almost anything.  

Just as the class is coming back, just as Sally Jardini yells “WHERE’S GOOEY!” the hole is big enough for both of us. I wiggle thru and follow Teeth, the sound of his tiny claws, clicking away at a pace into the gloom. I’m not sure what I smell, but it gets stronger as I edge forward.  

A thousand pair of teeth click in unison, like applause when the star finally comes on stage. A roar of clicking. A horde of hamsters.  

“Why the human?  Oh Great One,” the closest hamster squeaks. The rest take up the chant. “Why why WHY?!!” 

“What human?” Teeth of Greatness asks and my nose itches. When I scratch – there’s whiskers. Behind me, a tail. My hands are small and clawed.  

“Squeeeeek,” I protest, blinking. The world has lost all color and things are blurry. Mesocriccetus auratus do not have good eye sight. They rely on a strong sense of smell to navigate their world.  

Teeth of Greatness pushes me back the way we came. “The girls are waiting for you.” He makes rodent kissy faces in my general direction.  

I follow the scent trail back the way I came, scurrying along. Teeth of Greatness has ordered me to retreat.  

Back in the cage, I find myself happy to run pointlessly in the spinning hamster wheel of shame. Going no where. Waiting for food pellets.