Soda and Jeanine Rejoice!

As the start of school approaches, our little school friends Soda and Jeanine have thrown party after party in the past two weeks. With the prospect of Stuyvesant students coming back to school in the fall, Jeanine has been over the moon. Since I am their best friend (after all, I wrote an article about them), they graciously let me record their interactions so that The Spectator can share their enthusiasm with the world.

“Soda, when was the last time you washed the dishes?” Jeanine asked.

“We don’t use dishes, Jeanine. We’re mice.”

“Oh, right.”

“Jeanine, why are you talking about dishes?”

“Well, now that the kiddos are coming back, we need to get the fine china ready!”

“Jeanine, once again. We don’t offer any dishes. Ever. We would literally die if we did that. Our china are the size of their toes.”

“You’re such a party pooper…”

“For not wanting to die?”

“Yeah, Soda… You’ve always been like this.”

“Jeanine, I’m gonna need you to stop starting fights every time we talk. I’m gonna go clean the china.”

“Soda, apparently we don’t use china.”

“I can’t with you.”

Yikes, this isn’t what I was looking for. I couldn’t keep recording this fight, so I turned off the mic until the next morning. I’m so sorry. You won’t get your drama fix for the day. Go watch Entertainment Tonight or something. My job is to record mice and frogs, not give you tea.

“Good morning, Soda!”

“Morning, Jeanine. Looks like someone’s cheery this morning.”

“Yes, I am! I remembered the children are gonna walk these halls again!”

“Oh my gosh! I almost forgot… Jeanine, that makes me so nervous my kidneys could rupture! Wait, I should get tested for renal medullary carcinoma…”

“Soda, you don’t have RMC. Regardless, we’re gonna get our share table back! Aren’t you excited?”

“Our? Isn’t it for the children? You know, to share?”

“Soda, let’s be completely honest with ourselves here. I have never seen a single soul take something from that table.”

“Fair point. But oh my goodness, Jeanine, I am so inexplicably disgusted at the thought of the children roaming these halls again. You know what they do in the Hudson. I can’t run into any more high school romances. Please.”

“While you bring up a good point, don’t you remember how they used to scream with joy whenever they saw us in their bio labs?”

“Jeanine, I hate to break it to you, but that wasn’t joy. They literally want nothing to do with us.”

“Then we should get them to love us. Should we throw a party for the kids?”

“Jeanine, please. I told you yesterday, anything we do to try to talk to those juveniles would get us killed.”

“Ugh, Soda, I’m so tired of this. You know what, I still wish the kids were here. Some of them left snacks in their lockers. You don’t understand how good stale pizza bagels from Terry’s or a hardened baconeggandcheese from Ferry’s or three-week-old iced coffee from that hearty cart in front of the A/C/E station are.”

“They’re so gross, oh my gosh.”

“Wait, Soda, what are we going to do once they actually get here? No matter how much you don’t want them here, they’re bound to come eventually.”

“I think we should make posters in the computer labs and put them around the school during the night before they get here to tell them not to kill us. We’re just small animals, after all.”

“While that sounds futile because we can’t write, I think it’s an absolutely amazing idea. They’ll never suspect it was us. They’ll think it was an eccentric student with too much ink, unrestricted printing abilities, and tiny footprints.”

“Wait, Jeanine, are we being recorded?”

“Oh my gosh, Soda. You’re right. No one can know our relationship has faults!”

My microphone then magically lost signal. I’m still mad about that. Do you know how much bubble tea I had to abstain from buying to afford this little microphone? I want to cry. Actually, I will go cry. Be right back. Until then, toodles.