The World According to Humphrey Read Online Free Page B

smile. “But not anymore. Now I’m the principal of my own school.”
    I told you he was important.
    His house was nice, but I didn’t get to see much of it because as soon as we came in the door, two little whirl-winds tumbled into the room, shrieking and squealing.
    “Quiet down, now. You’ll frighten the little fellow,” Mr. Morales told them. He got that right.
    He introduced us. The little boy, who was about five, was named Willy. He kept poking his fingers through the wires of the cage. I was about to bite him—pure instinct—but then I remembered: This is the son of the Most Important Person at Longfellow School. So I didn’t.
    The little girl, who was about seven, was named Brenda. She kept sticking her face up against the cage and squealing. I tried squeaking back at her, but I don’t think she could hear me.
    Mr. Morales tried to quiet them down. He explained that I was a guest for the weekend and they had to treat me with respect.
    They didn’t listen.
    A pretty lady rushed through the room, jingling her car keys. “I’m late. I have a house to show.” She glanced in my direction. “We’ll talk about that later. Adiós. ”
    Mr. Morales wished her luck and she was gone. Then he carried me into the den with Willy and Brenda clinging to his legs and yelping.
    My cage was swinging back and forth so much, I was getting airsick. Or cage-sick.
    Mr. Morales set my cage on a table in their family room.
    “Now get back and listen to me,” he told his children. “I’ll tell you all about him.”
    “Can we take him out?” screamed Willy.
    “Can we put him in my room?” shouted Brenda. “Can he sleep with me tonight?”
    “We can’t do anything until you settle down,” Mr. Morales said.
    Bravo, Mr. Morales, I thought.
    But still, the children didn’t listen. The Most Important Person at Longfellow School was not treated with respect in his own house.
    Willy lurched forward and swung open the cage door.
    “Oooh, there’s poo in there!” he screamed.
    “Where? Where?” shrieked Brenda.
    Willy pointed to my potty corner, which I thought was unsqueakably rude of him.
    “I want to hold him,” said Brenda, grabbing me.
    She squeezed me so hard, I let out a squeal.
    “Stop!” said Mr. Morales. “Put him back right now!”
    She opened her hand and dropped me onto the floor of my cage. Luckily, I landed in a pile of soft bedding.
    Luckily, I didn’t land in my poo.
    I was a little dizzy, but I heard Mr. Morales send Willy and Brenda to their rooms.
    “I will not allow you to mistreat an animal. Upstairs. Doors shut. No playing until I say you can,” he said.
    Suddenly, Mr. Morales didn’t look so important. He slumped down in the chair next to my cage and loosened his tie.
    “Now you know my secret, Humphrey. At school, everybody listens to me. At home, nobody listens to me,” he said.
    Mr. Morales looked TIRED-TIRED-TIRED.
    Above our heads came the sounds of thumping and bumping. It sounded as if the ceiling was about to fall in.
    “They’re bouncing on their beds, Humphrey. Not supposed to do that, either,” he said.
    He slowly rose and went to the stairway in the hall.
    “Willy! Brenda! Stop that now!” he yelled.
    Surprisingly, the thumping and bumping stopped.
    “They listened!” I squeaked when the principal sat down again. But the thumping and bumping began again in a minute.
    “I wish I knew what to do,” he said. “Some way to teach them a lesson.”
    I nodded. A lesson is just what those children needed.
    And I was just the hamster to teach them.
    TIP FOUR: Never, ever squeeze, pinch or crush a hamster. If it runs away, squeals or mutters, leave the hamster alone.
     
    Guide to the Care and Feeding of Hamsters, Dr. Harvey H. Hammer

5
    Plans Are Hatched
    W hen Mr. Morales went into the kitchen to get a glass of water, I carefully opened the lock-that-doesn’t-lock and slipped out of my cage. I leaped over to the chair, then scampered down to the floor and hid in the