When I was a child, I had my last milk tooth. He found his 6-year-old daughter, asks, said, why did not take his mouse from you? Her mouse always takes her teeth at night and puts a glowing rubber under the pillow in return. “No mouse has come to me,” I say, “so it lies.” In the morning, I understood why he was dusting for so many years. I look at the window, and there is a rubbish and a note written with a crazy handwriting: "This is my mouse, I have smashed that you have a tooth, I will give you a denge for it.