Three-Minute Fiction: Mickey Mickey You're So Fine By Sally Reno When I moved into the mahogany tree house on the corner of Newton Street, there was a recently divorced mom and 5-year-old boy living on the first floor. They were kind of shell-shocked and so was the dad, living a few blocks away.

Mickey Mickey You're So Fine

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When I moved into the mahogany tree house on the corner of Newton Street, there was a recently divorced mom and 5-year-old boy living on the first floor. They were kind of shell-shocked and so was the dad, living a few blocks away. Remorseful for having brought this confusion to their son, both parents kept promising a trip to Disney World to put things right.

One day my brother Bo dropped by to lie to me about one thing or another and met the little guy on the stairs. Back then, Bo looked like God had made him by hand and most people took him for three or four inches taller than the 6 foot, 1 inch he actually was. He was wearing a Mickey Mouse t-shirt. The little guy summoned all his bravado to demand, "Where'd you get the t-shirt, Bubba?"

Unwilling to disappoint a little guy, Bo rocked back on his heels, crossed his arms like a gangster and said, dangerously, "I took it off a big mouse."