The sun shone hot and bright in the middle of the afternoon sky as Fuzzyhead poked his head out of the covers, it had been a very long night and he was feeling all smooth. Fuzzyhead hated the way sleeping left his soft fuzz all flat and pressed, so standing up and stretching, he gave himself a little shake to try and ruffle up, but it didn't work. Fuzzyhead now felt smooth AND frustrated so, after some more vigorous shaking, he decides to give up and go downstairs for breakfast. As he is stumbling down the stairs, his mood changes to happiness as he smells breakfast cooking. 'Toasted chocolate! Toasted chocolate!'� He squeals in his croaky high pitched voice as he runs and jumps the last few stairs. Sitting at the table, Fuzzyhead is just about to start eating when Mama Roach knocks his hand away.

'You've been shaking haven't you?'� Mama Roach scolds. 'You know, all that shaking is going to tire you out; then you'll never get fuzzy.'� Fuzzyhead slouches in his seat and his excited smile quickly becomes a frown. Mama Roach looks at Fuzzyhead's forlorn face and puts a warm smile on her own. 'Silly boy; you know that breakfast is the only thing that makes you fuzzy; now enjoy your Toasted Chocolate.'� With a big grin on his eager face, Fuzzyhead starts excitedly eating his breakfast.

Taking bite after huge bite, Fuzzyhead's fur starts to get fuzzy and his eyes get dreamy; all the while big chunks of Toasted Chocolate getting stuck to his simple face. Mama Roach reaches over with a cloth and carefully wipes away the chunks placing them back in the bowl. 'Now be careful Fuzzyhead, Mama's told you how expensive and rare this breakfast is.'� 'I'm sorry Mama. I just enjoy eating it so much; it's my favoritest food in the whole world.'� Looking into Fuzzyhead's distant eyes, Mama Roach feels proud. 'It's time for school little man. Remember; what do you say when someone asks what you had for breakfast?'� Fuzzyhead's face looks sad and confused. 'Cornflakes.'� 'Good Boy.'� Getting more confused, Fuzzyhead asks a question: 'Why can't I tell my friends about Toasted Chocolate?'� Kneeling in front of Fuzzyhead, fixing his jacket and putting a cap onto his fuzzy head, Mama Roach calmly explains.

'If you tell your friends about Toasted Chocolate then they will want some. Then they will tell their friends, and those friends will want some. Soon I will not have enough to feed you all, and I will have to try to make my own, and the police will come to take me away from you.'� Fuzzyhead, looking very scared, asks; 'Why would the police take you away. Why? You haven't done nothing wrong. I don't want you to go.'� Pulling Fuzzyhead into her chest, Mama Roach puts her arms around him and says calmly; 'Shh little man, I'm not going anywhere.'�

Wiping the tears from his vacant eyes, Mama Roach speaks softly. 'You know how when you eat Toasted Chocolate you get all dreamy and are too tired to do bad things; well there are a lot of people out there who don't eat Toasted Chocolate and get all angry and hurt other people. The police are the ones who catch them, it's their job, the reason they get paid. If everybody felt like you do after breakfast, the police would be out of a job; so they want to stop people having Toasted Chocolate so they can keep their jobs.'�

Walking out of the front door, Fuzzyhead looks back at Mama Roach with a puzzled expression. 'That don't make any sense.'� 'I know baby.'� Closing the door behind her, Mama Roach sees a familiar silhouette at the back door. Supplies were getting low and she was getting desperate. This was the part of the world she had always filtered from Fuzzyhead

'I know baby, but it's the only story I've got.'�

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