Mo was leading a rich and vibrant life—until the accident. He had been living in the basement of his brother’s place on New York’s upper east side for the past six months. The place wasn’t much, just a four story brownstone on East 86th between Lexington and Park. It was warm enough inside and he didn’t have to pay rent, but it was Christmas time and Mo was tired of the New York City’s icy winters. A few weeks earlier Mo learned from relatives on 84th Street, who were taking part in medical research at Rockefeller University, that a DNA analysis of his family’s DNA indicated that he had wealthy and famous distant relations starring in films and living in Beverly Hills. When Mo heard that, he decided that he should move to sunny Southern California and start training to be in movies.
Mo had never learned to drive, didn’t have money for airfare, and decided to stow away in the back of a UPS eighteen wheeler heading west. It took Mo almost a day to get to the UPS terminal, but once there it wasn’t long until he found a truck with California plates. Since Mo was small it wasn’t hard for him to wiggle into a crate loaded with boxes of industrial machinery. Soon the truck was humming along, and Mo went to sleep. All too soon the tambour door at the back of the UPS truck was rolled up and a forklift picked up Mo’s crate. Inside, Mo thought, “Geez, we can’t be in LA already. I wonder where we are?” Peeking through the slats of the crate, Mo saw a sign inside the UPS warehouse: Welcome to Chocolate Town, Hershey, PA. While Mo was wondering what to do next, a worker started prying off the other side of the crate. Fortunately, the worker took a coffee break before he discovered Mo, who slid out and hopped into a smaller UPS delivery truck to avoid discovery. Before he could gain his senses, the truck was moving. Soon Mo was getting very cold, so when the delivery van stopped on Areba Ave. in Hershey, he hopped out and looked for the first warm house.
He found a garage door that he could get open just enough to slide into a warm basement—just like NYC. But it was even better because there was constant Christmas music coming from speakers in the house. For the moment, Mo forgot about his dream to claim to be a rightful heir to some of Mickey and Minnie’s vast wealth because he smelled his favorite food—sunflower seeds. Mo’s reliable nose led him through the house, down the steps, and into the wine cellar. No light, but no matter, the fragrance of those salted sunflower seeds was beckoning. Then, just as he tasted the seed, he heard the spring steel snap and the last thought in his little mouse brain was, “I coulda been a contender