Mice genetically engineered to be psychotic by researchers at the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center have refused to go on with testing this week, threatening to bring the program to a halt until they are given the “cheese boots” they so desire. The mice, bred to be insane by the mutation of two genes, have been used in a series of experiments over the last two months researchers hoped would shed new light on schizophrenia and its genetic components, information that could one day aid in treatment and prevention of the debilitating mental illness.

Researchers are uncertain where the mice got the idea about cheese boots, but insist that the mice are “fucking nuts” if they think the UT team is going to devote hours to carving tiny mouse boots out of cheddar cheese.

Since the mice made their original demand they have become belligerent and uncooperative, refusing to take part in various insanity-measuring trials. The mice’s normal routine involve tests of “crazy-maze” navigation, spatial perception in relation to tiny carnival funhouse mirrors, and proper differentiation between funny mouse movies, like Mouse Hunt, and serious mouse movies, like Stuart Little or The Mouse and the Motorcycle.

When asked how one can tell a psychotic mouse from a normal, sane mouse, project head Dean Sarcanon explained that the sane mice are the ones that don’t have “that crazy look in their eyes.” Additionally, researchers have observed the psychotic mice acting erratically, avoiding social situations, and combing their hair with their testicles.

The mice, which communicate with researchers through a series of small metal levers that correspond to musical tones, repeated their demands for cheese boots Monday, and then spent the rest of the day playing “Hot Cross Buns” on the musical levers.

Researchers hope the mice will eventually soften their demands and settle for more realistic and less difficult to produce items, such as cheese hats, instead.

“Oh yeah, we can make cheese hats,” explained lab technician Arthur Keys. “No problem. I’ve already made a few to show the mice how nice they are.”

Keys demonstrated for the commune a series of fashionable cheese hat prototypes he had created in his spare time, each of which was lovely.

“It’s really pretty simple,” explained Keys. “You take a cheesy cracker, like a Cheez-It or even better, a Ched-Unk, and attach a little wedge of brie on top here with a hot glue gun.”

“The hardest part is making the tiny chin strap,” Keys solemnly intoned, with an entirely straight face. “That’s where I really earn my $17,000 a year.”

As the story has gained national attention, UT researchers have come under pressure to concede to the cheese boot demands, a move that project head Sarcanon believes would be a grave mistake.

“Once you bend over backwards to make these mice cheese boots, then were does it end?” Sarcanon asked, shrugging his shoulders. “You have to remember, these are crazy mice we’re talking about here. What are they going to ask for next? Little biker jackets made out of provolone? A Minnie Mouse blow-up doll? What if they want a tiny piñata party, how do we pull that off?”

According to other researchers on the team, the mice don’t like Sarcanon, and regularly play the notes F-A-G on their musical levers when he enters the room. Although Sarcanon claims to be a good sport about this, he did seem strangely pissy when this reporter joined in on kazoo.