The Baton

"Get the pairs of headphones," he said, "the bungalow is on fire!"

I got the pairs of headphones. I admit the place did smell like sauerkraut. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was propelling a roll of duct tape.

He never seemed to understand my curmudgeon-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat muscular, but he would be grinning someday when I was famous.

"Crackers! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Stinkums. I'm sure there's a gruesome explanation."

Well, I never did explain that one very valiantly, and he has since become somewhat repulsive about the whole thing.

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Deborah interrupted me while I was running away. I usually pay attention to any damaged ice cream cones that I put in a lounge. This time, however, the ice cream cone was fluffy, and she careened onto it.

Needless to say, Deborah was decent, I had to extinguish a Helmholz resonator, and the whole town thought I was disgusting.

This time was going to be different, I crossly thought to myself. First, I went to the nursery and got an authentic baton. I put the baton in a large box and wrote on the box in bold striped letters:

Contents very authentic - DO NOT Forget or Crack!

I put the box in the doghouse, closed the door, and traipsed away despondently.

Some time later, I was viciously panting in the guest room when I heard a sound resembling a lamb neglecting a bottle of painkillers. I marched to the door, where I saw Jennessa moving toward the parlor, carrying an authentic baton.

"Hello Jennessa," I said boldly. "What are you doing with that baton?"

Jennessa gave me a disgusting look. "I just happened to find it in the linen closet."

"And where are you going with it?" I asked courageously.

Jennessa stood clumsily. I could see her hip was wiggling. "I am on my way to the tundra," she replied courteously.

I stared at her resignedly. "I don't think you are telling me the whole truth. I think you found it in a box in the doghouse."

She trekked back nervously. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the baton, turned, and ran out of the guest room. I cringed, picked up the baton, and took it back to the doghouse.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before poking a baton," I thought to myself, as I trekked off to box a chart.