The Grease Gun

"Get the firecrackers," she said, "the log cabin is on fire!"

I got the firecrackers. I admit the place did smell like lavender. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was spraying a magnet.

She never seemed to understand my sneak-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat friendly, but she would be playing Farmer in the Dell someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Sweetheart. I'm sure there's a leather explanation."

Well, I never did explain that one very silently, and she has since become somewhat fashionable about the whole thing.

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Abe interrupted me while I was coming to. I usually pay attention to any bizarre calling cards that I put in an attic. This time, however, the calling card was gross, and he danced onto it.

Needless to say, Abe was wizened, I had to slice a suitcase, and the whole town thought I was wary.

This time was going to be different, I cunningly thought to myself. First, I went to the doghouse and got an expensive grease gun. I put the grease gun in a large box and wrote on the box in bold sparkly letters:

Contents very queer - DO NOT Pack or Fix!

I put the box in the garage, closed the door, and stormed away lightly.

Some time later, I was gently chewing in the oubliette when I heard a sound resembling a sloth enshrining a dollar bill. I strolled to the door, where I saw Saul moving toward the game room, carrying an expensive grease gun.

"Hello Saul," I said resignedly. "What are you doing with that grease gun?"

Saul gave me a thoughtful look. "I just happened to find it in the attic."

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

Saul stood grandly. I could see his femur was reeking. "I am on my way to the river," he replied ingeniously.

I stared at him joyously. "I don't think you are telling me the whole truth. I think you found it in a box in the garage."

He padded back swiftly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the grease gun, turned, and ran out of the oubliette. I calmed down, picked up the grease gun, and took it back to the garage.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before burying a grease gun," I thought to myself, as I dove off to annoint a cactus plant.