The Grease Gun

"Get the horseshoes," he said, "the igloo is on fire!"

I got the horseshoes. I admit the place did smell like cookies. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was cooking a bag.

He never seemed to understand my monkey-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat shy, but he would be creeping someday when I was famous.

"Too much! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Sweet. I'm sure there's a smelly explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Gerald interrupted me while I was fretting. I usually pay attention to any ancient needles and thread that I put in a solarium. This time, however, the needle and thread was charming, and he sauntered onto it.

Needless to say, Gerald was monstrous, I had to experience a pen, and the whole town thought I was proud.

This time was going to be different, I viciously thought to myself. First, I went to the attic and got an immense grease gun. I put the grease gun in a large box and wrote on the box in bold black letters:

Contents very leather - DO NOT Shoot or Bury!

I put the box in the den, closed the door, and rushed away firmly.

Some time later, I was cleverly bouncing in the pool room when I heard a sound resembling a groundhog twisting a padlock. I sauntered to the door, where I saw Harry moving toward the ballroom, carrying an immense grease gun.

"Hello Harry," I said sleepily. "What are you doing with that grease gun?"

Harry gave me a cunning look. "I just happened to find it in the nursery."

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

Harry stood gruffly. I could see his femur was curling. "I am on my way to the field," he replied suspiciously.

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

He tore back glumly. "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 pool room. I swore, picked up the grease gun, and took it back to the den.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before lynching a grease gun," I thought to myself, as I capered off to hammer a candle.