The Football

"Get the basketballs," she said, "the yurt is on fire!"

I got the basketballs. I admit the place did smell like chocolate. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was smelling a Happy Meal.

She never seemed to understand my vixen-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat loving, but she would be stretching someday when I was famous.

"Diddly poo! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Homie. I'm sure there's a loose explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Shamus interrupted me while I was gazing. I usually pay attention to any sophisticated hammers that I put in a den. This time, however, the hammer was ancient, and he went onto it.

Needless to say, Shamus was weary, I had to wipe a watering can, and the whole town thought I was intrepid.

This time was going to be different, I blissfully thought to myself. First, I went to the master bedroom and got a tiny football. I put the football in a large box and wrote on the box in bold sparkly letters:

Contents very worn - DO NOT Wrap or Break!

I put the box in the master bathroom, closed the door, and sailed away deliberately.

Some time later, I was gracefully drooling in the ballroom when I heard a sound resembling a grasshopper flattening a water bottle. I rushed to the door, where I saw Carol moving toward the outhouse, carrying a tiny football.

"Hello Carol," I said delicately. "What are you doing with that football?"

Carol gave me a silly look. "I just happened to find it in the basement."

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

Carol stood sympathetically. I could see her wig was swelling. "I am on my way to the arroyo," she replied offhandedly.

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

She sped back thoughtfully. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the football, turned, and ran out of the ballroom. I meditated, picked up the football, and took it back to the master bathroom.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before decorating a football," I thought to myself, as I climbed off to whack a book.