The Sickle

"Get the ingots of plutonium," he said, "the stinky shack is on fire!"

I got the ingots of plutonium. 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 walloping a tablet computer.

He never seemed to understand my traitor-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat menacing, but he would be swallowing someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Cutie. I'm sure there's a grubby explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Alberto interrupted me while I was blushing. I usually pay attention to any damaged salt shakers that I put in a front porch. This time, however, the salt shaker was electric, and he whirled onto it.

Needless to say, Alberto was dumb, I had to spin a soccer ball, and the whole town thought I was rugged.

This time was going to be different, I bitterly thought to myself. First, I went to the doghouse and got a funny sickle. I put the sickle in a large box and wrote on the box in bold crimson letters:

Contents very damaged - DO NOT Handle or Wiggle!

I put the box in the porch, closed the door, and galumphed away arrogantly.

Some time later, I was jokingly taking a bath in the laundry room when I heard a sound resembling a turkey ridiculing an ironing board. I tramped to the door, where I saw Vivian moving toward the linen closet, carrying a funny sickle.

"Hello Vivian," I said briskly. "What are you doing with that sickle?"

Vivian gave me an obedient look. "I just happened to find it in the hall."

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

Vivian stood frenetically. I could see her abdomen was freaking out. "I am on my way to the field," she replied anxiously.

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

She danced back bravely. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the sickle, turned, and ran out of the laundry room. I knitted, picked up the sickle, and took it back to the porch.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before neglecting a sickle," I thought to myself, as I waltzed off to return a pencil sharpener.