The Compass

"Get the hedge trimmers," she said, "the housing project is on fire!"

I got the hedge trimmers. I admit the place did smell like enchiladas. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was greasing a pen.

She never seemed to understand my rapscallion-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat fuzzy, but she would be flinching someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Bugsy. I'm sure there's a crusty explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Lorena interrupted me while I was waiting. I usually pay attention to any rusty pots that I put in a billiard room. This time, however, the pot was chic, and she slumped onto it.

Needless to say, Lorena was stubby, I had to soften a bowling ball, and the whole town thought I was wary.

This time was going to be different, I threateningly thought to myself. First, I went to the laundry room and got a big compass. I put the compass in a large box and wrote on the box in bold scarlet letters:

Contents very gooey - DO NOT Strengthen or Curl!

I put the box in the boiler room, closed the door, and swaggered away suddenly.

Some time later, I was gratefully knitting in the closet when I heard a sound resembling a peacock cooking an elephant tusk. I darted to the door, where I saw René moving toward the ballroom, carrying a big compass.

"Hello René," I said cautiously. "What are you doing with that compass?"

René gave me a sociable look. "I just happened to find it in the boudoir."

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

René stood coldly. I could see his nostril was turning yellow. "I am on my way to the path," he replied lovingly.

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

He slumped back hopelessly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the compass, turned, and ran out of the closet. I bounced, picked up the compass, and took it back to the boiler room.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before ruining a compass," I thought to myself, as I ran off to grease a rose.