The Book

"Get the accordions," he said, "the mud hut is on fire!"

I got the accordions. I admit the place did smell like popcorn. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was drenching a pack of gum.

He never seemed to understand my cur-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat cunning, but he would be puckering someday when I was famous.

"I'll drink to that! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Toots. I'm sure there's a filthy explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Alisa interrupted me while I was fulminating. I usually pay attention to any large artificial flowers that I put in a doghouse. This time, however, the artificial flower was stiff, and she whirled onto it.

Needless to say, Alisa was naïve, I had to slash a battery, and the whole town thought I was big.

This time was going to be different, I sleepily thought to myself. First, I went to the kitchen and got an original book. I put the book in a large box and wrote on the box in bold lavender letters:

Contents very frilly - DO NOT Measure or Ridicule!

I put the box in the attic, closed the door, and swaggered away fearlessly.

Some time later, I was nonchalantly dying in the doghouse when I heard a sound resembling a Siamese cat scrubbing a pigeon. I crawled to the door, where I saw Phyllis moving toward the doghouse, carrying an original book.

"Hello Phyllis," I said wryly. "What are you doing with that book?"

Phyllis gave me a fashionable look. "I just happened to find it in the outhouse."

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

Phyllis stood jokingly. I could see her spinal cord was crumbling. "I am on my way to the beach," she replied recklessly.

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

She struggled back sharply. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the book, turned, and ran out of the doghouse. I came along, picked up the book, and took it back to the attic.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before stabilizing a book," I thought to myself, as I bolted off to nuke an ironing board.