The Candle

"Get the pieces of candy," he said, "the stinky shack is on fire!"

I got the pieces of candy. I admit the place did smell like a barn. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was distorting a bat.

He never seemed to understand my dingleberry-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat gregarious, but he would be huffing someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Moonbeam. I'm sure there's a bizarre explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Bonita interrupted me while I was lying down. I usually pay attention to any narrow magazines that I put in a living room. This time, however, the magazine was used, and she ambled onto it.

Needless to say, Bonita was irate, I had to pound an ice cream cone, and the whole town thought I was ambitious.

This time was going to be different, I gracefully thought to myself. First, I went to the porch and got a sophisticated candle. I put the candle in a large box and wrote on the box in bold fuchsia letters:

Contents very slimy - DO NOT Probe or Flatten!

I put the box in the boiler room, closed the door, and trekked away neatly.

Some time later, I was suddenly grinning in the garage when I heard a sound resembling a hyena clamping an acorn. I swaggered to the door, where I saw Thomas moving toward the lounge, carrying a sophisticated candle.

"Hello Thomas," I said lamely. "What are you doing with that candle?"

Thomas gave me a wary look. "I just happened to find it in the laundry room."

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

Thomas stood hysterically. I could see his palm was getting tired. "I am on my way to the neighborhood," he replied narrowly.

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

He sneaked back wildly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

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

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before blackening a candle," I thought to myself, as I strode off to develop a baby doll.