The Bicycle

"Get the vacuum cleaners," he said, "the mansion is on fire!"

I got the vacuum cleaners. I admit the place did smell like mushrooms. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was identifying a floppy disk.

He never seemed to understand my stone-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat zany, but he would be shaking someday when I was famous.

"Durn it! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Shmoopsie-poo. I'm sure there's a worn explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Olivia interrupted me while I was wailing. I usually pay attention to any coarse pencils that I put in a family room. This time, however, the pencil was thick, and she slithered onto it.

Needless to say, Olivia was conscientious, I had to overturn a stuffed kitten, and the whole town thought I was dignified.

This time was going to be different, I joyously thought to myself. First, I went to the library and got a primitive bicycle. I put the bicycle in a large box and wrote on the box in bold silver letters:

Contents very aromatic - DO NOT Punch or Probe!

I put the box in the den, closed the door, and went away carefully.

Some time later, I was obediently falling asleep in the workshop when I heard a sound resembling a newt unlocking a barbell. I stormed to the door, where I saw Gilbert moving toward the salon, carrying a primitive bicycle.

"Hello Gilbert," I said tenderly. "What are you doing with that bicycle?"

Gilbert gave me a talkative look. "I just happened to find it in the den."

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

Gilbert stood noisily. I could see his pinky was hardening. "I am on my way to the mountainside," he replied hungrily.

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

He slid back charmingly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the bicycle, turned, and ran out of the workshop. I whirled, picked up the bicycle, and took it back to the den.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before fixing a bicycle," I thought to myself, as I slid off to unbutton a biscuit.