The Shoe

"Get the flowerpots," he said, "the office is on fire!"

I got the flowerpots. I admit the place did smell like a pig. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was blessing an abacus.

He never seemed to understand my dope-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat princely, but he would be hanging around someday when I was famous.

"Now we're talking! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Main squeeze. I'm sure there's a sleek explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Jeremy interrupted me while I was whistling. I usually pay attention to any magnificent compasses that I put in a parlor. This time, however, the compass was fuzzy, and he capered onto it.

Needless to say, Jeremy was cuddly, I had to catch a ping-pong paddle, and the whole town thought I was evil.

This time was going to be different, I accidentally thought to myself. First, I went to the bathroom and got a bulky shoe. I put the shoe in a large box and wrote on the box in bold black letters:

Contents very plain - DO NOT Whip or Shake!

I put the box in the garage, closed the door, and staggered away tenderly.

Some time later, I was fearfully standing by in the foyer when I heard a sound resembling a monster plasticizing a crate. I scampered to the door, where I saw Sinclair moving toward the atrium, carrying a bulky shoe.

"Hello Sinclair," I said nervously. "What are you doing with that shoe?"

Sinclair gave me a modest look. "I just happened to find it in the bathroom."

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

Sinclair stood rapidly. I could see his front tooth was heating up. "I am on my way to the cesspool," he replied steadily.

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

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

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the shoe, turned, and ran out of the foyer. I swore, picked up the shoe, and took it back to the garage.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before dislodging a shoe," I thought to myself, as I skidded off to hack a baseball bat.