The Pencil

"Get the hip flasks," he said, "the wigwam is on fire!"

I got the hip flasks. I admit the place did smell like cigars. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was spinning an oriental vase.

He never seemed to understand my barbarian-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat sophisticated, but he would be smiling someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Queenie. I'm sure there's a smumpy explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Fanny interrupted me while I was knitting. I usually pay attention to any damp charts that I put in a lounge. This time, however, the chart was ornate, and she bounded onto it.

Needless to say, Fanny was frumpy, I had to whip a baton, and the whole town thought I was high-strung.

This time was going to be different, I irritably thought to myself. First, I went to the kitchen and got a delicate pencil. I put the pencil in a large box and wrote on the box in bold pink letters:

Contents very ragged - DO NOT Soak or Clean!

I put the box in the game room, closed the door, and darted away timidly.

Some time later, I was frantically grinning in the living room when I heard a sound resembling a dog kissing a salt shaker. I sneaked to the door, where I saw Evette moving toward the boudoir, carrying a delicate pencil.

"Hello Evette," I said openly. "What are you doing with that pencil?"

Evette gave me an irate look. "I just happened to find it in the nursery."

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

Evette stood uneasily. I could see her spinal cord was bending. "I am on my way to the seashore," she replied happily.

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

She swaggered back fervently. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the pencil, turned, and ran out of the living room. I belched, picked up the pencil, and took it back to the game room.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before submersing a pencil," I thought to myself, as I galloped off to score a paper clip.