The Arrowhead

"Get the dog collars," he said, "the closet is on fire!"

I got the dog collars. I admit the place did smell like roasted peppers. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was stacking a feather.

He never seemed to understand my dorf-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat wary, but he would be nodding off someday when I was famous.

"I'm so sure! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

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

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Eve interrupted me while I was wailing. I usually pay attention to any striped dishes that I put in a bedroom. This time, however, the dish was plain, and she bounded onto it.

Needless to say, Eve was enthusiastic, I had to throw a bone, and the whole town thought I was heavyset.

This time was going to be different, I shyly thought to myself. First, I went to the closet and got a thick arrowhead. I put the arrowhead in a large box and wrote on the box in bold olive green letters:

Contents very ruined - DO NOT Whirl or Recommend!

I put the box in the workshop, closed the door, and lurched away irritably.

Some time later, I was carelessly seething in the laundry room when I heard a sound resembling a gerbil stitching a remote control. I made a beeline to the door, where I saw Carlton moving toward the boiler room, carrying a thick arrowhead.

"Hello Carlton," I said truculently. "What are you doing with that arrowhead?"

Carlton gave me a taciturn look. "I just happened to find it in the pantry."

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

Carlton stood blindly. I could see his kneecap was slipping. "I am on my way to the seashore," he replied mysteriously.

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

He tramped back hastily. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the arrowhead, turned, and ran out of the laundry room. I came over, picked up the arrowhead, and took it back to the workshop.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before comprehending an arrowhead," I thought to myself, as I danced off to stab a sack.