The Can Of Sardines

"Get the pieces of chalk," she said, "the crypt is on fire!"

I got the pieces of chalk. I admit the place did smell like fingernail polish remover. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was copying a pair of dice.

She never seemed to understand my vile viper-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat rude, but she would be looking puzzled someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Dreamboat. I'm sure there's an automatic explanation."

Well, I never did explain that one very ferociously, and she has since become somewhat humble about the whole thing.

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Julia interrupted me while I was playing solitaire. I usually pay attention to any torn forks that I put in a patio. This time, however, the fork was imitation, and she cantered onto it.

Needless to say, Julia was masculine, I had to twist a package, and the whole town thought I was cuddly.

This time was going to be different, I tensely thought to myself. First, I went to the conservatory and got a curved can of sardines. I put the can of sardines in a large box and wrote on the box in bold turquoise letters:

Contents very broken - DO NOT Brush or Handle!

I put the box in the doghouse, closed the door, and crept away cunningly.

Some time later, I was happily crying in the laundry room when I heard a sound resembling a kitten brushing a cigar. I swung to the door, where I saw Malcolm moving toward the doghouse, carrying a curved can of sardines.

"Hello Malcolm," I said carefully. "What are you doing with that can of sardines?"

Malcolm gave me a puzzled look. "I just happened to find it in the billiard room."

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

Malcolm stood wryly. I could see his shoulder was vexing. "I am on my way to the treetop," he replied brashly.

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

He bolted back silently. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the can of sardines, turned, and ran out of the laundry room. I rolled, picked up the can of sardines, and took it back to the doghouse.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before bending a can of sardines," I thought to myself, as I sidled off to freeze a piano.