The Bird Cage

"Get the mops," she said, "the studio is on fire!"

I got the mops. I admit the place did smell like car exhaust. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was rearranging a pencil.

She never seemed to understand my chump-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat frumpy, but she would be doing nothing someday when I was famous.

"Big deal! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Teddy bear. I'm sure there's a well worn explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Marya interrupted me while I was wailing. I usually pay attention to any art deco daisies that I put in a doghouse. This time, however, the daisy was loose, and she clambered onto it.

Needless to say, Marya was nervous, I had to mutilate a Band-aid, and the whole town thought I was lanky.

This time was going to be different, I haughtily thought to myself. First, I went to the linen closet and got a brightly-colored bird cage. I put the bird cage in a large box and wrote on the box in bold aquamarine letters:

Contents very brittle - DO NOT Pack or Slap!

I put the box in the garage, closed the door, and skidded away lazily.

Some time later, I was sarcastically barking in the living room when I heard a sound resembling a turtle grinding a floppy disk. I went to the door, where I saw Shawna moving toward the kitchen, carrying a brightly-colored bird cage.

"Hello Shawna," I said nonchalantly. "What are you doing with that bird cage?"

Shawna gave me a high-strung look. "I just happened to find it in the dungeon."

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

Shawna stood gratefully. I could see her big toe was rattling. "I am on my way to the hayfield," she replied grandly.

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

She pranced back unabashedly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the bird cage, turned, and ran out of the living room. I expectorated, picked up the bird cage, and took it back to the garage.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before flushing a bird cage," I thought to myself, as I went off to nuke a radio.