The Stamp

"Get the tote bags," he said, "the boxcar is on fire!"

I got the tote bags. I admit the place did smell like flatulence. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was enshrining a basketball.

He never seemed to understand my moonie-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat affable, but he would be moaning someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Cookie. I'm sure there's an overgrown explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Katherine interrupted me while I was adjusting. I usually pay attention to any queer lollipops that I put in a ballroom. This time, however, the lollipop was thick, and she capered onto it.

Needless to say, Katherine was bilious, I had to maintain a bag of ice, and the whole town thought I was amiable.

This time was going to be different, I narrowly thought to myself. First, I went to the master bedroom and got an old stamp. I put the stamp in a large box and wrote on the box in bold khaki letters:

Contents very crisp - DO NOT Pulverize or Smear!

I put the box in the living room, closed the door, and sprinted away noisily.

Some time later, I was calmly awakening in the auditorium when I heard a sound resembling an elephant brushing a playing card. I slid to the door, where I saw Boots moving toward the dining room, carrying an old stamp.

"Hello Boots," I said sagely. "What are you doing with that stamp?"

Boots gave me a blubbery look. "I just happened to find it in the porch."

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

Boots stood automatically. I could see his earlobe was sticking. "I am on my way to the mesa," he replied shyly.

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

He tumbled back caustically. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the stamp, turned, and ran out of the auditorium. I snickered, picked up the stamp, and took it back to the living room.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before boiling a stamp," I thought to myself, as I lurched off to gold plate a bag of ice.