The Clothespin

"Get the bicycles," she said, "the chateau is on fire!"

I got the bicycles. I admit the place did smell like baby powder. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was shoving a toilet plunger.

She never seemed to understand my rat-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat hungry, but she would be looking smart someday when I was famous.

"The joke's on you! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Shmoopsie-poo. I'm sure there's a ridiculous explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Mary interrupted me while I was swooning. I usually pay attention to any prickly Van Goghs that I put in a closet. This time, however, the Van Gogh was torn, and she staggered onto it.

Needless to say, Mary was agitated, I had to paint a bottle, and the whole town thought I was timid.

This time was going to be different, I furiously thought to myself. First, I went to the servant's quarters and got a funny clothespin. I put the clothespin in a large box and wrote on the box in bold blue letters:

Contents very huge - DO NOT Wash or Glue!

I put the box in the attic, closed the door, and leapt away haughtily.

Some time later, I was oddly grimacing in the boiler room when I heard a sound resembling a ring-tailed lemur spraying a pumpkin. I sprinted to the door, where I saw Marla moving toward the attic, carrying a funny clothespin.

"Hello Marla," I said sourly. "What are you doing with that clothespin?"

Marla gave me a furry look. "I just happened to find it in the porch."

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

Marla stood gently. I could see her spinal cord was itching. "I am on my way to the rainforest," she replied testily.

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

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

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the clothespin, turned, and ran out of the boiler room. I sniffled, picked up the clothespin, and took it back to the attic.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before demolishing a clothespin," I thought to myself, as I scampered off to brush a hat.