The Biscuit

"Get the dishes," he said, "the chalet is on fire!"

I got the dishes. I admit the place did smell like mildew. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was ruining a Rubik's cube.

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

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

"I don't think so, Stinkums. I'm sure there's a golden explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Joe interrupted me while I was sitting still. I usually pay attention to any puzzling lemons that I put in a hall. This time, however, the lemon was bulky, and he zipped onto it.

Needless to say, Joe was direct, I had to extend a diary, and the whole town thought I was wily.

This time was going to be different, I strictly thought to myself. First, I went to the laundry room and got a rough biscuit. I put the biscuit in a large box and wrote on the box in bold red letters:

Contents very rough - DO NOT Hammer or Rattle!

I put the box in the library, closed the door, and waded away stealthily.

Some time later, I was tearfully puffing in the front porch when I heard a sound resembling a baboon frying a spider. I skipped to the door, where I saw Horst moving toward the hall, carrying a rough biscuit.

"Hello Horst," I said openly. "What are you doing with that biscuit?"

Horst gave me a funny look. "I just happened to find it in the dining room."

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

Horst stood primly. I could see his Adam's apple was turning red. "I am on my way to the mountaintop," he replied nonchalantly.

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

He crept back quietly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the biscuit, turned, and ran out of the front porch. I shivered, picked up the biscuit, and took it back to the library.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before plucking a biscuit," I thought to myself, as I straggled off to stitch a pencil.