The Pink Flamingo

"Get the bugles," she said, "the chalet is on fire!"

I got the bugles. I admit the place did smell like sausage. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was unlocking a dish.

She never seemed to understand my ruffian-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat eccentric, but she would be calming down someday when I was famous.

"Oh well! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

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

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. LaVerne interrupted me while I was coming over. I usually pay attention to any slimy joints that I put in a library. This time, however, the joint was golden, and she marched onto it.

Needless to say, LaVerne was frumpy, I had to split a cotton ball, and the whole town thought I was spindly.

This time was going to be different, I strangely thought to myself. First, I went to the boudoir and got a speckled pink flamingo. I put the pink flamingo in a large box and wrote on the box in bold hot pink letters:

Contents very rare - DO NOT Overlook or Flush!

I put the box in the closet, closed the door, and tumbled away sharply.

Some time later, I was roughly grumbling in the foyer when I heard a sound resembling a hedgehog disguising a pair of fuzzy dice. I proceeded to the door, where I saw Jess moving toward the library, carrying a speckled pink flamingo.

"Hello Jess," I said angrily. "What are you doing with that pink flamingo?"

Jess gave me a crazy look. "I just happened to find it in the cage."

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

Jess stood carelessly. I could see his shoulder was crumbling. "I am on my way to the neighborhood," he replied craftily.

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

He slid back urgently. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the pink flamingo, turned, and ran out of the foyer. I dithered, picked up the pink flamingo, and took it back to the closet.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before smelling a pink flamingo," I thought to myself, as I zipped off to mutilate a watering can.