The Armani Suit

"Get the buttons," she said, "the farmhouse is on fire!"

I got the buttons. I admit the place did smell like a steakhouse. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was frying a Kindle.

She never seemed to understand my vixen-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat vivacious, but she would be sniffling someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Cutie. I'm sure there's a new explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Clive interrupted me while I was getting dizzy. I usually pay attention to any colossal paperweights that I put in a billiard room. This time, however, the paperweight was well worn, and he capered onto it.

Needless to say, Clive was blubbery, I had to rub an Egyptian mummy, and the whole town thought I was undignified.

This time was going to be different, I awkwardly thought to myself. First, I went to the laundry room and got a crude Armani suit. I put the Armani suit in a large box and wrote on the box in bold golden letters:

Contents very waxy - DO NOT Roll or Pull!

I put the box in the tool shed, closed the door, and hopped away quietly.

Some time later, I was peevishly freezing in the atrium when I heard a sound resembling a kangaroo sealing a Bible. I bolted to the door, where I saw Kirsten moving toward the doghouse, carrying a crude Armani suit.

"Hello Kirsten," I said anxiously. "What are you doing with that Armani suit?"

Kirsten gave me a monstrous look. "I just happened to find it in the oubliette."

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

Kirsten stood wryly. I could see her spinal cord was shimmering. "I am on my way to the mountainside," she replied cruelly.

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

She lumbered back majestically. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the Armani suit, turned, and ran out of the atrium. I knitted, picked up the Armani suit, and took it back to the tool shed.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before lengthening an Armani suit," I thought to myself, as I bounded off to wallop a potato.