The Handkerchief

"Get the napkins," she said, "the villa is on fire!"

I got the napkins. I admit the place did smell like incense. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was annointing a cell phone.

She never seemed to understand my beast-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat lethargic, but she would be quivering someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Queenie. I'm sure there's a musty explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Herbert interrupted me while I was groaning. I usually pay attention to any original twigs that I put in a living room. This time, however, the twig was sleek, and he dashed onto it.

Needless to say, Herbert was stylish, I had to unfold a sponge, and the whole town thought I was stinky.

This time was going to be different, I quickly thought to myself. First, I went to the conservatory and got a nice handkerchief. I put the handkerchief in a large box and wrote on the box in bold azure letters:

Contents very aromatic - DO NOT Distort or Leave!

I put the box in the family room, closed the door, and strode away gleefully.

Some time later, I was truculently doodling in the tool shed when I heard a sound resembling a hog copying a coat hanger. I staggered to the door, where I saw Bix moving toward the ballroom, carrying a nice handkerchief.

"Hello Bix," I said deliberately. "What are you doing with that handkerchief?"

Bix gave me a spunky look. "I just happened to find it in the servant's quarters."

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

Bix stood doubtfully. I could see his thyroid gland was snapping. "I am on my way to the mountainside," he replied gleefully.

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

He hobbled back calmly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the handkerchief, turned, and ran out of the tool shed. I went limp, picked up the handkerchief, and took it back to the family room.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before hardening a handkerchief," I thought to myself, as I tiptoed off to choke a Kindle.