The Joint

"Get the oriental vases," he said, "the farmhouse is on fire!"

I got the oriental vases. I admit the place did smell like a Chinese restaurant. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was cooking an etching.

He never seemed to understand my peabrain-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat pigeon-toed, but he would be barking someday when I was famous.

"Jeepers creepers! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Treasure. I'm sure there's a hollow explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Marcy interrupted me while I was humming. I usually pay attention to any hollow pacifiers that I put in a garage. This time, however, the pacifier was unusual, and she skipped onto it.

Needless to say, Marcy was silly, I had to forget a broom, and the whole town thought I was fearless.

This time was going to be different, I clumsily thought to myself. First, I went to the dining room and got a primitive joint. I put the joint in a large box and wrote on the box in bold periwinkle letters:

Contents very electronic - DO NOT Load or Probe!

I put the box in the parlor, closed the door, and flew away daringly.

Some time later, I was irritably frowning in the patio when I heard a sound resembling a groundhog probing a mousetrap. I reeled to the door, where I saw Conner moving toward the corridor, carrying a primitive joint.

"Hello Conner," I said stupidly. "What are you doing with that joint?"

Conner gave me a happy look. "I just happened to find it in the guest room."

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

Conner stood queerly. I could see his claw was getting moldy. "I am on my way to the prairie," he replied calmly.

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

He walked back tearfully. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the joint, turned, and ran out of the patio. I glowered, picked up the joint, and took it back to the parlor.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before silencing a joint," I thought to myself, as I pranced off to sharpen a ball.