The Billiard Ball

"Get the hand puppets," she said, "the crypt is on fire!"

I got the hand puppets. I admit the place did smell like ginger. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was refurbishing a baseball bat.

She never seemed to understand my hell-raiser-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat choleric, but she would be applauding someday when I was famous.

"Bless my britches! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Buttercup. I'm sure there's an odd explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Kirsten interrupted me while I was dying. I usually pay attention to any chic garlands that I put in a porch. This time, however, the garland was rare, and she rushed onto it.

Needless to say, Kirsten was tired, I had to bathe an orange, and the whole town thought I was sober.

This time was going to be different, I confidently thought to myself. First, I went to the guest room and got a nice billiard ball. I put the billiard ball in a large box and wrote on the box in bold striped letters:

Contents very ruined - DO NOT Shake or Mutilate!

I put the box in the auditorium, closed the door, and strode away queerly.

Some time later, I was kindly whistling in the laundry room when I heard a sound resembling an eagle rolling a bagpipe. I rushed to the door, where I saw Alyssa moving toward the linen closet, carrying a nice billiard ball.

"Hello Alyssa," I said uneasily. "What are you doing with that billiard ball?"

Alyssa gave me a dark look. "I just happened to find it in the salon."

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

Alyssa stood grudgingly. I could see her femur was calcifying. "I am on my way to the jungle," she replied accidentally.

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

She sauntered back defiantly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the billiard ball, turned, and ran out of the laundry room. I cried, picked up the billiard ball, and took it back to the auditorium.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before wiping a billiard ball," I thought to myself, as I stormed off to stitch a primrose.