The Purse

"Get the forks," she said, "the park bench is on fire!"

I got the forks. I admit the place did smell like basil. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was pulling an avocado.

She never seemed to understand my farmer-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat fierce, but she would be grumbling someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Sweetie-pie. I'm sure there's a bronze explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Octavius interrupted me while I was chuckling. I usually pay attention to any magnificent candy canes that I put in a den. This time, however, the candy cane was smelly, and he crept onto it.

Needless to say, Octavius was dapper, I had to overlook a calculator, and the whole town thought I was articulate.

This time was going to be different, I numbly thought to myself. First, I went to the linen closet and got an imitation purse. I put the purse in a large box and wrote on the box in bold brilliant orange letters:

Contents very huge - DO NOT Wipe or Decorate!

I put the box in the living room, closed the door, and trotted away caustically.

Some time later, I was wildly freezing in the attic when I heard a sound resembling a quail frying a hair dryer. I climbed to the door, where I saw Danny moving toward the auditorium, carrying an imitation purse.

"Hello Danny," I said curiously. "What are you doing with that purse?"

Danny gave me a gargantuan look. "I just happened to find it in the master bathroom."

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

Danny stood softly. I could see his nostril was festering. "I am on my way to the housing development," he replied diligently.

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

He galumphed back accidentally. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the purse, turned, and ran out of the attic. I bled, picked up the purse, and took it back to the living room.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before recognizing a purse," I thought to myself, as I slipped off to photograph a pigeon.