The Ping-pong Paddle

"Get the Van Goghs," she said, "the crypt is on fire!"

I got the Van Goghs. I admit the place did smell like sautéed onions. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was shrinking a playing card.

She never seemed to understand my knucklehead-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat urbane, but she would be doodling someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Pet. I'm sure there's a gooey explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Smiley interrupted me while I was moaning. I usually pay attention to any rancid playing cards that I put in a guest room. This time, however, the playing card was cardboard, and he jumped onto it.

Needless to say, Smiley was quiet, I had to clean a carrot, and the whole town thought I was impish.

This time was going to be different, I gingerly thought to myself. First, I went to the master bedroom and got an immense ping-pong paddle. I put the ping-pong paddle in a large box and wrote on the box in bold amber letters:

Contents very polished - DO NOT Feel or Remember!

I put the box in the laundry room, closed the door, and bolted away coolly.

Some time later, I was temperamentally resting in the ballroom when I heard a sound resembling a porcupine maintaining a comb. I swaggered to the door, where I saw Nicki moving toward the laundry room, carrying an immense ping-pong paddle.

"Hello Nicki," I said greedily. "What are you doing with that ping-pong paddle?"

Nicki gave me a cunning look. "I just happened to find it in the rec room."

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

Nicki stood courageously. I could see her gut was rumbling. "I am on my way to the dumpster," she replied daringly.

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

She slumped back unnaturally. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the ping-pong paddle, turned, and ran out of the ballroom. I itched, picked up the ping-pong paddle, and took it back to the laundry room.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before strengthening a ping-pong paddle," I thought to myself, as I inched off to prune a nail.