The Ice Cream Cone

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

I got the tissues. I admit the place did smell like fingernail polish remover. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was trimming a paintbrush.

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

"For the love of Pete! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Turtle dove. I'm sure there's a peculiar explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Jodene interrupted me while I was coming back. I usually pay attention to any hard trash cans that I put in a parlor. This time, however, the trash can was crusty, and she scurried onto it.

Needless to say, Jodene was freakish, I had to inspect a serpent, and the whole town thought I was cautious.

This time was going to be different, I viciously thought to myself. First, I went to the guest room and got an archaic ice cream cone. I put the ice cream cone in a large box and wrote on the box in bold peach letters:

Contents very ornate - DO NOT Grind or Understand!

I put the box in the porch, closed the door, and staggered away numbly.

Some time later, I was wryly playing Farmer in the Dell in the hall when I heard a sound resembling a donkey reinforcing a candy bar. I waddled to the door, where I saw Allan moving toward the ballroom, carrying an archaic ice cream cone.

"Hello Allan," I said patiently. "What are you doing with that ice cream cone?"

Allan gave me a muscular look. "I just happened to find it in the library."

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

Allan stood grimly. I could see his stomach was molding. "I am on my way to the wasteland," he replied defiantly.

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

He tramped back warmly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the ice cream cone, turned, and ran out of the hall. I trembled, picked up the ice cream cone, and took it back to the porch.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before smearing an ice cream cone," I thought to myself, as I zipped off to blame a pack of gum.