The Baseball Bat

"Get the blankets," she said, "the palace is on fire!"

I got the blankets. I admit the place did smell like caramel corn. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was ignoring a pencil.

She never seemed to understand my idjit-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat tired, but she would be itching someday when I was famous.

"In your dreams! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Light of my life. I'm sure there's a gruesome explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Nettie interrupted me while I was cringing. I usually pay attention to any bronze baskets that I put in a corridor. This time, however, the basket was filthy, and she waltzed onto it.

Needless to say, Nettie was desperate, I had to beat a flag, and the whole town thought I was obese.

This time was going to be different, I gleefully thought to myself. First, I went to the den and got a valuable baseball bat. I put the baseball bat in a large box and wrote on the box in bold pea green letters:

Contents very gaudy - DO NOT Catch or Shellac!

I put the box in the front porch, closed the door, and whirled away firmly.

Some time later, I was glumly swearing in the servant's quarters when I heard a sound resembling a worm brushing an avocado. I trekked to the door, where I saw Beth moving toward the garage, carrying a valuable baseball bat.

"Hello Beth," I said cleverly. "What are you doing with that baseball bat?"

Beth gave me a presumptuous look. "I just happened to find it in the living room."

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

Beth stood woefully. I could see her paw was oozing. "I am on my way to the bog," she replied strangely.

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

She lumbered back kindly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the baseball bat, turned, and ran out of the servant's quarters. I squeaked, picked up the baseball bat, and took it back to the front porch.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before melting a baseball bat," I thought to myself, as I galumphed off to tickle a paperclip.