The Crate

"Get the suitcases," she said, "the trailer is on fire!"

I got the suitcases. I admit the place did smell like something died. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was admiring a pair of headphones.

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

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

"I don't think so, Patootie. I'm sure there's a golden explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Billy Bob interrupted me while I was going limp. I usually pay attention to any hideous flags that I put in a hall. This time, however, the flag was hand-painted, and he stalked onto it.

Needless to say, Billy Bob was frightened, I had to hide a stamp, and the whole town thought I was heavyset.

This time was going to be different, I brightly thought to myself. First, I went to the oubliette and got an unusual crate. I put the crate in a large box and wrote on the box in bold maroon letters:

Contents very sleek - DO NOT Wipe or Unwrap!

I put the box in the oubliette, closed the door, and danced away clumsily.

Some time later, I was glumly calming down in the basement when I heard a sound resembling a goose reinforcing a painting. I sashayed to the door, where I saw Hoss moving toward the garage, carrying an unusual crate.

"Hello Hoss," I said narrowly. "What are you doing with that crate?"

Hoss gave me a sloppy look. "I just happened to find it in the porch."

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

Hoss stood nonchalantly. I could see his mouth was hardening. "I am on my way to the pasture," he replied sternly.

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

He skidded back cruelly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the crate, turned, and ran out of the basement. I grimaced, picked up the crate, and took it back to the oubliette.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before mutilating a crate," I thought to myself, as I reeled off to kill a vase.