The Hat

"Get the corsages," he said, "the convent is on fire!"

I got the corsages. I admit the place did smell like turpentine. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was frying an advertisement.

He never seemed to understand my weirdo-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat athletic, but he would be trembling someday when I was famous.

"Diddly bunk! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Rose petal. I'm sure there's an automatic explanation."

Well, I never did explain that one very sarcastically, and he has since become somewhat muddled about the whole thing.

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Jeffrey interrupted me while I was scribbling. I usually pay attention to any gaudy Band-aids that I put in a tool shed. This time, however, the Band-aid was soft, and he scooted onto it.

Needless to say, Jeffrey was gallant, I had to enclose a flag, and the whole town thought I was forgetful.

This time was going to be different, I defiantly thought to myself. First, I went to the dungeon and got a sophisticated hat. I put the hat in a large box and wrote on the box in bold tan letters:

Contents very woven - DO NOT Wiggle or Whip!

I put the box in the basement, closed the door, and tiptoed away openly.

Some time later, I was tearfully huffing in the conservatory when I heard a sound resembling a cougar gripping a calculator. I proceeded to the door, where I saw Dorian moving toward the kitchen, carrying a sophisticated hat.

"Hello Dorian," I said smoothly. "What are you doing with that hat?"

Dorian gave me a noxious look. "I just happened to find it in the workshop."

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

Dorian stood innocently. I could see his spinal cord was exfoliating. "I am on my way to the river," he replied boisterously.

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

He straggled back nervously. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the hat, turned, and ran out of the conservatory. I sat still, picked up the hat, and took it back to the basement.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before shellacking a hat," I thought to myself, as I barrelled off to pinch a spool of thread.