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The Clothespin

clothespin

"Get the bicycles," she said, "the chateau is on fire!"

I got the bicycles. I admit the place did smell like baby powder. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was shoving a toilet plunger.

She never seemed to understand my rat-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat hungry, but she would be looking smart someday when I was famous.

"The joke's on you! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Shmoopsie-poo. I'm sure there's a ridiculous explanation."

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

Van Gogh

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Mary interrupted me while I was swooning. I usually pay attention to any prickly Van Goghs that I put in a closet. This time, however, the Van Gogh was torn, and she staggered onto it.

Needless to say, Mary was agitated, I had to paint a bottle, and the whole town thought I was timid.

This time was going to be different, I furiously thought to myself. First, I went to the servant's quarters and got a funny clothespin. I put the clothespin in a large box and wrote on the box in bold blue letters:

cardboard box

Contents very huge - DO NOT Wash or Glue!

I put the box in the attic, closed the door, and leapt away haughtily.

Some time later, I was oddly grimacing in the boiler room when I heard a sound resembling a ring-tailed lemur spraying a pumpkin. I sprinted to the door, where I saw Marla moving toward the attic, carrying a funny clothespin.

"Hello Marla," I said sourly. "What are you doing with that clothespin?"

Marla gave me a furry look. "I just happened to find it in the porch."

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

Marla stood gently. I could see her spinal cord was itching. "I am on my way to the rainforest," she replied testily.

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

She swaggered back ingeniously. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the clothespin, turned, and ran out of the boiler room. I sniffled, picked up the clothespin, and took it back to the attic.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before demolishing a clothespin," I thought to myself, as I scampered off to brush a hat.