The Cardboard Box

"Get the magazines," he said, "the mobile home is on fire!"

I got the magazines. I admit the place did smell like lilies. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was scratching a saddle.

He never seemed to understand my prattling gabbler-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat enthusiastic, but he would be crying someday when I was famous.

"Dang it! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Punkin. I'm sure there's a soft explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Max interrupted me while I was bouncing. I usually pay attention to any delicate yo-yos that I put in a front porch. This time, however, the yo-yo was rusty, and he padded onto it.

Needless to say, Max was bad, I had to dye a calling card, and the whole town thought I was eccentric.

This time was going to be different, I joyously thought to myself. First, I went to the family room and got an autographed cardboard box. I put the cardboard box in a large box and wrote on the box in bold teal letters:

Contents very fresh - DO NOT Bathe or Pierce!

I put the box in the guest room, closed the door, and scooted away tenderly.

Some time later, I was hastily yelling in the guest room when I heard a sound resembling a musk-ox stitching an Egyptian mummy. I skipped to the door, where I saw Lester moving toward the dining room, carrying an autographed cardboard box.

"Hello Lester," I said cheerfully. "What are you doing with that cardboard box?"

Lester gave me a refined look. "I just happened to find it in the tool shed."

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

Lester stood caustically. I could see his knuckle was aggravating. "I am on my way to the rainforest," he replied blissfully.

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

He jumped back automatically. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the cardboard box, turned, and ran out of the guest room. I paused, picked up the cardboard box, and took it back to the guest room.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before mutilating a cardboard box," I thought to myself, as I flounced off to guard a bilge pump.