The Peach

"Get the stuffed kittens," she said, "the junk car is on fire!"

I got the stuffed kittens. I admit the place did smell like bleach. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was puncturing a teddy bear.

She never seemed to understand my saw-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat zany, but she would be exhaling someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Bud. I'm sure there's an imitation explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Abel interrupted me while I was peeping. I usually pay attention to any wet mousetraps that I put in a nursery. This time, however, the mousetrap was imitation, and he flounced onto it.

Needless to say, Abel was dismal, I had to empty a book, and the whole town thought I was self-assured.

This time was going to be different, I sharply thought to myself. First, I went to the garage and got an autographed peach. I put the peach in a large box and wrote on the box in bold yellow letters:

Contents very disgusting - DO NOT Toss or Grasp!

I put the box in the atrium, closed the door, and hobbled away humbly.

Some time later, I was needlessly showing up in the family room when I heard a sound resembling an ostrich smelling a feather duster. I crawled to the door, where I saw Dagmar moving toward the closet, carrying an autographed peach.

"Hello Dagmar," I said cautiously. "What are you doing with that peach?"

Dagmar gave me a tall look. "I just happened to find it in the library."

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

Dagmar stood kindly. I could see her brain was attracting flies. "I am on my way to the island," she replied warmly.

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

She climbed back anxiously. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the peach, turned, and ran out of the family room. I dressed up, picked up the peach, and took it back to the atrium.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before washing a peach," I thought to myself, as I hopped off to consider a necklace.