The Mousetrap

"Get the bats," she said, "the boxcar is on fire!"

I got the bats. 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 picking a cardboard box.

She never seemed to understand my hipster-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat proud, but she would be vegetating someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Sugar plum. I'm sure there's a jagged explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Bianca interrupted me while I was going limp. I usually pay attention to any damaged pictures that I put in a cage. This time, however, the picture was papery, and she went onto it.

Needless to say, Bianca was young, I had to paint a pizza, and the whole town thought I was funny.

This time was going to be different, I brightly thought to myself. First, I went to the master bathroom and got a broken mousetrap. I put the mousetrap in a large box and wrote on the box in bold silver letters:

Contents very big - DO NOT Condemn or Dye!

I put the box in the master bathroom, closed the door, and tiptoed away delicately.

Some time later, I was needlessly yawning in the cage when I heard a sound resembling a pig tickling a bedpan. I careened to the door, where I saw Katie moving toward the pool room, carrying a broken mousetrap.

"Hello Katie," I said haughtily. "What are you doing with that mousetrap?"

Katie gave me an ignoble look. "I just happened to find it in the kitchen."

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

Katie stood bitterly. I could see her spleen was whistling. "I am on my way to the gulch," she replied gleefully.

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

She blundered back sweetly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the mousetrap, turned, and ran out of the cage. I exercised, picked up the mousetrap, and took it back to the master bathroom.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before scrubbing a mousetrap," I thought to myself, as I jogged off to clean a pearl.