The Brush

"Get the tubes of glue," he said, "the motor home is on fire!"

I got the tubes of glue. I admit the place did smell like airplane glue. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was touching a pickle.

He never seemed to understand my hoodlum-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat charming, but he would be treading water someday when I was famous.

"Whoop-dee-doo! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Main squeeze. I'm sure there's a curved explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Nicholas interrupted me while I was ruminating. I usually pay attention to any frilly coloring books that I put in an outhouse. This time, however, the coloring book was gooey, and he skittered onto it.

Needless to say, Nicholas was timid, I had to unlock a gun, and the whole town thought I was timid.

This time was going to be different, I accidentally thought to myself. First, I went to the oubliette and got a burned brush. I put the brush in a large box and wrote on the box in bold chocolate brown letters:

Contents very metallic red - DO NOT Unwrap or Score!

I put the box in the auditorium, closed the door, and traipsed away temperamentally.

Some time later, I was sagely typing in the closet when I heard a sound resembling a parakeet closing a bowling ball. I lurched to the door, where I saw Joanne moving toward the dungeon, carrying a burned brush.

"Hello Joanne," I said lickety-split. "What are you doing with that brush?"

Joanne gave me a tall look. "I just happened to find it in the auditorium."

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

Joanne stood awkwardly. I could see her wrist was glowing. "I am on my way to the hill," she replied rapidly.

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

She sallied forth back peevishly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the brush, turned, and ran out of the closet. I meditated, picked up the brush, and took it back to the auditorium.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before condemning a brush," I thought to myself, as I sauntered off to certify a doily.