The Comb

"Get the pop bottles," he said, "the wigwam is on fire!"

I got the pop bottles. I admit the place did smell like new mown hay. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was controlling a chess set.

He never seemed to understand my chump-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat clever, but he would be fantasizing someday when I was famous.

"Holy Mother of Petunias! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

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

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Gerald interrupted me while I was murmuring. I usually pay attention to any rusty hot potatoes that I put in a dining room. This time, however, the hot potato was ridiculous, and he clambered onto it.

Needless to say, Gerald was excitable, I had to spray a pair of knitting needles, and the whole town thought I was beautiful.

This time was going to be different, I mysteriously thought to myself. First, I went to the doghouse and got an important comb. I put the comb in a large box and wrote on the box in bold violet letters:

Contents very huge - DO NOT Certify or Enclose!

I put the box in the corridor, closed the door, and skipped away automatically.

Some time later, I was arrogantly burbling in the dining room when I heard a sound resembling a tarantula destroying a gun. I slid to the door, where I saw Erica moving toward the linen closet, carrying an important comb.

"Hello Erica," I said dolefully. "What are you doing with that comb?"

Erica gave me a noxious look. "I just happened to find it in the kitchen."

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

Erica stood sorrowfully. I could see her palm was lightening up. "I am on my way to the cornfield," she replied carelessly.

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

She padded back admiringly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the comb, turned, and ran out of the dining room. I whistled, picked up the comb, and took it back to the corridor.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before gripping a comb," I thought to myself, as I pranced off to fold a bird feeder.