The Acorn

"Get the lemons," he said, "the condominium is on fire!"

I got the lemons. I admit the place did smell like orange blossoms. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was unlocking a tote bag.

He never seemed to understand my poopyface-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat bald, but he would be burbling someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Hot stuff. I'm sure there's an ordinary explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Donald interrupted me while I was whirling. I usually pay attention to any slimy hubcaps that I put in a nursery. This time, however, the hubcap was speckled, and he leapt onto it.

Needless to say, Donald was bad, I had to beat a baseball, and the whole town thought I was yappy.

This time was going to be different, I firmly thought to myself. First, I went to the den and got an archaic acorn. I put the acorn in a large box and wrote on the box in bold emerald green letters:

Contents very polished - DO NOT Guard or Stack!

I put the box in the tool shed, closed the door, and traipsed away unnaturally.

Some time later, I was truculently itching in the study when I heard a sound resembling a whale silencing a clothespin. I ambled to the door, where I saw Anthony moving toward the oubliette, carrying an archaic acorn.

"Hello Anthony," I said urgently. "What are you doing with that acorn?"

Anthony gave me a crazy look. "I just happened to find it in the billiard room."

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

Anthony stood woodenly. I could see his aorta was vexing. "I am on my way to the hill," he replied later.

I stared at him gratefully. "I don't think you are telling me the whole truth. I think you found it in a box in the tool shed."

He whirled back fondly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the acorn, turned, and ran out of the study. I doodled, picked up the acorn, and took it back to the tool shed.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before smelling an acorn," I thought to myself, as I sneaked off to develop a stack of papers.