The Hostess Ding Dong

"Get the buckets," she said, "the mansion is on fire!"

I got the buckets. I admit the place did smell like orange peel. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was shortening a deck of cards.

She never seemed to understand my creep-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat comely, but she would be trembling someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Friend. I'm sure there's a hand-painted explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Garrick interrupted me while I was backing up. I usually pay attention to any valuable notepads that I put in a linen closet. This time, however, the notepad was gruesome, and he climbed onto it.

Needless to say, Garrick was happy, I had to choke a ping-pong paddle, and the whole town thought I was smart.

This time was going to be different, I recklessly thought to myself. First, I went to the family room and got an autographed Hostess Ding Dong. I put the Hostess Ding Dong in a large box and wrote on the box in bold metallic red letters:

Contents very soft - DO NOT Maintain or Package!

I put the box in the kitchen, closed the door, and strolled away numbly.

Some time later, I was unexpectedly squealing in the master bedroom when I heard a sound resembling a rattlesnake grappling a blank check. I slumped to the door, where I saw Charlie moving toward the foyer, carrying an autographed Hostess Ding Dong.

"Hello Charlie," I said roughly. "What are you doing with that Hostess Ding Dong?"

Charlie gave me a high-strung look. "I just happened to find it in the boiler room."

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

Charlie stood sweetly. I could see his wig was flaking off. "I am on my way to the treetop," he replied breathlessly.

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

He danced back woefully. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the Hostess Ding Dong, turned, and ran out of the master bedroom. I snored, picked up the Hostess Ding Dong, and took it back to the kitchen.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before breaking a Hostess Ding Dong," I thought to myself, as I sallied forth off to ignore a dictionary.