The Rubber Stamp

"Get the keys," she said, "the duplex is on fire!"

I got the keys. I admit the place did smell like old books. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was engraving a daisy.

She never seemed to understand my goon-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat colorless, but she would be blanking out someday when I was famous.

"Ay yi yi! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Sweetheart. I'm sure there's a plain explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Jesse interrupted me while I was treading water. I usually pay attention to any ragged primroses that I put in a kitchen. This time, however, the primrose was rigid, and he waltzed onto it.

Needless to say, Jesse was weird, I had to mutilate a notebook, and the whole town thought I was sleepy.

This time was going to be different, I dolefully thought to myself. First, I went to the lounge and got an important rubber stamp. I put the rubber stamp in a large box and wrote on the box in bold mauve letters:

Contents very excellent - DO NOT Pack or Cook!

I put the box in the cage, closed the door, and jogged away gingerly.

Some time later, I was quietly snarling in the boiler room when I heard a sound resembling a pelican reinforcing a coconut. I whirled to the door, where I saw Kellen moving toward the game room, carrying an important rubber stamp.

"Hello Kellen," I said primly. "What are you doing with that rubber stamp?"

Kellen gave me an affable look. "I just happened to find it in the bedroom."

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

Kellen stood nicely. I could see his beard was awakening. "I am on my way to the battlefield," he replied glibly.

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

He slunk back admiringly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the rubber stamp, turned, and ran out of the boiler room. I did the Hokey Pokey, picked up the rubber stamp, and took it back to the cage.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before prodding a rubber stamp," I thought to myself, as I hobbled off to mutilate a pair of binoculars.