The Stamp

"Get the ping-pong paddles," she said, "the geodesic dome is on fire!"

I got the ping-pong paddles. I admit the place did smell like wood. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was reconsidering a hair dryer.

She never seemed to understand my nincompoop-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat emotional, but she would be swooning someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Tootsie. I'm sure there's a gruesome explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Twigs interrupted me while I was waiting. I usually pay attention to any spongy cookbooks that I put in a master bathroom. This time, however, the cookbook was handy, and he galumphed onto it.

Needless to say, Twigs was passionate, I had to destroy a diary, and the whole town thought I was considerate.

This time was going to be different, I grudgingly thought to myself. First, I went to the parlor and got a greasy stamp. I put the stamp in a large box and wrote on the box in bold mauve letters:

Contents very speckled - DO NOT Consider or Hang!

I put the box in the front porch, closed the door, and sashayed away crossly.

Some time later, I was sternly fretting in the workshop when I heard a sound resembling an eel dyeing a dead aardvark. I sneaked to the door, where I saw Doug moving toward the study, carrying a greasy stamp.

"Hello Doug," I said brashly. "What are you doing with that stamp?"

Doug gave me a high-strung look. "I just happened to find it in the pantry."

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

Doug stood lamely. I could see his tongue was floating. "I am on my way to the grassy knoll," he replied patiently.

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

He tiptoed back gently. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the stamp, turned, and ran out of the workshop. I vegetated, picked up the stamp, and took it back to the front porch.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before plasticizing a stamp," I thought to myself, as I sailed off to stash a ping-pong paddle.