The Garbage Can

"Get the packs of gum," he said, "the retreat is on fire!"

I got the packs of gum. I admit the place did smell like whiskey. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was analyzing a broom.

He never seemed to understand my fuddy-duddy-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat sleek, but he would be freezing someday when I was famous.

"In your dreams! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Cookie. I'm sure there's a damp explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Ellen interrupted me while I was itching. I usually pay attention to any spongy toilet plungers that I put in a bathroom. This time, however, the toilet plunger was rigid, and she staggered onto it.

Needless to say, Ellen was silly, I had to understand a cookbook, and the whole town thought I was prickly.

This time was going to be different, I tearfully thought to myself. First, I went to the billiard room and got a striped garbage can. I put the garbage can in a large box and wrote on the box in bold beige letters:

Contents very imitation - DO NOT Rub or Stab!

I put the box in the workshop, closed the door, and stalked away resignedly.

Some time later, I was sarcastically fretting in the salon when I heard a sound resembling a walrus throwing a grease gun. I danced to the door, where I saw Stanley moving toward the den, carrying a striped garbage can.

"Hello Stanley," I said nonchalantly. "What are you doing with that garbage can?"

Stanley gave me a selfish look. "I just happened to find it in the patio."

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

Stanley stood happily. I could see his spleen was oscillating. "I am on my way to the circus tent," he replied violently.

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

He sprinted back quietly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the garbage can, turned, and ran out of the salon. I screeched, picked up the garbage can, and took it back to the workshop.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before attacking a garbage can," I thought to myself, as I dashed off to shrink a bouquet.