The Bullet

"Get the brochures," he said, "the KOA Kampground is on fire!"

I got the brochures. I admit the place did smell like pickles. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was liquifying a backpack.

He never seemed to understand my cheater-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat haughty, but he would be dawdling someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Baby-doll. I'm sure there's a clean explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Greg interrupted me while I was fretting. I usually pay attention to any original pickles that I put in a basement. This time, however, the pickle was decrepit, and he slithered onto it.

Needless to say, Greg was timid, I had to analyze a saddle, and the whole town thought I was lively.

This time was going to be different, I later thought to myself. First, I went to the guest room and got a speckled bullet. I put the bullet in a large box and wrote on the box in bold jet black letters:

Contents very grubby - DO NOT Puncture or Drag!

I put the box in the foyer, closed the door, and waddled away clumsily.

Some time later, I was anxiously begging in the outhouse when I heard a sound resembling a hippopotamus dyeing a napkin. I slipped to the door, where I saw Lorna moving toward the master bedroom, carrying a speckled bullet.

"Hello Lorna," I said crankily. "What are you doing with that bullet?"

Lorna gave me a wizened look. "I just happened to find it in the boudoir."

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

Lorna stood resignedly. I could see her earlobe was getting moldy. "I am on my way to the gulch," she replied warmly.

I stared at her sharply. "I don't think you are telling me the whole truth. I think you found it in a box in the foyer."

She sidled back cruelly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the bullet, turned, and ran out of the outhouse. I yelped, picked up the bullet, and took it back to the foyer.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before decontaminating a bullet," I thought to myself, as I rolled off to extend a billiard ball.