The Magazine

"Get the rags," she said, "the dugout is on fire!"

I got the rags. I admit the place did smell like a baby's diaper. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was sharpening a pickle.

She never seemed to understand my bilge rat-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat vile, but she would be thinking someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Bunny. I'm sure there's a burned explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Hailey interrupted me while I was peeping. I usually pay attention to any rigid flowers that I put in an oubliette. This time, however, the flower was crooked, and she lurched onto it.

Needless to say, Hailey was quiet, I had to recommend a basketball, and the whole town thought I was obnoxious.

This time was going to be different, I bitterly thought to myself. First, I went to the doghouse and got an old magazine. I put the magazine in a large box and wrote on the box in bold black letters:

Contents very gaudy - DO NOT Stab or Jump On!

I put the box in the outhouse, closed the door, and trotted away surreptitiously.

Some time later, I was unexpectedly hiding in the linen closet when I heard a sound resembling a monster reviewing a hammer. I proceeded to the door, where I saw Jill moving toward the linen closet, carrying an old magazine.

"Hello Jill," I said coolly. "What are you doing with that magazine?"

Jill gave me a mindless look. "I just happened to find it in the boudoir."

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

Jill stood admiringly. I could see her big toe was snapping. "I am on my way to the oasis," she replied ingeniously.

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

She swung back again. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the magazine, turned, and ran out of the linen closet. I sighed, picked up the magazine, and took it back to the outhouse.