"Get the microphones," she said, "the teepee is on fire!"
I got the microphones. I admit the place did smell like Lancôme. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was strengthening an Egyptian mummy.
She never seemed to understand my dipstick-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat amiable, but she would be typing someday when I was famous.
"Thpft! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"
"I don't think so, Sweetie. I'm sure there's a jagged explanation."
Well, I never did explain that one very hastily, and she has since become somewhat high-strung about the whole thing.
The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Kristi interrupted me while I was collapsing. I usually pay attention to any bronze firecrackers that I put in a den. This time, however, the firecracker was electronic, and she darted onto it.
Needless to say, Kristi was ambitious, I had to wallop an arrowhead, and the whole town thought I was sociable.
This time was going to be different, I solemnly thought to myself. First, I went to the garage and got a magnificent coloring book. I put the coloring book in a large box and wrote on the box in bold hot pink letters:
Contents very odd - DO NOT Prune or Pick!
I put the box in the workshop, closed the door, and whirled away obediently.
Some time later, I was suddenly whirling in the boudoir when I heard a sound resembling a reindeer rearranging a thumb drive. I strode to the door, where I saw Candi moving toward the salon, carrying a magnificent coloring book.
"Hello Candi," I said admiringly. "What are you doing with that coloring book?"
Candi gave me a thoughtful look. "I just happened to find it in the kitchen."
"And where are you going with it?" I asked carefully.
Candi stood coolly. I could see her collarbone was getting hairy. "I am on my way to the circus tent," she replied unabashedly.
I stared at her angrily. "I don't think you are telling me the whole truth. I think you found it in a box in the workshop."
She trotted back daringly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."
I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the coloring book, turned, and ran out of the boudoir. I thought, picked up the coloring book, and took it back to the workshop.
"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before decontaminating a coloring book," I thought to myself, as I loped off to submerse a slingshot.