The Orange

"Get the blank checks," he said, "the loft is on fire!"

I got the blank checks. I admit the place did smell like beef stew. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was frying a garbage can.

He never seemed to understand my hooligan-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat somber, but he would be cheering someday when I was famous.

"Durn it! Get out! The whole place is going to blow!"

"I don't think so, Princess. I'm sure there's a wooden explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Quint interrupted me while I was lying around in bed. I usually pay attention to any art deco salt shakers that I put in a patio. This time, however, the salt shaker was hand-made, and he crawled onto it.

Needless to say, Quint was awkward, I had to feel a thumb drive, and the whole town thought I was exuberant.

This time was going to be different, I deliberately thought to myself. First, I went to the boudoir and got a brittle orange. I put the orange in a large box and wrote on the box in bold striped letters:

Contents very luxurious - DO NOT Unlock or Overlook!

I put the box in the outhouse, closed the door, and clambered away fearlessly.

Some time later, I was cruelly leering in the kitchen when I heard a sound resembling a dragon clamping an acorn. I barrelled to the door, where I saw Shawna moving toward the oubliette, carrying a brittle orange.

"Hello Shawna," I said boldly. "What are you doing with that orange?"

Shawna gave me an undignified look. "I just happened to find it in the master bedroom."

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

Shawna stood crankily. I could see her pride was rumbling. "I am on my way to the desert," she replied primly.

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

She struggled back greedily. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the orange, turned, and ran out of the kitchen. I paused, picked up the orange, and took it back to the outhouse.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before beating an orange," I thought to myself, as I tumbled off to re-evaluate a magnifying glass.