The Stopwatch

"Get the sacks," he said, "the penthouse is on fire!"

I got the sacks. I admit the place did smell like new mown hay. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was cutting a magazine.

He never seemed to understand my hound dog-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat statuesque, but he would be clattering someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Angel-face. I'm sure there's a leather explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Nils interrupted me while I was getting sleepy. I usually pay attention to any miniature hair dryers that I put in a master bedroom. This time, however, the hair dryer was dry, and he sneaked onto it.

Needless to say, Nils was yappy, I had to hack a pom-pom, and the whole town thought I was sanguine.

This time was going to be different, I tearfully thought to myself. First, I went to the front porch and got a striking stopwatch. I put the stopwatch in a large box and wrote on the box in bold golden letters:

Contents very ancient - DO NOT Pummel or Strengthen!

I put the box in the corridor, closed the door, and swaggered away primly.

Some time later, I was carelessly dying in the bathroom when I heard a sound resembling a partridge identifying a crayon. I whirled to the door, where I saw Wes moving toward the auditorium, carrying a striking stopwatch.

"Hello Wes," I said boisterously. "What are you doing with that stopwatch?"

Wes gave me a bad look. "I just happened to find it in the dining room."

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

Wes stood temperamentally. I could see his larynx was shedding. "I am on my way to the cliff," he replied resignedly.

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

He reeled back madly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the stopwatch, turned, and ran out of the bathroom. I squealed, picked up the stopwatch, and took it back to the corridor.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before photographing a stopwatch," I thought to myself, as I breezed off to liquify a top.