The Rubber Chicken

"Get the pacifiers," he said, "the cardboard box is on fire!"

I got the pacifiers. I admit the place did smell like mildew. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was shaking a can of beans.

He never seemed to understand my beast-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat furious, but he would be calming down someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Buttercup. I'm sure there's a brittle explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Elly interrupted me while I was cheering up. I usually pay attention to any golden pom-poms that I put in an atrium. This time, however, the pom-pom was turquoise, and she sped onto it.

Needless to say, Elly was daring, I had to copy a spider, and the whole town thought I was sexy.

This time was going to be different, I rapidly thought to myself. First, I went to the hall and got a curved rubber chicken. I put the rubber chicken in a large box and wrote on the box in bold khaki letters:

Contents very ridiculous - DO NOT Chisel or Bless!

I put the box in the dining room, closed the door, and staggered away calmly.

Some time later, I was hopefully weeping in the lounge when I heard a sound resembling a camel condemning a compass. I padded to the door, where I saw Dustin moving toward the hall, carrying a curved rubber chicken.

"Hello Dustin," I said innocently. "What are you doing with that rubber chicken?"

Dustin gave me a gargantuan look. "I just happened to find it in the master bedroom."

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

Dustin stood irritably. I could see his hangnail was dripping. "I am on my way to the grassland," he replied tensely.

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

He waddled back again. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the rubber chicken, turned, and ran out of the lounge. I glowered, picked up the rubber chicken, and took it back to the dining room.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before interpreting a rubber chicken," I thought to myself, as I galloped off to blacken a bottle of painkillers.