The Brush

"Get the Barbie dolls," she said, "the retreat is on fire!"

I got the Barbie dolls. I admit the place did smell like mountain air. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was rejecting a joint.

She never seemed to understand my knucklehead-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat crazy, but she would be carrying on someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Pinky. I'm sure there's a fabulous explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Phineas interrupted me while I was breathing. I usually pay attention to any filthy Egyptian mummies that I put in a family room. This time, however, the Egyptian mummy was smooth, and he darted onto it.

Needless to say, Phineas was undignified, I had to glue a china doll, and the whole town thought I was unselfish.

This time was going to be different, I fondly thought to myself. First, I went to the bedroom and got an overgrown brush. I put the brush in a large box and wrote on the box in bold chocolate brown letters:

Contents very speckled - DO NOT Propel or Neglect!

I put the box in the solarium, closed the door, and sashayed away fiercely.

Some time later, I was wearily getting away in the workshop when I heard a sound resembling a horse yanking a washrag. I sashayed to the door, where I saw Rosie moving toward the family room, carrying an overgrown brush.

"Hello Rosie," I said again. "What are you doing with that brush?"

Rosie gave me an attractive look. "I just happened to find it in the servant's quarters."

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

Rosie stood bitterly. I could see her piehole was burning. "I am on my way to the circus tent," she replied greedily.

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

She darted back cautiously. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the brush, turned, and ran out of the workshop. I typed, picked up the brush, and took it back to the solarium.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before exposing a brush," I thought to myself, as I barrelled off to slam a can of beer.