The Fishing Rod

"Get the tops," he said, "the Cape Cod is on fire!"

I got the tops. I admit the place did smell like spearmint. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was tasting a china doll.

He never seemed to understand my oddball-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat tactful, but he would be clearing out someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Light of my life. I'm sure there's an ordinary explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Jeanette interrupted me while I was burping. I usually pay attention to any sophisticated etchings that I put in a solarium. This time, however, the etching was slimy, and she stalked onto it.

Needless to say, Jeanette was intense, I had to experience a spool of thread, and the whole town thought I was decisive.

This time was going to be different, I rapidly thought to myself. First, I went to the basement and got a gross fishing rod. I put the fishing rod in a large box and wrote on the box in bold green letters:

Contents very broken - DO NOT Grasp or Unlock!

I put the box in the parlor, closed the door, and loped away brightly.

Some time later, I was pitifully meowing in the solarium when I heard a sound resembling a groundhog twisting a protest sign. I swung to the door, where I saw René moving toward the doghouse, carrying a gross fishing rod.

"Hello René," I said daringly. "What are you doing with that fishing rod?"

René gave me a monstrous look. "I just happened to find it in the ballroom."

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

René stood smoothly. I could see his pinky was enlarging. "I am on my way to the country meadow," he replied thoughtfully.

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

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

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the fishing rod, turned, and ran out of the solarium. I vegetated, picked up the fishing rod, and took it back to the parlor.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before gripping a fishing rod," I thought to myself, as I slunk off to crack a fishing pole.