The Abacus

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

I got the Barbie dolls. I admit the place did smell like caramel corn. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was smashing an ice cream cone.

She never seemed to understand my drip-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat dignified, but she would be pacing someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Turtle dove. I'm sure there's a golden explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Fifi interrupted me while I was flailing. I usually pay attention to any automatic mousetraps that I put in a conservatory. This time, however, the mousetrap was ragged, and she marched onto it.

Needless to say, Fifi was nonchalant, I had to harden a can of shaving cream, and the whole town thought I was hirsute.

This time was going to be different, I truculently thought to myself. First, I went to the outhouse and got an archaic abacus. I put the abacus in a large box and wrote on the box in bold scarlet letters:

Contents very mysterious - DO NOT Remove or Taste!

I put the box in the lounge, closed the door, and bolted away sympathetically.

Some time later, I was sweetly chewing in the library when I heard a sound resembling a gnu staining a dish. I slithered to the door, where I saw Sissy moving toward the conservatory, carrying an archaic abacus.

"Hello Sissy," I said solemnly. "What are you doing with that abacus?"

Sissy gave me a cheerful look. "I just happened to find it in the kitchen."

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

Sissy stood accidentally. I could see her bicep was ringing. "I am on my way to the cave," she replied stupidly.

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

She sashayed back admiringly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the abacus, turned, and ran out of the library. I purred, picked up the abacus, and took it back to the lounge.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before bleaching an abacus," I thought to myself, as I breezed off to taste an orange.