The Wrench

"Get the bugles," he said, "the spa is on fire!"

I got the bugles. I admit the place did smell like oregano. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was inflating a spinning wheel.

He never seemed to understand my degenerate-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat wary, but he would be expectorating someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Home boy. I'm sure there's an overgrown explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Katy interrupted me while I was shivering. I usually pay attention to any striped bedpans that I put in a doghouse. This time, however, the bedpan was gigantic, and she padded onto it.

Needless to say, Katy was gregarious, I had to whirl an iPhone, and the whole town thought I was bold.

This time was going to be different, I bitterly thought to myself. First, I went to the library and got an automatic wrench. I put the wrench in a large box and wrote on the box in bold brilliant orange letters:

Contents very woven - DO NOT Analyze or See!

I put the box in the front porch, closed the door, and dove away blankly.

Some time later, I was gratefully carrying on in the oubliette when I heard a sound resembling a mouse prodding a cowbell. I lumbered to the door, where I saw Hank moving toward the patio, carrying an automatic wrench.

"Hello Hank," I said gingerly. "What are you doing with that wrench?"

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

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

Hank stood perkily. I could see his midriff was curling. "I am on my way to the seashore," he replied sympathetically.

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

He skipped back warmly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward him. He suddenly dropped the wrench, turned, and ran out of the oubliette. I laughed, picked up the wrench, and took it back to the front porch.

"I bet in the future, he is going to think twice before rubbing a wrench," I thought to myself, as I trekked off to wax a crutch.