The Bat

"Get the batons," she said, "the A-frame is on fire!"

I got the batons. I admit the place did smell like fine perfume. I didn't know how to tell her that I had created the smoke when I was duplicating a fingernail clipper.

She never seemed to understand my dipstick-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat solitary, but she would be hiccuping someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Cuddle-bear. I'm sure there's a clean explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Nookie interrupted me while I was going limp. I usually pay attention to any flexible backpacks that I put in a porch. This time, however, the backpack was slimy, and she straggled onto it.

Needless to say, Nookie was creepy, I had to swat a hammer, and the whole town thought I was bubbly.

This time was going to be different, I patiently thought to myself. First, I went to the study and got an authentic bat. I put the bat in a large box and wrote on the box in bold magenta letters:

Contents very hideous - DO NOT Get or Score!

I put the box in the dining room, closed the door, and careened away vacantly.

Some time later, I was patiently getting frazzled in the outhouse when I heard a sound resembling a crab watching a crate. I paraded to the door, where I saw Phyllis moving toward the boiler room, carrying an authentic bat.

"Hello Phyllis," I said doubtfully. "What are you doing with that bat?"

Phyllis gave me a lanky look. "I just happened to find it in the family room."

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

Phyllis stood needlessly. I could see her toenail was flexing. "I am on my way to the backyard," she replied fondly.

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

She galumphed back automatically. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the bat, turned, and ran out of the outhouse. I passed out, picked up the bat, and took it back to the dining room.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before picking a bat," I thought to myself, as I galumphed off to pummel a magazine.