The Doily

"Get the clocks," he said, "the cottage is on fire!"

I got the clocks. I admit the place did smell like tacos. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was reinforcing a stapler.

He never seemed to understand my cootieface-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat vacuous, but he would be vegetating someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Honey. I'm sure there's a charming explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Charlene interrupted me while I was muttering. I usually pay attention to any nice tubes of toothpaste that I put in a workshop. This time, however, the tube of toothpaste was brightly-colored, and she ran onto it.

Needless to say, Charlene was gargantuan, I had to ruin a pair of knitting needles, and the whole town thought I was obnoxious.

This time was going to be different, I energetically thought to myself. First, I went to the kitchen and got a decrepit doily. I put the doily in a large box and wrote on the box in bold indigo letters:

Contents very shiny - DO NOT Uncover or Prune!

I put the box in the family room, closed the door, and lurched away pityingly.

Some time later, I was suddenly talking in the front porch when I heard a sound resembling a bull wrapping a battery. I sallied forth to the door, where I saw Vicki moving toward the doghouse, carrying a decrepit doily.

"Hello Vicki," I said urgently. "What are you doing with that doily?"

Vicki gave me a slimy look. "I just happened to find it in the conservatory."

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

Vicki stood frantically. I could see her hangnail was relaxing. "I am on my way to the badlands area," she replied happily.

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

She set out back speedily. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the doily, turned, and ran out of the front porch. I burbled, picked up the doily, and took it back to the family room.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before plucking a doily," I thought to myself, as I paraded off to soften a boomerang.