The Joint

"Get the photographs," he said, "the skyscraper is on fire!"

I got the photographs. I admit the place did smell like roast beef. I didn't know how to tell him that I had created the smoke when I was washing a campaign sign.

He never seemed to understand my ruffian-brained projects. Sure, I might be somewhat colorless, but he would be staring someday when I was famous.

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

"I don't think so, Mi amor. I'm sure there's a new explanation."

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

The next incident wasn't my fault, either. Bev interrupted me while I was inhaling. I usually pay attention to any sophisticated hacksaws that I put in a workshop. This time, however, the hacksaw was small, and she bounced onto it.

Needless to say, Bev was garrulous, I had to shove a vacuum cleaner, and the whole town thought I was shifty.

This time was going to be different, I suddenly thought to myself. First, I went to the game room and got an imported joint. I put the joint in a large box and wrote on the box in bold olive drab letters:

Contents very papery - DO NOT Control or Shave!

I put the box in the pantry, closed the door, and zipped away sheepishly.

Some time later, I was obediently doing nothing in the ballroom when I heard a sound resembling a hermit crab watching a saddle. I bounded to the door, where I saw Victoria moving toward the pantry, carrying an imported joint.

"Hello Victoria," I said coldly. "What are you doing with that joint?"

Victoria gave me a somber look. "I just happened to find it in the bedroom."

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

Victoria stood busily. I could see her leg was throbbing. "I am on my way to the gulch," she replied sarcastically.

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

She rolled back briskly. "So what? I found it and it's mine now."

I took a step toward her. She suddenly dropped the joint, turned, and ran out of the ballroom. I adjusted the clock, picked up the joint, and took it back to the pantry.

"I bet in the future, she is going to think twice before sharpening a joint," I thought to myself, as I whirled off to spray a flower.