Party Pooper

In appreciation to my publisher [three “Laughing…” books and “STUMPED” coming soon] I decided to have a “Welcome Home” party for him tomorrow.  In appreciation for all of my loyal readers, you should have received an invitation to this gala affair.  I hate to be a party pooper, but calamity barged, uninvited, into my publisher’s garage during preparations for the event.  Regrettably, I must now rescind all invitations.

My friend, Sam, was hanging the “WELCOME HOME” banner.  He had secured one end to the left bay garage door opener and was attempting to anchor it to the right bay opener.  It was a large, cumbersome, banner and it had become entangled with the opener’s chain rail.  Even more significant, Sam had somehow looped it around his neck.  Undoubtedly MOST significant—he fell from the ladder.  This resulted in severe strangulation.

I’m sure we could have rescued him much sooner except for the flash fire.  Truly an unfortunate coincidence.  You see, we just happened to be testing the oil-fired Tiki-torches while Sam was stringing himself up.  The falling ladder hit one of the torches.  It is absolutely amazing how quickly these torches dominoed into the vicinity of the just-back-from-repair lawnmower.

Whether the repair shop or I failed to replace the gas cap is a moot issue at this point.  What is important is that the mower will now likely spend the balance of the summer back at the repair shop.

Another important coincidence was that I had used the lawn mower to drag the crate of fireworks into the garage for storage until tomorrow night. At this point, I must tell you that the planned fireworks for tomorrow night would have been a fabulous pyrotechnic display had they not been prematurely ignited by the flash fire on the lawnmower.  Okay, so flash might be an understatement considering I have no idea where the gas tank went.

As you might imagine, the “rockets” of fireworks intended to explode a hundred feet in the air are powerful. The garage ceiling, insulation, and roofing offered very little resistance.  The roofer has assured me he will have the garage re-shingled before they get home tomorrow.

Even though the garage will be like new by tomorrow night, I still must cancel the party.  What good is a “Welcome Home” party without the banner?  The police are holding that as evidence pending further investigation.  They said it had something to do with Sam suing my publisher, the banner maker, ladder manufacturer, lawn mower repair shop, and me.  What a party pooper he turned out to be.

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