Jeez. C.W. was in a dreadful state. Remember how Jimmy Swaggart and Jim Bakker looked when they got caught? Put their faces on Steve Buscemi’s body and you would have it. We were out on the patio and he had just interrupted my evening reading.
“It’s not my fault,” he said, wiping his nose.
“What is not your fault?” I said.
“What Mrs. Big Dope is going to tell you about.”
I put my book down. “What have you done now?”
“I didn’t do it.”
I cocked my head like I do when I know he’s lying, which is most of the time when he is in this shape. “You didn’t do it?”
“Well, maybe I did but it’s not my fault.”
“You are confusing me.”
“She trapped me into an innocent mistake. I would never think to do something like that on my own.”
“You’ll buy her a new one, won’t you?”
“A new what?”
“Oh no, C.W. What have you done now?”
“I was taking care of things. Cleaning the kitchen like you told me to.”
“She laid this trap for me. It’s her fault.”
“What kind of trap?”
“Recipes. Food. You know, ingredients. How could I resist? I just happened to walk by.”
“She obviously wanted me to learn to cook Earthling food.”
“She told you that?”
“She didn’t have to. She just left all the things out like she wanted me to.”
“I knew she would get angry if I didn’t try. I was just following orders.”
“Like written or oral orders?”
“More like implied orders. She’s good at those.”
“What happened to the microwave?”
“Just a small incident. The controls weren’t working properly. The unit must have been bad from the factory.”
“A small incident?”
“And not my fault at all. I’m blameless. I’m the best person on Earth at operating machinery. It couldn’t have been my fault.”
“But you were involved.”
“I was a victim. Pure and simple.” He started with the crying again. We heard a scream from inside the house.
“She’ll be coming out here now,” he said. “Quick. Let’s decide how we’ll punish her for the awful thing she did to me.”
“Are you serious?”
“She is to blame because you destroyed something?”
“She should have known better. I’d lock her in her room for a day or two.”
“And what reason would I give?”
“Making me a victim. Poor innocent me.” He resumed whining and crying.
We heard footsteps.
“Got to run,” he said. “Lock her up. Please. Lock her up.”
And he was gone. Where does he learn such things?