The Hammer

The Hammer 

by Mark Lyons

Image by Benjamin Nelan from Pixabay

           “Have you seen my hammer, Sally?” asked Mark. “I want to pound a few nails into our back fence – the one that is falling apart because I worked, uh, ………since the last time I worked on it. And maybe I can get a chance to miss the nail head and whack the heck out of my thumb.”

            “No, Honey, I have not seen your hammer. I remember seeing it when you tried to use it to swat at a wasp that was flying around our living room,” replied Sally. “If I recall, you didn’t get the wasp but managed to wipe out our, and I emphasize OUR, entire scented candle collection on our mantel.”

            “Oh, yeah,” mused Mark. “It smelled like leaves in there for weeks. But I disagree with you about not getting the wasp. We never saw it again.”

            “That’s because of the strong candle smell. Probably forced it to go underground,” replied Sally.

            Mark rifled through the top drawer of their dresser in the bedroom.

            “Why are you looking there?” asked Sally.

            “When I was looking for our staple gun to put up our bedroom curtains, I found it here,” said Mark. “So, I’m thinking so goes the hammer. Nope, not here, but I did find the new black pair of argyle crew socks from SammySocks Etc. that you have been looking for days. They will look really great with your new shoes.”

            “Thanks,” said Sally. “Now go whack some nails. I found your hammer. It was in the bathroom next to the toilet.”

            “Oh, yeah,” said Mark. “I remember now. I was working on an invention to automatically put the seat down on the toilet.”

            “Yes, and how did that work out?” asked Sally.

            “Uh, not so good,” replied Mark. “The seat kept getting stuck halfway down. That’s the reason for the hammer.”