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Show WHISTLING TEA KETTLE By Allen Wishert npHAT morning, as usual, my wife gave me a written list of , a few items she needed. The list wasn't complicated as our Ave stores and six gasoline stations didn't carry everything. Our town is small, classed between a town and a hamlet, more on the village vil-lage order. She, at times, abbreviated certain cer-tain articles on the list, for Instance: In-stance: One morning there was an abbreviation; C-H. Um-m, a clawhammer. claw-hammer. Entering the hardware store I Informed Mr. Hanklns that I would like to buy a claw-hammer, ladies size. At home I unwrapped and placed It on the kitchen table. My wife came in, picked it up, examined it, then asked: "What's this for?" "To hammer and claw things," I answered. 'Why buy another one?" "Another what?" "Hammer. We have three In the garage." J'We have? Then why Insist on another one?" "I didn't," she said, clutching It more firmly. I stepped back, clear of arm and hammer reach. "You did, too," I shouted. "I did not," she raised my ante two tones. - mind absorbed on the first trip in a space-ship, when a gimmick on the stove places it's fingers between be-tween it's teeth and let's out with an unearthly whistle. "Look," I reasoned. "Surely we don't need that." "Oh, yes we do," she returned. "Every room except the kitchen contains a do-dad, so, to balance the household, I need a whistling tea kettle." "What'd you mean, balance?" I asked. "We have a coo-coo clock. I have a musical powder box, you have a humidor with a small record, rec-ord, "You overlooked the sewing machine." ma-chine." Again I visited the hardware store. Mr. Hanklns came forward and asked If I could use a saw. "No, Mr. Hanklns," I replied. "I would like to purchase a whistling whis-tling tea kettle." He began looking for that exist. "Sure enough, Mr. Hankins, there is such an article. My wife saw one advertised in the mall order catalogue." "Just a minute," he mumbled. "Let me think; where is my catalogue?" cata-logue?" He rummaged about, then asked me to wait a second. He went into the back, emereed a "Here it is," I said, fumbling through my pockets. "Right here on the list you gave me this morning." morn-ing." "Let me see," she glanced over It, handing it back demanded that I show her where a claw-hammer was mentioned. I placed my finger under the C-H. "Stupid," she said. "C-H means: clothes hamper." Several mornings later she handed hand-ed me another list. I made sure I understood her needs. Reading each item aloud, I came to one that caused me to stutter. There it was, not abbreviated, One Whistling Whis-tling Tea Kettle. - I had purchased many queer items in my time, but this was carrying It too far. Just imagine strolling through the kitchen, your moment later, and said: "Nope, it's not there. I wonder what else I could have used it for?" I ordered a catalogue. Here was my chance to get rid of that shopping list, a chore I detested. I stuck a match into the whistle and broke It off. Giving it to my wife, she filled it and placed it over the front burner. The water boiled, the whistler belched couple of times then screeched like a car going around a corner on two wheels. That did it, she grabbed it, handed hand-ed it to me and said: "Get rid of it. I'll never trust you to shop again." I carried it Into the yard, but before dumping it into the alley, al-ley, I embraced and kissed it right on the whistler. |