A Brilliant Plan

         Stupidity is rampant. We see it in governments, in boardrooms and sometimes, it can even creep into our own lives. Case in point; I had a problem. It wasn’t a major problem. After all, how serious can a problem be if it concerns ketchup? (That’s ketchup, by the way, not ‘catsup’. Catsup sounds like something your feline does on the rug after eating lawn grass.)
          The situation was that Cupcake had bought the ‘family-sized’ bottle of ketchup which would only be suitable if it was, say that Octomom’s family.  Being darned near the size of a water cooler bottle, this ketchup had been in our family for a while already and most of the contents had already been freed from its squirtable plastic prison. The remainder, about a quarter cup at the bottom of the vessel, proved as unyielding as Cupcake is after I’ve had a particularly good time at darts.
           Since I’m an ideas man at heart, I immediately set the thinking part of my mind (both brain cells) to solving the problem of the stubborn sauce. I considered heating the bottle under the hot water tap to make the sugars flow more freely but didn’t want to waste water, particularly water I’d paid to heat. It also occurred to me to add some water to thin it out somewhat but recalled vividly how gross it was when Mom would do that to our ketchup as a kid. I knew thumping the bottle on the counter upside down would probably have worked but the noise would have woken Cupcake who was snoozing on the recliner and would have been irked to be disturbed from her much needed beauty sleep over a condiment.
            Suddenly, I had a spectacularly brilliant plan that was efficient, effective and silent. I had hit upon a strategy using principals of Newtonian physics to overcome my obstinate obstacle. I realized by holding the bottom of the bottle and whirling my arm in a windmill fashion, centrifugal force would cause my heart’s desire to rush to the top making itself available for my fried egg sandwich. What could possibly go wrong?
            I pushed the lid down firmly on the cap and held the bottle as I’d planned. I had a good grip on the container to make sure it didn’t fly out of my hand and become an air-borne crimson-filled missile.I scanned the kitchen looking for a suitable place to test my human centrifuge idea, studiously avoiding the ceiling fan to prevent any unfortunate collisions. Then came the wind up.
            I rotated my arm so fast I could feel the blood pooling in my fingers. Sensing the bottle loosen in my grasp, I squeezed a little harder. Suddenly, the cap flew open and instantly, I had drawn a ketchup-red line in a perfect circle across the ceiling, down the walls and fridge, bisecting the floor. Actually, there was about a circle and a half as it took me a second to realize what was happening
           “Darnheckratsshootsonofabiscuiteater!!!!!!!!!” I let loose a verbal volley at my folly. Actually, the real quote would have made George Carlin blush but it is, after all, a family paper.“Huh? Wha...??” Cupcake snorted.
            She’s awake! I chided myself for my ill-timed outburst. A bolt of fear ran through my body at the prospect of her witnessing the fresh results of my lapse in judgement. I scuttled over to her and gently tucked the blanket around her and kissed her forehead.
“Everything’s fine.... enjoy your nap...” I breathed into her ear.
            She gave an unintelligible response and began to softly snore once more.
            I hustled back to the kitchen to survey the damage. The ceiling would be the hardest job, I realized, so I started on the walls and fridge. I worked quickly and quietly sponging and expunging my misdeed from the scene of the crime.
            The ceiling proved to be more challenging than watching poker on TV without falling asleep. Curse you, stippled finish, I raged silently.  Never again! When the task was finally complete, I checked out my handiwork. My heart plummeted faster than Rita MacNeil on a luge. As I gazed up at the ceiling I could see a broad clean swath across the ceiling.  Cursing ketchup, Mr. Clean and the situation in general, I slowly, resignedly gathered up the toteful of cleaning supplies and began to wash the rest of the ceiling. “What are you doing?” Cupcake’s voice froze me in my tracks. I hadn’t heard her arise from the recliner. I must be slipping, I thought to myself ruefully.
           “I’m.... uh.... uh....”
           “You never could lie well,” she crossed her arms. “Now tell me what happened.”
           In a few short, painful sentences, I explained my flash of brilliance. Cupcake was unimpressed although amused.“As long as you clean up after yourself, I don’t care what kind of idiocy you get up to,” she giggled.  “Nice job on the ceiling, by the way.”
           So you see, stupidity is everywhere, no matter how smart we may think we are. But one stupid act doth not a stupid person make.
Cupcake, however, would disagree.