Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Gina sent me this...its so good it had to have a seperate page!
If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD!
Here's what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying here looking sick," he told me.
"I'm serious, Mom. Can you help?
"I put my best lizard-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
"Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"
"Oh my gosh," my husband diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Dad!"
I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my husband.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" he inquired. (I actually think he said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded him, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," he informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, you think?)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a
wondrous experience," I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth.
" OH, Gross!" they shrieked.
Well, isn't THAT just great! What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?" my husband wanted to know. (I really do think he
was being snotty here, too, don't you?)
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"Its breech," my husband whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Mom!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several
more times with the same results.
"Should I call 911?" my eldest son wanted to know.
"Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the men in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap.
"Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
"I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his father noted to him. (Men can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what he does to me is one thing, but this boy is of his loins, for God's sake.)
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my husband asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labour. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen...Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um....um....masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my husband. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mrs Cameron."
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So Ernie's just...just...excited," my husband offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood. More silence.
Then my vicious, cruel husband started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" I demanded knowing, but not believing that the man I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless femininity.
Tears were now running down his face.
"It's just...that...I'm picturing... you pulling on it's...it's...teeny little..." he gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned.
We thanked the Veterinarian and hurriedly bundled the lizards and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Mom," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my husband agreed, collapsing with laughter.
2 - Lizards - $140...
1 - Cage - $50...
Trip to the Vet - $30...
Memory of your wife pulling on a lizard's wacker …. Priceless!!!
Posted by piddy77 at 5:05 PM