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THIS IS TOO FUNNY, ENJOY!





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!



Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet. 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 there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad.

Can you help?"



I put my best lizard-healer expression 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 wife exclaimed. "She's having babies."



"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"



I was equally outraged.



"Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to

reproduce,"



I said accusingly to my wife.



"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she

inquired (I think she actually said this sarcastically!). "No, but you

were supposed



to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet

voice, while gritting my teeth).



"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.



"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she

informed me (Again with the sarcasm!).



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 wife wanted to know.



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. "It's breech,"

my wife whispered, horrified. "Do something, Dad!" my son urged.



"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it

next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several

more times with the same results.



"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they

could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the

females 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 mother noted to him. (Women can

be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing,

but this boy is of her womb, 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 wife asked.



"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. 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 wife.



We were silent, absorbing this. "So, Ernie's just . . . Just . .. .

Excited," my wife offered.



"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.



More silence. Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And

giggle. And then even laugh loudly.



"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the

woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless

manliness.



Tears were now running down her face. "It's just . . . That . . . I'm

picturing you pulling on its . . . its . . . teeny little . ." She

gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.



"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled

the lizard 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 did, Dad," he told me.



"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter. Two

lizards: $140. One cage: $50. Trip to the vet: $30.



Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie: Priceless



Moral of the story: Pay attention in biology class. Lizards lay eggs.
 
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