| 
				 Kittens new toy 
 
			
			Calling in sick to work makes me feel very uncomfortable. No matter how  legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss thinks I am lying.
 On one occasion, I had a valid reason, but lied anyway because the truth  was just too humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a  head injury and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By  then, I could think up a crazy way to explain the bandage on my crown.
 
 The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife's wishes to  adopt a cute little kitty. Initially the new acquisition was no problem,  but one morning I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my  wife, Lisa, call out to me from the kitchen. "Chuck! The garbage  disposal is dead. Please come reset it for me. "
 
 "You know where the button is. " I protested through the shower (pitter-patter). "Reset it yourself! "
 
 "I am scared! " She pleaded. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?"
 
 (Pause) "C'mon, it'll only take a second. "
 
 So grudgingly out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a  clear statement about how her cowardly behavior was not without  consequence. I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find  the button. It is the last action I remember performing.
 
 It struck without warning, without respect to my circumstances. No, it  wasn't a hexed disposal drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was  our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects she spied  between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as  I took the bait under the sink. At precisely the second I was most  vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I had so unwittingly offered and  snagged them with her needle-like claws.
 
 I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements, while  rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed, with the full w eight of a  kitten hanging from my masculine region.
 
 Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men,  in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. Fleeing straight  up, the sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the impact knocked  me out cold.
 
 When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having no doubt  been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics snorted as they tried to  conduct their work while suppressing hysterical laughter.
 
 At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept  silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about. "What's the matter,  cat got your tongue? "
 |