Railroad
Routinely Derailed
Railroad, I just had to PM you with this. I promise it is worth it. I couldn't resist.
> 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 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 wife diagnosed after a minute.
> "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 accused my wife.
>
>"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she
>inquired. (I actually think she 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 together).
>
>"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, 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 wife wanted to know. (I really do
>think she 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. "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. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr.
>Cameron."
>
>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 viscous, 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. Laughing "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 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, Dad," he told me.
>
>"Oh, you have NO idea,"
>
>Closed mouth, my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
>
>2 - Lizards - $140...
>
>1 - Cage - $50...
>
>Trip to the Vet - $30...
>
>Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie...Priceless
>
>Moral of the story -finish biology class -lizards lay eggs!
> 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 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 wife diagnosed after a minute.
> "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 accused my wife.
>
>"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she
>inquired. (I actually think she 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 together).
>
>"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, 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 wife wanted to know. (I really do
>think she 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. "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. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr.
>Cameron."
>
>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 viscous, 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. Laughing "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 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, Dad," he told me.
>
>"Oh, you have NO idea,"
>
>Closed mouth, my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
>
>2 - Lizards - $140...
>
>1 - Cage - $50...
>
>Trip to the Vet - $30...
>
>Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie...Priceless
>
>Moral of the story -finish biology class -lizards lay eggs!
Fellow reptile owner here. Corn snake, and big nasty iguana. 
