Totally HElarious story!
I talked crap @ 2:08 p.m. on Wednesday, Oct. 01, 2003

This is a HElarious story... jus' read it=)

Calling in sick to work makes me 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 too humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had

sustained a head injury and I hoped I wouldn't feel up to

coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a doozy

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, as I was taking my shower

after breakfast, I heard my wife, Deb, call out to

me from the kitchen. "Ed! The garbage disposal is dead.

Come reset it."

"You know where the button is," I protested. "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 out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to

make a 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.

Nay, 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 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 weight 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 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?" If

they had only known.

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