Greetings and Salivations!
 
Most of you are probably wondering who the heck this is but, hopefully,
some of the old-timers will remember me.  Since Tater and Odie went to live
in Wisconsin a couple of years ago, I haven't been very active on the FML.
Most of my feeble mental faculties are now devoted to publishing the Grins
Mailing List, but I do keep up with goings on in the wonderful world of
ferrets.
 
So, in response to the recent requests for more funny stories on the FML, I
offer the following bit of insanity.  No, it's neither original nor true,
but why let that get in the way of a good story?  I hope you enjoy it.
 
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable.  No matter how legitimate
my illness, I always sense my boss thinks I'm lying.  On one occasion, back
when Tater was still a youngster, 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 would 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 Mee Maw's wishes to
adopt a cute little kitty.  It seemed a reasonable request since I had a
ferret running loose in the house and I thought it might be cute if Tater
had a kitten to play with.  (This was before Odie came to live with us.)
Initially the arrangement was no problem, but one morning I was taking my
shower after breakfast when I heard Mee Maw holler out to me from the
kitchen.  "Paw Paw!  The garbage disposal is dead.  Come reset it."
 
"You know where the button is." I protested through the shower
(pitter-patter).  "Reset it yourself!"
 
"I'm 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 and Tater had been
playing tag in the hall and she found a neat hiding place under the sink
with me.  That was when she decided to play a new game.
 
At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I
unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws.
 
Now when men feel pain or even sense danger anywhere close to their
masculine region, they lose all rational thought to control orderly
bodily movements.  Instinctively, their nerves compel the body to contort
inwardly, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed.  Not even a
well trained monk could calmly stand with his groin supporting the full
weight of a kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step manner.
 
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome.  Men,
in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option.
 
Fleeing straight up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is
alarmed.  It was a dismal irony.  But, whereas cats seek great heights to
escape, I never made it that far.  The sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my
ascent; the impact knocked me out cold.
 
When I awoke, Mee Maw and the paramedics stood over me.  Tater and the
kitten were playing tag in the hall again, acting like nothing unusual
had happened.  Having been fully briefed by Mee Maw, the paramedics snorted
as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing their hysterical
laughter.
 
At the office the next morning, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out
of me.  I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk.  "What's the
matter, cat got your tongue?"
 
If they had only known...
 
Joy to the World!
 
Paw Paw
 
http://members.aol.com/emssandy/personal.htm
[Posted in FML issue 2970]