From an anonymous male friend.............
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter
how legitimate my excuse, I always get the feeling that
my boss thinks I'm lying.
On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway,
because the truth was just too darned 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 reasoned,
I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on the top
of my head.
The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my
wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially,
the new acquisition was no problem.
Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast
when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.
"Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please
come reset it."
"You know where the button is, " I protested
through the shower pitter-patter and steam. "Reset
it yourself!"
"But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What
if it starts going and sucks me in?" There was a meaningful
pause and then, "C'mon, it'll only take
you a second."
So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping that my
silent outraged nudity would make a statement about how
I perceived her behavior as extremely cowardly. Sighing
loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink
to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing.
It struck without warning, and without any respect to my
circumstances.
No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its
gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, who discovered
the fascinating dangling objects she spied hanging between
my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked
me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment
when 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,
blindly rising 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. I know this from experience.
I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and cabinet
bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent. The impact knocked
me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Now
there are not many things in this life worse than finding
oneself lying on the kitchen floor buck naked in front of
a group of "been-there, done-that" paramedics.
Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics
were all snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their
work, all the while trying to suppress their hysterical
laughter.... ...and not succeeding.
Somehow I lived through it all. A few days later I finally
made it back in to the office, where colleagues tried to
coax an explanation out of me about my head injury. I kept
silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about, which
it was.
"What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat
got your tongue?"
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