TLCfromARK
Well-known member
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 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 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, 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 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 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.
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 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 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, 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 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 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.
:lol: 
