Why I called in sick to work....or........IT'S THE CAT'S FAULT.

[northofdenali]

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 onthe kitchen floor buck naked in front of a
group of "been-here, 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?"

Yes, I had to clean my keyboard after reading this email from a friend this morning.....................

[ewagner]

1. Still Laughing

That's one of the best stories I've heard in years.

Thanks for sharing it ........

[Rabrrrrrr]

2. HA HA! I'd forgotten about that story

haven't read that one in YEARS!

Thanks for the reminder!

[northofdenali]

3. Vanity kick for the friday night crowd.

:kick: