[TheForge] OT humor?

[Jerry Frost]

Don't try THIS at home. . . and talk about it in public anyway. <grin>

Frosty
------------------------
If it ain't forged
it ain't real.
Wrought iron is.
The FrostWorks

Meadow Lakes, AK.
          

       If you have raised kids, or gone through the pet

      syndrome including toilet-flush burials for dead

      goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD! 

       

       Here's what happened: 

       

       Just after dinner one night, my son came up to

       tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the

      two hamsters he holds prisoner in his  room. 

       

       "He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. 

       "I'm serious, Dad. Can  you help?" 

       

       I put my best hamster-healer _expression  on my

       face and followed him into  his bedroom. 

       

       

       One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his

       back, looking stressed. 

       

       I immediately knew what to do. 

       

       "Honey", I called, "come look at the hamster!" 

       

       "Oh my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. 

       "She's having babies." 

       

       "What?" my son demanded. 

       


       "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!" 

       

       I was equally outraged.  "Hey, how can that be?  I

       thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce,"

       

      I accused my wife. 

       

       "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in

       their cage?" she inquired.  (I actually think she

       said this sarcastically!) 

       

       "No, but you were supposed to get two boys!"  I

       reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet

       voice, while gritting my teeth together). 

       

       "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed. 

       

       "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some

      guys, you know," she informed me.  (Again with the

       sarcasm, you think?) 

       

       By now the rest of the family had gathered to see

       what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make

      the best of it.  "Kids, this is going to be a 

       wondrous experience, I announced.  "We're about to

       witness the miracle of birth." 

       

       "OH, Gross!" they shrieked. 

       

       "Well, isn't THAT just Great!  What are we going


      to do with a litter of tiny little hamster babies?"

       my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was

       being snotty here, too, don't you?) 

       

       We peered at the patient.  After much struggling,

       what looked like a tiny  foot would appear

      briefly, vanishing a scant second later.  "We don't

      appear to be making much progress," I noted. 

       

       "Its breech," my wife whispered, horrified. 

       

       "Do something, Dad!" my son urged.   "Okay, okay."

       

       

       Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot

       when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug.  It

       disappeared.  I tried several more times   with

       the same results. 

       

       "Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to

       know.  "Maybe they could talk us through the

       trauma."  (You see a pattern here with the females in

      my house?)

       

       

       "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. 

       

       We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage

       in his lap.  Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.  

       


       "I don't think hamsters do Lamaze," his mother

       noted to him.  (Women can be so cruel to their own

       young.  I mean what she does to me is one thing, but

      this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.) 

       

       The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and

       peered at the little animal through a magnifying

       glass.  "What do you think, Doc, a c-section?" 

       suggested scientifically. 

       

       "Oh, very interesting," he murmured. 

       

       "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you

       privately for a moment?"  I gulped, nodding for my

      son to step outside. 

       

       "Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked. 

       

       "Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us.  "This

       hamster is not in labor.  In fact, that isn't EVER

      going to happen... Ernie is a boy.  

       

      You see, Ernie is a young male.  And occasionally, as

      they come into maturity, like most male species, they 
      um....um....masturbate.  Just the way he did, lying on his back." 

       


       He blushed, glancing at my wife.  "Well, you know

       what I'm saying, Mr. Cameron." 

       

       We were silent, absorbing this.  "So Ernie's

       just...just...Excited," my   wife offered. 

       

       "Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we

       understood.   More silence. 

       

       Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. 

       And giggle.  And then even laugh loudly. 

       

       "What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not

       believing that the woman I married would commit

       the upcoming affront to my FLAWLESS manliness. 

       

       Tears were now running down her face.  "It's

       just...that...I'm picturing you pulling on its...

       its...teeny little..." she gasped for more air to 

       bellow in laughter once more. 

       

       "That's enough," I warned. 

       

       We thanked the Veterinarian and hurriedly bundled

       the hamsters and our son back into the car. He was

      glad everything was going to be okay. 

       

       "I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've

       done, Dad," he told me. 

       


       "Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing

       with laughter. 

       

       2  Hamsters ..... $10 

       1  Cage ...... $20 

       1 Trip to the Vet ..... $30 

       Memory of your husband pulling on a hamster's

      private jewels........... $PRICELESS!!!!!!