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Heavy Weight Champ
New 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.
"Honey! 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 and biting 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
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.
"Honey! 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 and biting 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
. If that did happen for real I would have lit that little bastard on fire! 
