Lizard  Birthing Story 
        If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone 
        through the pet syndrome including toilet-flush 
        burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have 
        you laughing out LOUD! 
      
        Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet. 
      
        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 
        lizards 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 lizard-healer statement on my face and 
        followed him into his bedroom. One of the little 
        lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking 
        stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I 
        called, "come look at the lizard!" 
      
         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 lizard 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. 
        
        "It's 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 lizards 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 Heaven'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?" I 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 lizard 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 lizards 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 - lizards - $140... 
        1 - Cage - $50... 
        Trip to the Vet - $30... 
        
        Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's wacker 
        ....Priceless...