- 5,891
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...
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...
I am a little suprised to hear this is a true story, though! 
