Hi Jimbo,

I¹m going to bag the run today, and it isn¹t because of the snow. I have a bad, really bad headache.

Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss thinks I am lying.

But this morning I had a valid reason, even without the snow, 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 tomorrow. By then, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on my crown.

The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to Pam¹s wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially the new acquisition was no problem, but this morning I was taking my shower after an early morning run when I heard Pam call out to me from the kitchen. "Rich! the garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it."

³You 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,  Rich, 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 Murphey, our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects he spied between my legs. He 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, Murphey leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with his needle-like claws.

Now when men feel pain or even sense danger anywhere close to their masculine region, they lose all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements. Instinctively, their nerves compel the body to contort inwardly, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed. Not even a well trained monk could calmly stand with his groin
supporting the full weight of a kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step manner.

Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option.

Fleeing straight up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is alarmed. It was a dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek great heights to escape, I never made it that far. The sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the impact knocked me out cold.

When I awoke the paramedics hovered over me. Having been fully briefed by Pam, they snorted as they did their duty while suppressing their hysterical glee.

At the diner the waitresses trying to coax an explanation out of me.I¹ve remained silent so far, claiming it was too painful to talk. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" they ask.

If they only knew.

Later,

Rich