FW: WARNING: Bellowing and quit embarrasing laughter my erupt

-----Original Message-----
From: "Oswald, Stacey" <cdtmn@Allstate.com<@ENRON
Sent: Tuesday, October 16, 2001 11:27 AM
To: 'beth & john'; 'dorothy'; 'John Flato'; Olinger, Kimberly S.; 'mary criaco'; 'Sandra Parker'; 'Yuca Wyatt'
Subject: FW: WARNING: Bellowing and quit embarrasing laughter my erupt

I laughter so hard I was crying at my desk!!!!!

< -----Original Message-----
< From: Lisa S. Sooter [SMTP:Lisa.Sooter@haynesboone.com]
< Sent: Tuesday, October 16, 2001 11:13 AM
< To: cdtmn@allstate.com; RevaKnight@aol.com; brendar@baylordallas.edu;
< christiansenl@exempla.org; Kirstjen Nielsen; Lenore Mason;
< darlaonline@ix.netcom.com; edonahue@jw.com; chume@lynnllp.com;
< odady@swbell.net; LHICKEY@utsa.edu
< Subject: WARNING: Bellowing and quit embarrasing laughter my erupt
<
< I had seen this before but on this particular day a hearty laugh was
< welcomed and I remembered just how priceless some things are! Even if
< you've seen it before reread it.
<
< < 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!!! - guaranteed!
< <
< < Overview: I had to take my son's hamster 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 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 statement 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, ya know," she
< < informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, ya 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.
< < "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 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?" 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 hamster is not in labor. In
< < fact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie
< < is a boy."
< < "What!?"
< < "You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into
< < maturity, like most male species, they um.... er.... 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 viscous, 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 into laughter
< <
<