A Lizard Tale
Created | Updated Nov 10, 2005
The seething lizard flicked its vile tongue like a drunk coworker with a party favor at last year's New Year's Eve party. Russ tripped lightly along the wind-formed crevices of the angry desert cliff. Man vs Nature. Russ vs the reptile. Suddenly he felt like the hero in an unpublished Hemingway novel. But that feeling quickly passed. Once again his inexplicable fear of animals that can be made into wallets swarmed his entire being. Panicking, Russ began to pat himself down in search of any utensil which could obliterate his amphibious antagonist. A plethora of objects fretfully began to collect on the sandy surface: bubble pipe, Star Wars trading card, pack of unopened harp strings... 'Haymakers!' grumbled Russ, 'Someone’s switched pockets on me again!'
The lizard remained frozen like a Little Leaguer watching his first game situation flyball hurtling towards him in right field. Undaunted, Russ's Gestapo-style search of himself continued: souvenir toenail clippers from the Lawnchair Museum, a tire iron... 'That might help', Russ assaugingly concluded. 'Wait, I can't do this', he reasoned out loud, just as he was about to level a lethal blow to the creature's cranium. 'If this act were somehow discovered, the Humane Society, ASPCA, ACLU and Triple-A Auto Club would unite forces and sue my flanks back to bankruptcy!' Finally, in a frugal fit of earnest exasperation, Russ bent down, gave his best Mike Singletary stare into the leathery lizard's leering eyes and said, 'Go away, you nasty little bugger, you're givin' me the creeps.' Unfortunately, Russ slept through most of his ticker-tape parade the next day.
