-----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
> >
>