Lying in bed with Pontifica this morning, I receive a call from Brian on my cell. He sounds frantic, but that isn't necessarily unusual. "There's a lizard outside our window," he says. "And I think it's dead...at least it isn't moving."
"A big lizard?" I say.
"Yeah, pretty big...looks like it's almost a foot long."
"Do you want to maybe put it in a box?"
"Well...."
"That's OK, Brian. I'm on my way home and I'm not squeamish at all about these things. I'll dispose of the dead lizard. Maybe I'll even give it a funeral."
"Thank you."
So, I get home and I stride over to the window where Brian said the lizard would be. I stride because I'm all full of myself that I can deal with this lizard situation when my housemate, a grown man, an actual handyman cannot. I'm expecting a small green-grey thing, a foot long from head to end of tail, but I don't see anything. Guess it wasn't dead, I muse. And then I see this:
and this, as you can see, is just its freakin' tail.
Brian, the freakin' tail is longer than a foot, OK?
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