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Mar
03

The day Ferny Ceballos caused a blood curdling scream.

By

I am compelled to tell this story.  Although it may put me on the couch for the next five years, minimum.

The background

Residence:  Sunny Florida

Population:  Seniors and Palmetto Bugs (American Cockroach)

Wife:  Slightly bug phobic

The stage:

Predawn hour.  My wife, in her pajamas, is feet up in the recliner.  Our finicky girl cat, Kwan Yin, is on her lap, upside down.  Our 15-pound cat, Odin, is resting comfortably 5 feet up on top of the cat condo, snoring lightly.  Her fresh brewed cup of coffee is on the table to the right.  She has just breezed through her morning routine of the Sudoku puzzle and Scramlet puzzle in the local newspaper.

I am sure you can see where this is heading.

The action:

She lays down the newspaper with a contented sign.  All is well with the world.  Both puzzles knocked out, leaving some time before she heads for the home office.  She reaches to the floor on the left of the recliner, to pick up a zipper binder containing a SEO manual she has been reading.  She was very careful not to twitch a muscle, as the girl cat gets upset very easily.

She gently lays the binder across the arm of the recliner and the table and opens it up.  Just as she is about to remove a page, she lets out a blood curdling scream.  I am sure the neighbors on the next street over heard it.  A very large Palmetto bug comes out of the binder and scurries (that’s right, they are very fast), behind her on the chair.

Next, in less than 5 seconds:

She knocks the binder, upsetting the table it was resting on, sending the pens flying.  She scrambles to get out of the chair with the feet still up.  (this is a 53 year old, slightly over-weight, under exercised woman), still screaming.

The upside down cat leaps over the table, knocking the coffee cup over, streaks towards the glass patio door and runs full tilt into it.  She careens off the door, bounces off the gray cat and flies into another room..

The snoring, gray cat on the condo comes off in a single leap, knocking over another table, sending the contents flying around the room, runs into the girl cat, bounces into the kitchen.

I, of course, am still sitting in my recliner with my feet up, saying in my most manly voice, “What, What?’  Refusing to admit that for two seconds, I was hanging from the ceiling by my fingertips.  My wife is still walking around the room going, “heebie jeebies, heebie jeebies.”

The cats are still refusing to talk to her.  And I still smile when I see the cat smudge on the door.

Where is that darn video recorder when you need it.

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Comments

  1. Jenny says:

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