I was forced out into the CACCC[1] in search of Pik-chur Hangers.
I knew exactly where they were thanks to a forced cleaning spree
by SWMBO[2]. I was bare-footed since my allotted assignment today
entailed "vacuuming." As this is my Se Mettre à l'Abri par le
Garçon, my Sanctuary Of Manliness, I'd never thought to share it
with anyone -- or anything -- save my tools and more clutter. It
is mine!
I stepped out onto the landing and jumped up and off -- to hear an
agitated hiss from the cement floor where I was planning to land.
I said a naughty word -- loudly.
On my trip downward, I pinpointed the source quickly enough. My
friend, George[3], from our backyard had been warming himself by
the venting area of my garage fridge. That I'd dared interrupt his
solitude was truly vexing to him. He spat at me again as I landed
and straddled him.
In the same motion, I reached down. The door swung open and out
stepped SWMBO and my three intrepid Lizard Catching Apprentices;
they'd all heard my oath and were curious. That was just enough of
a distraction to put my hand too close and for George to think he
was larger than he really is. He lunged and bit me in the part of
the hand between thumb and forefinger. SWMBO and all three
daughter-units squealed. I (true to myself) said two naughty
words.
George retained his grip as I jerked my hand away, locking his
jaws. This allowed me nab him. It was too easy; not the way I'd
originally planned but it worked.
A quick massage of George's jaw and he was wriggling like a worm.
He soon gave up and went back to hissing (and trying to bite me).
I took a few seconds to examine my hand. There was a perfect
impression (top and bottom) of where George had hung.
I showed the reptilian impression to the four. The three crowded
about to "ooh" and "ah." SWMBO then pushed my three apprentices
back into the house, and, much to my annoyance, reminded me that
/her/ Tupperware were off-limits. As the door closed, SWMBO
volleyed, "George is an outdoor pet."
George had settled down and was flicking his tongue. I brought him
up to eye-level and looked him over. His beautiful brick-brown
scales highlighted the onyx speckles. I pushed the button that
opens the CACCC-door. The shaft ground through its gears and
slowly cranked the door back. As light flooded the shadowed
interior, I saw my neighbors' daughter-units were out front
entertaining a friend.
A Thought took hold.
"Sam? Kim? Wanna see an alligator lizard? Yes, your friend can
come over, too."
For the next twenty minutes, George behaved himself as the 13 yo
and two 8 yo looked at him, petted him, and even held him. Real
Life® was going swell and the four of us were discussing the
feeding habits of local lizards when George decided that class was
dismissed. He launched himself out of Sam's hands and onto my lap.
A quick nab netted me lots of cloth but no lizard. George leapt
again to the floor to land with a solid belly-flopping splat. He
quickly recovered and proceeded to sprint back into my CACCC.
"Not there!"
George hissed over his shoulder as he skittled into a hole in the
wall.
I looked at the three, they looked at me. "We won't tell SWMBO."
Three heads bobbed in silent agreement.
[1] Catch-All-Clutter-Containment Center (aka "two-car garage"😉
[2] She Who Must Be Obeyed
[3] George is one of my many backyard residents; he's fifteen
inches of pure meanness and Tude.
The Ranger