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Made in the USA - Freedom Breeder
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Posted by Squee on November 11, 2002 at 21:42:44:
Ok, well, maybe the second oner is slightly funny, but, I will tell them for lack of anything better to do
Dumb story #1: Ok, so, I am at this reptiles expo. I have on my "usual" attire, which consisted of an Anarchy shirt, spiked bracelet, black, heeavy duty, lotsa stupid zippers, bondage strap(No, I am not into that..eeeew...I'm 14, sheesh...they're just cool pants...)pants and, I look like some stupid kid just there to buy some "big snake to impress friends" Well, Im not. This guy behind me, looks like he's from the army, is holding a large and obviously unhealthy ball python. It has glazed eyes and looks sedated. He is bragging to his friends about this, " Anaconda I just bought. Isn't it just so F**king awesome!" His friends ooh and aah and when they reach to touch it, he jerks back saying its dangerous, and, he insists its male. I am angry, so I turn to him and say, " Oh, really? Who did you buy it from?" He snarls, eyes me up and down and says, " Why do you care, brat?" Ok, now, I'm angry...very, very so. I stand up a little straighter and tell him, not only is it not an anaconda, rather, a very emaciated and sedated, wildcaught(it had ticks and obvious parasites) ball python, but it was a female, judging by its vestigial limbs. I rattle on, using all my terminalogy on one oif my favorite boids, telling him just why he is a DUMBASS...he just stares, his jaw slack. Finally, I turn and walk away, feeling at least a little better, but sad for the snake. As I looked back, I burst out laughing. He was still sitting there, a deep look of utter confusion on his face. The look is one I will NEVR forget...nevermind, you had to be there!
Dumb Story #2: Ok, I promise this one's better, especiallu for the sadists who like brats like me in pain. My family and I rehabilitate wild animals, hurt ones, obviously. Or rather, I care for them and do all the work, while my siblings brag about owning a deer, owl, raccoon and oppossum. We don't own them, I say, we work for them. Anyway, my mom picks me up from the bus stop, with a bundle ofsomething wrapped up in her sweater. I groan inwardly. It was getting a little crowded in my room. This time its a squirrel. Our second one that week. When I get home, our first one has died. I knew he wasn't going to live, Broken back. This one, after a quick examination, has only a visible broken leg. And very, very sharp teeth. I set up a 20gal long for it. The next day, it has chewed through the screen mesh. I set up a new 20gal high for it, so nice andso pretty for my new little Rocky. I check on her, and, on Thursday, come home, ready to splint her leg.My mouth goesa dry when I peer into my room. It is completely wrecked. All my computer cords have been chewed through, lamos and even posters and picures ripped. Knwoing what I will find, I don't even look i n the cage. She is gone. I start searching, yelling at my rbother for not checking out the "sounds he heard." I see a bushy red tail poking out from undewr my couch. Sighing(worse has happened), I slip on my cloth gardening gloves(ok, mistake number one...)I yank her out, without asking for my mom to help me( mistake number two) Then, I didn't think she would struggle so much(mistake three...), so I am trying to get a grip on her(mistake four...). I get a good grip with my left hand, and with my right hand, try to hold her head back(mistake five...). She bites me. Ok, this wasn;t just a little nip. This was an I am going to kill you with my huge, 2 inch front nut chewing incisors, bite.I cuss...loudly, then proceed to yell some more(mistake six) She starts nawing by finger, and chews it(literally) to the bone. I continue to cuss and finally, I Hold her down to the couch, yell, "Get the F**k off of me!!!!"(having given up on shaking her and beating her against the wall) and yank my fi nger outmistake seven). The ripping sound almost made me puke. My hand gushing blood, I open the door to outside and almost literally throw her out(mistake eight, nine and ten), Please, you have to understand how incredibly much pain I was iun at that moment, I couldn't even think. I yank the glove off ans tare at my manged finger. I walk upstairs, leaving a long trail of blood from where she clawed me on the asrm and my spurting finger. I say, " Hey, mom, my hand kinda hurts..." She looks at it, then jumps up and screams(ok, here's the best part)" STOP IT! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING! YOU ARE GETTING BLOOD ALL OVE THE FLOOR" I stared at her and staring laughing. So, I rinse it, and the wqhole time I am punching myself for doing that to the poor little squirrel. Finally, I look at my finger. It is swollen, even now, more than a week later, to twice its size. It is has holes all ver it. I wrap it in a band aid, shrug and set about getting the squirrel out of the tree she dragged herslelf into. Thats a whole nother interesting(at least to me, pronbably not you) stro, but, my finger hurts, badly...owwwww O.o Oh well, all is aiad and done and the squirrel never realized I am trying to HELP...bye......BTW, please don't call the humane society on me, I have never hurt an animal my entire life and never will. I swear I didn;t hurt her, although her broken leg must hurt pretty bad ust now. She is getting read y to be released soon..I'm sorry...bye