So I'm spinning, spinning, ready to confront any intruder with my deadly crane style. Well, the suburban computer geek version of crane style. Call it Primitive Crane style. You'll note that Primitive cranes are extinct. And French, so the only intruder I'll have a chance against is an Italian ornithologist, or maybe a Belgian. Definitely not a German. German ornithologists are the terror of the bird world.

But once I've spun, spun, the tableau that presents itself is more Madonna and Child than Giuseppe the nocturnal bird-watcher. There they are, reclining on the bed, surrounded by a soft golden halo of.of.

"Helllllllp mmmmeeeee."

My god that's a lot of vomit. The next thought queued up in my head, caring, loving father and husband that I am, is "I sure am glad that's not my side of the bed."


This is just hysterical. Do not drink coffee and read this.