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The biggest chameleon I’ve ever seen was sunning by the front door this afternoon. So of course, I tried to catch him. To show my son, Nash, but also because I can’t help myself – when there is a small cute critter in front of me, I have to try to touch it.
In an unexpected evasive maneuver, the chameleon leaped onto my shirt and ran to the middle of my back. I could just see the tip of his tail over my shoulder, but couldn’t reach him. Stalemate!
My neighbor was at her mailbox, so I walked gingerly over and said, “I have a chameleon riding piggy-back, can you get him?” and turned to show her my back.
I should probably mention that I tend to talk rather fast. I’m not sure my neighbor caught anything other than “…can you get him?”, because there was a very long pause.
Then she said, “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”
So I screamed too. Because when someone unexpectedly lets out a blood-curdling scream **right behind you**, what other suitable response is there? Then I started laughing and peed myself, and she ran in the house.
So there I stood, in the middle of my cul-de-sac, in my pee pants, laughing like a lunatic and turning slowly in a circle as I tried to look at my own back.
There have been more than a few times I have been thankful that the guys in white coats don’t go out patrolling for loonies, and this was one of those days.
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