When people think "Responsible," they seldom think of me.
I am doing my best.
I have agreed to be responsible for an iguana. I am a natural choice for an iguana sitter because I have little fear of salmonella.
For two days, I have seen nothing of the lizard except for the tip of his nose and the end of his tail. He has not emerged from his hiding place to eat, sh*t, or do whatever it is that reptiles do when they are not eating or sh*tting.
Determined to win his affections, I went to the pet store to learn more about iguanas. The overly helpful PetSmart associate gave me an arsenal of helpful tips. Feed it apples and romaine. Spray it with warm water. Blow my scent into the cage.
Armed with apples, a spray bottle of warm water, and wearing a heavy dose of Dior's Hypnotic Poison, I felt prepared to woo the lizard. I have wooed many, many lizards with Dior, but never with produce. I placed a slice of apple in his bowl. I wafted my scent into the cage. Then, I gently misted G*d's little creature. He bolted out from his hiding spot. I stifled a scream. He hissed and inflated the extra scrotum hanging from his chin. Then, I screamed.
I misted. The iguana hissed. I misted frantically. He stood on the heat rock and closed his eyes. His tongue darted out and licked the drops of water from his nose and eyeballs. I cooed, "Nice lizard. I have a wallet that looks just like you. Good boy."
He opened his eyes and tilted his head affectionately. I kept misting.
Until, I noticed a snotty, egg white-like substance bubbling from his loins.
I have a way with animals.