The Lizard Queen rules with an Iron Fist

Overheard at the pool: “Oh no, now ‘Mama’ is the only one left with a tail.”

I’m in a stick-figure mood.

It was not a good day for lizards. A little girl sociopath was finding lizards left and right at the pool. After she had collected about 5, she accidentally systematically separated each from their tails, and flung them, frisbee-style, into the pool. The poor guys would almost make it to the edge before the cold, pruney hands of the Lizard Queen scooped them up, only to throw them in again. Julie and I could only look on in horror. I was two beers away from jumping in after the captives and holding their little lizard heads underwater until they stopped thrashing. Assisted Suicide–I’m down with it.

Thanks to my kick-ass new cooler from Target and a 6-pack of cold Miller Lites, I was able to drink away my humanitarian urges and watch the massacre. It was almost as good as “American Gladiators.” I didn’t witness any of the lizards die, but I’m pretty sure they are not long for this world.

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