Thursday, January 22, 2004

A camel, a guy, and one near-permanent place setting right next to Darwin.

I'd like to be the fly on the wall years down the road when Grandpa explains to little Suzie how he nearly died from a fatal blow to the head. But it wasn't a night stick. It wasn't the mafia. It wasn't even an ice-skating hit man. The grim reaper made his entrance, stage left, and his name was Clyde.

Maybe Clyde was grumpy. Maybe he was jealous. Maybe the barn “Shui” was off and things were out of place. Whatever it was, Clyde decided some things just had to go. So he picked up the thing that didn't belong, and moved it. More specifically, he picked it up with his mouth. Even more specifically, picked it up and moved it with his mouth.

Except that thing wasn't a thing. It was a person. A full-grown adult-type person. And this poor shmoe was relocated head-first by the Two Humps and a Mouth moving company. One camel. Thirty-four teeth. One head. No waiting.

"Bad Camel! Drop it!! DROP IT!!!

Do you think this would work? What if the camel was angry? What if the camel was mad? Does it have mad camel disease? Maybe Clyde the camel always came in last at the races, and this time he wanted to get a head.


Whatever the answer might be, Clyde isn't talking. If you ask me, I think Clyde was expressing his unhappiness at living in sub-zero temperatures. Clyde was his own Emergency Warning System -- CAPS LOCK ON -- and he just chose to deliver the message by mouth. If you think about it, it makes sense. Camels are desert, heat, sand dunes, Midnight at the Oasis kinds of creatures. There is nothing about camels that says snow and frozen tundra.

Happily, the chompee survived his close encounter of the camel-kind, and will live to tell the tale of a camel whose bite was worse than his bark, a twice-fractured skull and the metal plate in his head that sets off the airport security alarm. A true Dromedary drama.
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