Bree loves me, and on the days when I’m lucky, she doesn’t prove it.
Yesterday was not one of those days, so Mr. Lizard joined Mr. Lizard Bits, and Mr. Leakyfeather Bird in the great hereafter.
Now, since I had the unpleasant experience of briefly desecrating Mr. Bits (Cliff Notes version- it involved his head between my bare toes, screaming in tongues, and the realization that when the situation calls for it, I can, in fact, fly), Mr. Rick Wellman is called upon to perform the solemn, manly service of laying Bree’s proofs of love to rest.
What I think Rick does to accomplish this-
He removes whatever covering I have placed over the dearly departed, and sighs with melancholy regret. Gently, he wraps this vessel in a shroud, and lifts it with ineffable kindness to lay within the embrace of mother earth, that it might live again. Blowing taps on his bugle, he holds the last note, poignantly, then salutes the fallen. He then comes back into the house with a slow, solemn nod to convey that the ritual is complete.
What Rick probably actually does-
Takes the plastic bowl off the dead freakin lizard, sighing with annoyance at the damn dog. “How the hell is a dog with two inch freakin legs fast enough to catch and kill shit?” he wonders as he lifts it by the tail, carefully walking around the side of the house to the trashcan so I won’t see him to dispose of the poor lil bastard in the trashcan. Stomps back around the house, through the door, nods that it’s safe to go back into the bedroom now and hits the shower. Shakes head at Bree.
What really happens? No one knows.
Curiouser and Curiouser 