Rational Crank

Yesterday I was quietly sitting at my computer writing (ok surfing for pictures of woman in slave Princess Leia outfits) with my cat lounging innocently on my desk next to me when my wife burst into the office with a pair of scissors. “It’s time to take the stitches out of the cat,” She said ominously. It had been 14 days since our cat (Mr. Sneaches) had minor surgery to remove a large mole. I was shocked at her statement. “I’ll make an appointment with the vet tomorrow,” I said. “Then one of us will have to take off from work. Let’s just do it ourselves, right now!” she jeered while focusing the desk lamp on the unsuspecting victim. “Are you insane? You’re not a Vet. You don’t know what you are doing,” I protested shielding the cat from her advance. “Come on. It’s no big deal. You get under the knot and, snip, snip, snip.” I was convinced she was out of her mind. This delicate procedure could only be carried out in a modern sterile surgical arena and only by a team of highly tr...