"It has feet like a duck, but it's furry!"

Okay, so I've been way remiss in my blogging. I admit it. My "let's grow some discipline" experiment fell flat on its face. Yes, last week was crazy-busy at work. Yes, I was fresh out of topics. Yes, no one reads this anyway. But, still: I swore I'd flex the ol' writing muscles and I haven't. But, tonight I learned something that's yanked me out of blog-tirement. Something so Earth-shattering, so life-changing, so core-rattling...well, I just had to blog.

Platypus are deadly.

Platypus (platypuses? platypie? more-than-one-platypus?) have poisonous spikes on their wee little platy-toes. A platypus could kill you, if it had half a mind to do so. Your number could be up...and it could be painted on the furry little belly of a platypus.

Now, I know yesterday was Earth Day and I should be in an "oooooooooh, nature" state of mind, but f#@! Poisonous platypus? Not cool. I recycle, I wash my clothes in cold water, I glare sideways at SUVs...but I draw the line at a freakin' poisonous platypus.

I suppose I'm not entirely surprised by the idea of random-death-by-platypus, I just always figured I'd encounter a platypus and would laugh so hard I'd choke on my Drumstik (the ice cream kind, not the chicken kind). Or maybe--more likely--I'd develop a relationship with said platypus and then one day, turn to him and say, "Hey...I thought you were a duck." And he'd freeze his gaze on the horizon and reply stonily, "Nope." Then I'd die of betrayal. But, poison? I totally didn't see that coming. Weird.