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cute furry gerbil

Gerbils Are Our Friends
by chad    Nov 19, 2001

Recently, I had to explain to my wife the art known as gerbiling. I hear you laughing! Do not be fooled, my wife is very smart; she's just a bit naive in the ways of the world.

I mean, really, I don't blame her. In biology, or sex-ed, or wherever I first learned about the beautiful and wondrous act of human reproduction, I don't remember gerbils ever being mentioned. In, out, sperm, egg. That was it. Nine months later you never get a decent night's sleep, and you take out a second mortgage on your house. Those were the rules.

So, when asked about this odd practice, I paused briefly in wonder and amazement at how such an act was created. Who, do you suppose, was the first gerbiler? Richard Gere? Certainly not. Personally, I blame it on the Greeks. After all, the Ancient Greeks were well-known for strange sexual practices, and as we all know, their servant-boys were rarely constipated. They must be the culprits. But still can you imagine?

"Whaddya nuts, Zorba? Ya want me to put Murray where?" (In my daydreams, everyone speaks with a Bronx accent. My Robert De Niro fixation has gone too far.)

I must explain something else about this slippery situation. My wife adores all of God's creatures, big and, yes, small. Tact was a must.

"Well, honey, it's when people put gerbils...well, you know..."

Of course, she didn't know.

" their bums."

Shock and disbelief followed, followed by anger misdirected at me. Even after several attempts to convince her I wasn't the one performing this bizarre sex act, she was still whacking me in the shins with a ballpine hammer.

"People should respect animals more," she huffed, storming off in her suede boots.

Then, I uttered the three words every married man knows so well, the three words that smooth over every marriage's rough spots: "You're right, dear."

All I have is a simple request to the American public, hell, the world: Please, only place small, fuzzy creatures on a flywheel. Let them live out their short lifespans in a nice, cozy, little cage. It's the only humane thing to do. And if you absolutely feel the urge, please, don't tell my wife about it.

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