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The tornado sirens were screaming which meant that a twister had been sighted. I was home alone and I could see out the windows that the sky looked angry. Not Joe Pesci “Casino” angry, but more like Robert DeNiro “Cape Fear” angry. Yeah, that angry. Now the wife and I had gone through a drill like this before. My smooth calm demeanor got us through it with five lizards huddled up in the bathroom. But that time, we had a few more minutes and the getting all the kids together was easier with the two of us. But by myself? That’s a different story. Cali is just deathly afraid of Dorian, he’d never hurt her, but she doesn’t seem to grasp that. She’s really just a Nervous-Nancy to begin with, but in a storm with Dorian? She’s downright Chicken Little. Cali has a cat carrier that the wife has used in the past, and the last time we had a storm she packed Cali into it. But with the storm coming like a freight train on rocket fuel, I did not want to mess around with stuffing a hysterical, mad-scratching, wild-eyed iguana into a enclosed box with a metal gate. No thank you. So I grabbed Dorian’s canvas duffel bag, the kind they sell at an army surplus store, and tossed Cali into it. I grabbed Gobo’s bag and did the same with her, well more like I had her sort of walk into and zipped up around her since I was even less inclined to deal with a water monitor with attitude (Yikes!). I took a shoebox that doubles as a bearded dragon tote and stuff Irwin inside of it. He was so mad when he saw the box, cause he knew that he would have stay in there, and it usually meant someone was going to poke him at the doctor’s office when he got out, poor lil’ guy. He was all puffed up and angry when I took out of his tank. “Hey, don’t put me in there. Hey!” I saved Dorian for last because we had run out of bags, and of the four, I knew he would be the calmest, and despite Irwin’s relative small size, the most controllable. I wrapped Dorian in a blanket despite his nonplused demeanor, (no sense to getting scratched like a wooden table leg at the crazy cat lady’s house), and quickly made my way to the bathroom with the four kids. I first laid Cali in her bag in the tub, then got in myself while hold Dorian. Next I grabbed Gobo’s bag, and hauled her over the side of the tub, and then finally collected Irwin and the shoebox. It was not the most comfortable of positions. No one was really happy, although Dorian seemed the most blasé about the whole ordeal. During this whole time, I have the news on as it details the storms path and twister touchdowns. I also have periodic conversations with the wife, lettering her now we’re all safe and eventually, asking for her help. See, I’m not the smallest dude in the world, and crammed into that bathtub with three 10-15 lb lizards was really uncomfortable. Gobo was stretched out on my left leg, which I had suspended high enough for Cali to rest underneath. Invariably, both my legs fell asleep, and even after I heard the weatherman on the local news suggest everything was so dead in those tree trunk-like extremities, that there was no way I was getting out the tub by my lonesome, let alone with four restless reptiles on me. Eventually, it was I who became restless and antsy as the tingling sensation that comes with lack of blood flow turned to outright pain after being stuck in that position for nearly an hour and half. The wife got home and ran into the bathroom and helped me out, but not before she took that picture. What a crazy day.