WE'VE GOT A BLEEDER!

Ranger is running around free in my apartment right now and having the time of his life. I have given up on scooting him out from under my couch and bed. He comes out on his own time. I’d say he’s got me pretty well trained. Excuse me a moment. “HEY BUCKO! LAY OFF THE BACKPACK WILL YA?!” (His latest obsession is chewing on those little strappy things that hang off my backpack. As long as he’s not going for my electrical cords, I’m cool with it.)

I have to say that it’s comforting having the little pitter patter of bunny feet reverberating around my apartment. It means I’m not completely alone. And as pathetic as that may sound, it does not mean that I am sorely wallowing in self pity over my ‘one’ness. Instead, I choose to embrace it. It’s wonderful having a bunny to talk to. I shant go more into that as the crazy cat lady imageo f me lurks in the back of my mind.

Right. So where was I? Oh yes. Well, I guess I’ll just say that any of you that are under 18 should have parental guidance when reading this. It contains many explicit references to the male reproductive system and may cause alarm to more than one of you. That being said, I’m sure you’re all dying to know what I’m talking about now (you sickos you) so sit back, relax, and turn and cough. This won’t hurt a bit. . .



It was a chilly autumn morning and Vivian wandered into class late, as usual. She sat down in the aisles so as not to disturb anyone. Aaron, the other kid in class who is always late, nodded at her from the aisle step below and they gave each other a mental high five. “what’s going on?” she whispered to him.
“we’re learning about the mail delivery system.”
“What?! Why do we have to learn about mail?”
“No! not mail, the male, M-A-L-E, delivery system. You know.”
“what the? Oh.”
Vivian groaned.

Meanwhile, up at the front of the classroom, Vivian’s anatomy prof, Dr. Adams, was lecturing away about the various parts of the penis and prepuce and waving around a giant white bone of some sort. “You see this in my hands? Does anyone know what this is?”

*Silence as 70 pairs of eager first year vet student eyes study the long stick-like bone with intensity.*

“It’s the penis bone from a walrus!”

We all gasp simultaneously.
“Ha! Pretty impressive huh? It’s so they can have sex without being fully hard. And only the senior anatomy prof gets to hold it!”

He waved it around proudly in the air.

He continued on with his power point presentation in the usual fashion and pretty soon, Vivian was falling asleep. What can I say? The male reproductive tract is just not that interesting! The males in the class, however, were transfixed and were either gazing at the powerpoint presentation with admiration and awe or absolute embarrassment and humility as picture after picture of various genitalia from males of all species were flashed up on the screen.

Vivian slept on through the lecture and was just about to start drooling when suddenly, she was awakened by the exclamations and murmurings of her classmates. She woke up and tried to focus on the screen. It was a picture of a zebra standing against a fence in a zoo. What was all the hullaballo about? It was just a zebra. Vivian focused harder. Just a zebra . . . with an erection. Still, not that big of a deal, I mean, the animals have to do it somehow right? We can all be mature about this.

“You will notice,” said Dr. Adams, “that only the prepuce in this picture is out of focus. That is because it is moving. This was a picture taken by a world expert on animal behaviour from the University of Pennsylvania. The zebra in this picture is masturbating.”

More gasps and murmurings. He went on to explain the exact mechanics of zebra masturbation which I won’t discuss here as I am sure none of you would like me to go into it. Heck, I don’t want to try to recall it.

When I applied to vet school, I was imagining playing with puppies and kittens and maybe shoving my arm up a cow or two. So young. So naïve.

The slide show ended and my prof waved around the walrus penis bone in the air with relish. “To the lab with you all! To the lab!”

We herded out of the lecture theatre, still traumatized by our ruined image of zebras and wandered into the locker rooms to get changed for the anatomy lab. Minutes later, Vivian emerged through the double steel doors of the lab room. She was greeted with the stench of preservatives and disinfectant. She wandered over to where most of the class was gathered.

“OK. Everyone gather close. I just want to show you all the live demonstration before you get too far into your dissections. Do you all have a good view?” said Dr. Adams.

The vet class huddled around the exam table and leaned in to make a closer inspection. On the exam table sat Jake, a grey and white spotted greyhound who was clearly nervous at suddenly being the center of attention.

“So I’m getting Jim to film this so that you guys there in the far corner can just watch the video screen and don’t crowd the table. Jim, you wanna zoom in right here on his, uh, prepuce?”

Jim zoomed the camera into poor Jake’s groin and Jake began shaking. He looked nervous. Meanwhile, Glenna, our other lab instructor was petting his head.

“OK. So I’m going to try and see if I can stimulate ol’ Jake here to show you all the stiffness and flexibility paradox I mentioned in class.” He smirked.

“He’s not going to do what I think he’s going to do is he?” whispered Vivian to the girl beside her.
“Um, I hope not. I guess we’ll see in a bit won’t we?”
“Um, yeah. . . Oh my goodness. He’s putting on a glove. He’s reaching towards Jake’s . . OH. MY. AHHH! I can’t look.”

Jake began panting.

5 minutes later, Dr. Adams started stroking and squeezing Jake’s prostate glands a bit more and Jim zoomed the camera in further. Meanwhile, Vivian stood beside the table amongst her classmates and felt like she was part of some Dog Porn video shoot. It was Boogie Nights, the vet version.

The crowd was unnaturally silent. Jake was panting pretty hard now and his nervous expression had been replaced by a mindlessly happy one. It was wrong on so many levels.

Several minutes later, the little test tube that Dr. Adams had been holding under Jake was filled and the shocked wide-eyed expression that many of the vet students wore was turning more into an expression of denial and mental suppression.

Jake sat at the table still wearing his mindlessly happy face.

“OK. Good boy Jake!” said Dr. Adams and lifted Jake off the table. He patted the greyhound’s head and led him out of the anatomy room. “you need a cigarette now don’t you boy?”

Vivian looked at the floor, trying to clear her head of the recent act of abomination she had just witnessed.
“I feel dirty somehow.”
“Me too Viv. Me too,” agreed her lab partner.

Vivian and her lab partner looked down at their dissection table at the disembodied bull penis and scrotum and contemplated their earlier words for a few seconds.

“Oh well!” they shrugged and without further ado, severed the retractor muscles with their scalpels.

The guys in the class nervously huddled together in a corner as if they were trying to draw strength from one another. Some closed their eyes and whispered what sounded a lot like “mommy!” and “there’s no place like home.”

Meanwhile, the girls all ripped up the organs like there was no tomorrow. Vivian resisted the urge to shout out “WE’VE GOT A BLEEDER!”

When scalpels weren’t good enough, the big carving knives were taken off the walls and used to hack further into the organs. At one point, our lab instructor (also a female) pulled out a chain saw and giant two foot long pliers and I swear the guy in front of me almost fainted.

Then one of my other profs was trying to explain the anatomy of the testicles and he was so nervous and stuff that he kept stuttering and he’d be like, “this is the epididi . . .the epididi . . .the epididi . . .*look of total concentration* the EPIDIDIDIDYMIS!!!”
Vivian’s class tried very hard not to giggle at the added syllables to epididymis. It was rather adorable though.

All in all, I’d say it was a Wednesday morning well spent. A bit traumatizing (I’ll never look at zebras or greyhounds the same way again) but educational. My female classmates and I definitely have subdued some of our anger towards men and the world is probably a better place for it.

And I am now off to shower away the stench of bull testicles and hopefully do some cooking for the potluck that my classmate is holding tonight. What amazes me is that we can be shoulder deep in crap during the day but at night, have no qualms about eating what the same two hands have prepared. Mmmmm. Adds a lovely flavour don’t you think?

Well, take care everyone. Hope you’ve all had less traumatizing weeks than I’ve had.

Perhaps I should have stayed in science . . .