Laugh. What else can you do?
In his first offering, Dinner With W.T., Rick Baber serves up a mixture of stories and poems guaranteed to satisfy anyone hungry for homespun humor and charm.
I tried to reassure myself. "It's not the end of the world, Rick. You just have a loggerhead hanging from your nutsack."
I gently lifted W.T. to relieve some of the pressure, and hobbled over to the bed, thinking that if I just spread out and laid there for a few minutes he'd let go. He didn't.
I lit a cigarette and tried to lean forward and blow smoke in his face. That didn't do any good either.
Panic turned to paranoia. I could see the night clerk (that greasy little weasel bastard with the wire rim glasses) downstairs, with all of his greasy little bug-doctor-weasel bastard friends, gathered around the secretly-installed surveillance camera monitor, spitting beer as they laughed unrestrainedly at the image of the smoking turtle between the naked man's legs. I turned out the lamp beside the bed, but the glow from the television still illuminated me...and W.T. And the damn remote wouldn't work. And it was on cable, showing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.