My Point...And I Do Have One

important so you shouldn’t be dwelling on it) throws the Frisbee way past you and you’re furious because it’s their fault, but you smile and yell, “I’ll get it,” and they say, “Okay.” (Notice how I’ve managed to build up the suspense with some terse dialogue?)
    Anyway, it turns out that the Frisbee has flown into one of those caves that you see at most beaches. Well, you go to get it and you realize that the Frisbee has gone farther down into that cave than you had thought. So you have to spelunk down into the abysmal depths of the pitch-black cave.
    Finally, you reach what you assume is your Frisbee and you grab it, but it feels weird so you say, “Why is my Frisbee squishy?” So you squeeze it harder and you realize, “Hey, this isn’t a Frisbee … it’s a bat!”
    Well, the bat starts making that
wee-bee-bee-bee
bat noise that bats make when you’re squeezing them a little too hard (for more information on this read
Bats and the Sounds They Make When You Squeeze Them
, by Carney Pheek). So you start running as fast as you can out of the cave, but your screaming sets off thousands of bats—not a snorkel, that’s only for spiders—a whole
Nipsy Russell
of bats, which start flying out after you. Now you’re running through the sand, which is even harder than it sounds because you’re wearing high heels (they look good with the swimsuit and slenderize your hips). So you’re heading for the water thinking you’ll be safe from the bats. But just before you submerge, a bat bites you on the ear. Oh man, those sharks can smell blood from miles away. So nowyou can see the shark fins swimming toward you. But you can’t get out of the water because of the Nipsy Russell of bats. What a dilemma. It’s like
The Pit and the Pendulum
, only different. I defy you to come up with something scarier than that. It’s impossible.
    Unless
, say you’re on a farm visiting your aunt … or whomever … and she calls out to you through the kitchen window, “Ellen, Ellen honey—would you mind going to look for that thing I misplaced?” And you don’t even care what the thing is—because that guy’s inside and he wants you to call him Uncle Larry and he’s not your uncle and he’s drunk all the time and he always wears those weird pajamas—but it’s her life. So you go to look for that thing, and you think you see it in some bushes. You reach in to grab it, and you think you have it, but what you realize you’re grabbing instead is (Oh my God!!!) a … lamb.
    Okay, I admit that’s not too scary by itself. But what if it’s not just one lamb? What if it’s a lot of lambs? What if it’s a rack of lambs? That’s pretty scary, huh? Because a lot of anything is scarier than one something.
    Am I right? Think about it. One hundred poodles are scarier than one leopard. That’s assuming, of course, that the leopard has no legs. You could come home, open the door, and see a leopard with no legs sitting in your living room. So what could it do? It’s got no legs. It would be growling away, and you could sit right in front of it and make faces and touch its nose and “Woo” at it.
    The only way a no-legged leopard could hurt you is if it fell out of a tree onto your head. I don’t know how it got up the tree; maybe some of the other animals lifted it up there. But you have to admit when that leopard fell on you and clamped down on your head with its teeth, it would be pretty bad. You’d start running down the street yelling, “Help, help me, please.”
    And more often than not, you’d run into a big groupof animal-rights activists, a
Naugahyde
of animal-rights activists. And, instead of helping, they’d probably throw red paint at you. You would scream out, “It’s not a hat, it’s a live animal! It’s got no legs. I would never wear fur. I am wearing it against my will.”
    So now you’ve got a live leopard on your head and paint all over you as well. That is pretty darn terrifying. But you know, I don’t want to diminish the spider in my shoe. Believe me, looking back, that was scary enough. I guess all I’m trying to say is you don’t have to make stuff up; there are enough scary things in real life.

the time ellen
degeneres had
an emergency!

    O nce I had to be taken to the emergency room of a hospital. It was an experience I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Actually, I don’t have a worst enemy or even a best enemy. I’ve never taken the time to rank my enemies. I’m