An Engaging Proposition;

They arrived at a Bar just as the bartender was leaving for the night, counting her tips. They were aware that it was 6 ot seven hours before noon, but having had their hearts set on a Fosters, they were somewhat crestfallen. The bartender was not only friendly, but she had a camera, and seemed to be the friendly kind. The Aussie spoke first, and tripped over his tongue, "How am I?" he asked. Without skipping a beat, she light-heartedly replied, "You look like a Virgin Screwdriver in search of a Shirley Temple!" "My name's Sam Clementine," the Texan lied, easing his friend over the hump, and extending the right hand of friendship. She shook his hand firmly, with a bright, "Hi, I'm Andrea, Andrea Sheila." The Aussie's heart thumped so loudly they could both hear it, but they politely overlooked his distress as he introduced himself, "Melbourne, Melbourne Sydney, Pleased to meet you." "So polite and truthful too," she smiled demurely. "What are you boys in search of at the bottom of a bottle?" Being more in possession of his faculties, the Texan spoke before his friend could embarrass himself further, "We were really just looking for a Fosters, to freshen us up for another long trip." "Will you marry me?" the Aussie asked. It was Sheila's turn to do a double take. The last time anyone had asked her, he had been three sheets to the wind, and offering a tarnished, slightly green, ring. She decided to see if the Texan could match the shade, being a bit of an interior decorator, and said "Certainly, Melbourne. Where shall we do the deed?" You must remember that Chameleons are from South America, and Texas is technically still N. America, but the Texan valiantly strove to fulfill her unstated wish. The Aussie came to his assistance instantly. "This cat's turning green," he observed, "Can we find a place for him to wash his face?" She smiled with a gratification she had not enjoyed since never, and suggested the local firehouse. As they drove the truck slowly to the firehouse, the Texan lay helpless in the bed, numb with shock. Before they got there, Melbourne and Andrea had agreed that Paris was the only place they could bear to wed, and that this must be accomplished before the next full moon, or the deal was off. It was warm, and the Aussie worked the hydrant, while Andrea used a rock to redirect the torrent; the Texan was soon revived and standing beside a sparkling clean truck. It was Andrea's turn to show initiative, and she brightly suggested a Hummer Limo, in place of a crowded pickup cabin for the trip to Paris. Having recovered his aplomb, the Texan volunteered to Chauffeur IF the Aussie paid. The Aussie dutifully shelled a clam, and they were off to Paris on I-45, pickup behind them on a tow-bar. It had been a while since the Texan had enjoyed his solitude alone, and he was happy in spite of himself. For his part, the Aussie was glibly carrying on one of those fascinating conversations accomplished only by asking questions of his intended. She soon had him up to date on the family history of all the Sheilas in Texas, their hometowns and professional ambitions, with not a little attention to the highway signs of soft shoulders, dangerous curves, a high water sign, and a slippery when wet. When they passed a a deer crossing sign, his mind turned to husbandry, and he exclaimed "They should COVER that one," out of sheer embarrassment. After a while she began to ply him with probing questions in return. He was oafish at first, and all he could think of was military applications of Hummers, but she was an experienced conversationalist and he was soon as laid back with her as he has been on the promontory back in Iceland, gazing at the Otters in their native home. She then explained to him that although they were ascending I-45, he was truly best called a .44 caliber man in Texas. He was so delighted he nearly shed his skin.

And then they were in Paris. The Texan stretched his legs, and opened the door from the outside. Sheila was the first one out, camera in hand, looking like any other tourist. "Sam, you look short for your height... can I take your picture?" The Texan drew a pensive breath. He relaxed his puffed out chest, and stretched his girth. "Is that why all my friends keep yelling 'GROW' when they throw a frisbee too high?" he asked. Before she could reply, Melbourne was at her side. "Don't rub salt in an open wound, Sheila," he growled kindly. "His own mother once said he embarrasses the camera!" "How can anyone embarrass a camera?" inquired Andrea archly. "Well, ma'am," the Texan already knew the answer, "The camera represents me all faithful like, and folks look at the picture later and say 'That camera did him WRONG!'." This had been her goal all along, and Andrea added, "Please do the honors for Melbourne and me then." The shutter clicked more than once before she was happy. When Andrea went to powder her nose for a minute, the Aussie asked the Texan, "I know what a Soft shoulder Sign stands for, and a Dangerous Curves sign. What on EARTH does a 'High Water' sign mean?" The Texan smiled, because he was glad his friend would learn that upwards of 9 inches of running water would wash a reasonably air tight car away in a flood, "It means 'Turn Around - Don't Drown'," he said. The Aussie did not immediately register appreciation, but his Texan friend was familiar with difficulty grasping the concept. Andrea returned, and they set off for the Zoo.

To understand the attraction you must observe two things - one, that the zoo is not a notable tourist trap, and two, that the Aussie really was a devoted naturalist, and his Sheila wanted to make him very happy. The first exhibit was an Ant-eater. The Aussie noted his long prehensile tongue, that could go anywhere, good for eating as for licking. They wandered around, passing a long-necked Tortoise exhibit. "Look familiar?" he asked his audience. "It's just like a regular turtle," he explained, "but this one SNAPS." They rode a mono-rail tram around, and Andrea busily clicked away at various habitats, the Ibex particularly catching her attention as it popped a "wheely" chasing its mate. The rhinoceros, the Aussie compared to a Unicorn. It really does have a horn in the middle of it's forehead, he observed. "Do you know that the Chinese sell rhino horn scrapings as an aphrodisiac?" "No," the Texan admitted, "What makes them want to eat what amounts to finger nail scrapings?" The Aussie was glad to have an impressionable audience for his story. "On the open Savanna of Africa, if you are camping and a Rhino sees your campfire, he will charge the camp and stomp it out vigorously. The Chinese reason that because of all the fire's he's stomped out, he must have a credit balance of passion in the Cosmic ATM of heat, and they expect to get the benefit upon consumption. I've tried it, before and after Viagra. It works MUCH better AFTER Viagra." The Texan couldn't resist asking, "What were you using Viagra for?" "I was breeding Rhino's in captivity," the Aussie explained. "I decided to farm them because they were becoming rare, and had no small success in my own right. There are still smugglers in Africa who would rather pay me for a surgically removed Rhino horn, than hunt down a wild Rhino for themselves." He did not add that the money had been rather helpful in a surfing competition. What they didn't know could only hurt them in a Military sense. The trio moved on to a menagerie, and regarded the colorful parrots with delight... the Aussie assuring his two buddies that the birds were quite unaware of defecation. The big cats were a new trepidation - the Lion could bound a hundred yards in three seconds from a standstill, and the Aussie was clear that a misfired rifle was an invitation to meet the Pride. He explained that cats were superior breeders, since the female never went out of estrus once she became fertile. Dead or alive, baby cats were coming. The snake exhibits were still ahead, and upon arrival Andrea shivered deliciously. Melbourne explained that of the thousands of snake varieties in the world, there were only 14 poisonous kinds, and that in any geographic range, there were at most three to worry about. "What three are here in Texas?" Andrea inquired. "Rattle snakes, Cotton Mouths and a variety of Viper or Adder," he informed them nonchalantly. "The remarkable thing about Rattlers is that they are born with poison in their glands, and their bite is bitter from the egg, but whatever living animal they see first thing, they think THAT is their mother, just like Alligators... Invaluable when impressing tourists in their natural habitat; they don't ever try to hurt their mother." The Texan was able to add to the discussion about Rattlers. "Rattlers strike at a heat source," he intoned. "Since living things generate heat, this saves them all manner of mistakes, including lizards. My Grandpa had a theatrical trick he used to pull whenever my Aunts came over. He'd pick up a hot rock, that had been laying in the sun, and throw it hard as he could near as he could get it to the Rattlers head. Nine times out of Ten, that Rattler would hit the rock in mid-air. Then he'd turn to anyone watching and say 'Evolve,' in a significant voice. He was a trip that way."

Andrea asked the obvious question as they walked up to the Cobra exhibit. "Where did these Cobras come from?" The occidental tourist smiled and replied gently, "This IS a zoo! The King Cobra (the long black one, without a hood,) is also poisonous from the egg. It doesn't imprint though, so don't do anything foolish with the babies. The others all have HOODs, just like a jersey, and this comes up over their heads when they become erect. They have to become erect to strike, and the hood is their mechanism to warn, just as the rattler has his rattle. We all know that if you suck the poison out soon enough after a bite, they don't kill, but it's not a very smart experiment. Much better to milk them before they bite. The most common one is that tan one over there... the Spectacled Cobra. His hood has a 'V' for victory on it. Other varieties are the Monocled kind, and the Spitting one, that spits its venom straight into your eyes." "I bet they taste like Chicken, same as Rattlers," the Texan volunteered. They made an obligatory appearance at the Otter run, but the Aussie had seen enough Otters that tame ones didn't engage him like a wild family would. Andrea unwrapped a butterscotch hard candy, and told them she was testing herself for nervousness by not biting it until it dissolved completely.

As they returned to the Hummer, Andrea was feeling a little overwhelmed. "Did you know I lost my virginity to a full grown HORSE," she asked Melbourne for shock value. It was his turn to emulate a Chameleon, while the Texan chuckled and looked on unaffected. "She's trying to tell you that she lost it riding astride at an early age on the ranch," he volunteered. "Were you riding bareback, or had you already learned not to be saddle sore?" he inquired. She grinned and put a piece of gum in her mouth. Not to be outdone, he turned to Melbourne and continued mercilessly. "What kind of steer do you know has the widest horns?" he asked. "The Hereford, the Angus or the Brahma?" The Aussie saw this one coming and answered correctly, "The Longhorn, you jackass." He wasn't in a very humorous mood. "Go Beevo," he egged him on. Andrea took offense, and put in her two-cents worth. "You UT guys think you're all that," she noted. "Where would Beevo be without an Aggie Vet?" The Texan gave her his best six-gun stare and she averted her gaze. He was gentle, but he wasn't harmless. "Let's sleep in and not break camp till after 10 AM," he told a dusty golden sunset. Andrea and Melbourne shared a happy glance.