One of my courses is more Australian than most. It’s called Australia’s Terrestrial Environment, but most of the students and faculty here just know it as the Tourist Class. We talk about the Australian flora and fauna in the vaguest terms possible for the scientifically disinclined. Then we go on trips. Easy enough.
We’re doing a class on the local lizards, which is enough to drag my lazy ass out of bed early (I consider making an 11am class early). But to my pleasant surprise, the professor has brought two skinks, one in each arm.
No, I said skinks. S-K-I-N-K. See for yourself:
Anyway, he puts them in a plastic tank, and gets on with the lecture. I can’t pay attention, because I’m antsily waiting for the inevitable moment he passes them out.
Dragons, geckos, goannas, hurry the fuck up!
Finally, we get to skinks, and the moment we’re all waiting for. Because for once in my life I’m sitting in the front row, he goes to hand one to me first. But he gives me a quick warming:
“They’re so used to being handled, they won’t put up a threat display or bite. However, they might piss a little.”
As soon as I get it in my hands, his premonition comes true. Just a few droplets. Two on my notebook page, two on my desk. I smear the page and leave a yellow streak over the definition of heliotherms. I mop up the other two drops with the elbow of my shirt.
After petting it and loving it and wishing it was mine, I pass it on to the girl next to me. Apparently, the skink was not done being intimidated, as it released another few drops on her desk. Then, just to be kind, it releases a small nugget of white feces.
Then the dam breaks. A torrent of piss streams out of this lizard at a remarkable rate. The little drops quickly turn into a large puddle filling out desk. No longer or fatter than my forearm, and its already given off a piss like a good night of drinking. Our books vacate our desk faster than Elton John at an Exodus conference.
Then it goes to take another little shit. A turtlehead peaks out of its cloaca and hangs there. I wait a few seconds, then tap it at the base of the tail to dislodge the turd. In response, it magnifies tremendously, growing to be almost half its body length before bellyflopping into the puddle of piss and splashing us.
And just for amusement, it resumes pissing. For a good 20 seconds more, doubling the respectable puddle it already made.
The whole class is staring at us, and apparently has been for the past minute or so. I look at my watch. “We can wait…” I tell the ungrateful squamata.
Finally it stops, and my neighbor gratefully passes it on to the next girl. She’d been holding it in her hands the entire time, enjoying the front row seat. Her initial look of horror had long since been replaced by droll resignation.
The professor watched the whole spectacle from the front with a bemused smirk on his face. Had he seen this coming?
“This is just preparing you for motherhood,” he says.
Meanwhile, I enjoy the rest of the day with a fragrant elbow. Two drops of piss was stronger than any cologne, and frankly, it wasn’t too bad of a scent.
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