Sadly, the lizard situation at my home does not end well.

I spend most of my waking hours staring out my window at “Craig,” a horny brown anole lizard.

In one of my previous email newsletters, I wrote about how I spent most of my waking hours staring out my backyard window at “Craig,” a horny brown anole lizard who climbs onto my bicycle fender to preen for the ladies. Well, that's all over now.

When it comes to anole lizards, I was on “Team Craig.”

Craig, getting it on with some lizard ho. (You should probably look away.)

I must confess, I'd been enjoying, championing, and cheering on Craig, encouraging both his success with the opposite sex (I presume), and the huge consumption of annoying insects needed to achieve his impressive size and virility.

During one of the many hours I spent gazing at him out my window, I became curious to learn more about his species and googled my little new friend. That turned out to be a mistake. A very big mistake.

My anole lizard friend had secrets—dark and sinister ones.

Craig on my bike fender.

According to Google, my brown anole lizard was actually an illegal immigrant! Craig was living here in without a green card, stealing lizard jobs from hard-working, indigenous green anole ! Brown anole lizards aren't native to America, they're native to ! That's right, Craig is a dirty, stinking communist, too.

You like this guy, Craig? Do you, Craig?!?

Honestly, I probably should've known something was odd when I asked him if life could get any better, and he suggested “a socioeconomic order structured around common of the means of production as well as the absence of wage labor, social classes, and the state.” At the time, I just figured he was really drunk.

Try to imagine my sense of betrayal, if you even can.

I think he thinks the bike lock cable is female.

Learning the truth about Craig was tough—we'd spent so much time together, I felt like I knew him. I felt like we had a friendship that transcended species. One that rose above any differences we might have in musical tastes, favorite sports teams, or most delicious insects.

But it was all bullshit and lies. Did he really not like Maroon 5? Was he just pretending to be a Bucs' fan?! Does he not love cockroaches?!? I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust another squamata again.

Ultimately, I did the only thing any real would do: I ratted him out to Homeland .

I'm going to miss that adorable anole lizard and commie bastard.

Doesn't look like an FBI vehicle at all, right?

It's just a matter of time now before the Feds pull up in an unmarked panel van, flash-bomb my condo, throw a hood over Craig's head, and whisk him off to a CIA black-site in Chechnya where they'll do who-knows-what to him.

Sure, it's a horrible fate, and I do feel a tiny bit responsible for it but electroshock and water-boarding is what you get when you toy with my emotions, Craig!

Bon voyage, dickhead.

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