Alas, Fez the gecko has passed. It happened quickly in the night. We think. Or perhaps it happened days ago. geckos don't move much, really. He coulda been dead for days.
We're currently visiting the family in CT, and staying at my sister's house. This morning, as I was finishing up my shower, I happened to look out the window to see my twelve-year-old niece Tova walking across the back yard with a small box in her hands. She seemed to be searching for something. My first thought was she was looking for bugs to feed Fez and his lady-gecko-friend. But then I saw Tova's dad following behind, carrying a shovel. Uh Oh. Any time a dad with a shovel follows a kid with a box, it can only mean tragedy.
I quickly threw on my clothes and shoes and headed outside, in time to witness the first shovelfuls of dirt being laid atop the cigar-box coffin containing Fez, the gecko with a sex drive that knew no boundaries. Tova then disappeared around the corner, came back with flowers and laid them atop the gravesite. She finished it off with stones, spelling out Fez's name in the gravel. It was all very touching. Tears flowed, we said Kaddish, dads thought about wasted money on gecko surgery, and older sisters thought about weirdo younger sisters. A classic tale.
It seems that, after Fez had impregnated Art again last week with twins, Art decided she's had enough of this trailer-trash, stay-at-home-mom lifestyle. Evidence showed that she offed Fez by burying his water bowl, forcing him into massive dehydration. Whether there was an insurance policy to collect, or perhaps another younger, peppier, and perhaps richer gecko with even bigger testicles off to the side, only time will tell. But it meant the end of Fez, and most likely another trip to the pet store for dad.
Here lies Fez.
Fez was a gecko.
A gecko with big balls.
Huge balls. And an inside-out-ass.
Father of three.
Husband to Art.
Fez lived a good, but short life. Got his groove on at least twice.
Rest in peace, Fez