Warning: graphic, dark-humor truth. He would have laughed. You might, too. You might not, though.
Peripherally, I spied Jeff’s ever-present mega-jug from Speedway on his night table. I tested the weight out, concluding there was water in it.
Actually, I didn’t conclude there was water – I really just concluded liquid. It likely could have been what I call soda or what he called pop. I assumed it was water, which is why I decided to pull the lid off the monster mug and dump the entire contents on Jeff’s head.
It was water.
There wasn’t as much of it as I’d thought.
It certainly wasn’t the deluge I was hoping for.
He didn’t wake up sputtering.
“Are you doing it?” the operator asked, referring to the mirror test she’d requested.
“Oh, my God!” I cried. “How did this happen? He’s not waking up! How could this have happened?”
Almost out-of-body, hearing myself and thinking; cliché. Soap opera style dramatics.
Frozen, fleetingly, I wondered: was drama reenactment of reality or was my reality a reflection drama?
Sensing my conclusion, I was assured, the ambulance was on the way. She said she’d remain on the line until it arrived.
Having endured Jeff’s preference for based-on-true-events TV, I’d either half-watched or got completely sucked into countless crime-solving and autopsy shows.
A horrifying scenario popped into my still grappling brain.
“They’re going to think I drowned him!”
“Oh, my God!” I blurted aloud, in response to my silent reasoning. I scooted around the bed.
“Do you hear the ambulance?” The voice surprised me out of my own head. I was shocked to find I was still holding my phone – firmly plastered to my ear.
“No. I don’t.” I replied. Swiping a washcloth from the counter, I scrambled back to Jeff.
I used the maroon square to swipe Jeff’s wet face and hair.
My inner dialog continued. “Oh, no! If he starts breathing, inhaling water could kill him!”
I pushed a small corner through the tiny opening between his teeth, trying to sop up any of the gushed liquid that might have run into his mouth.
“They should be there soon…” came consolingly over the line.
Well past the verge of hysteria, another terrifying possibility crossed my mind.
“Oh, my GOD!” I wailed, wildly recalling the frequency with which the tiniest of fibers had helped solve mysteries and finger murderers.
Fortunately, only heard within the confines of my scrambling head, my error screamed, “They’re going to think I smothered him!”
Quote for the Week: 
knabble 