THE TELL-TALE HEART WITH A SIDE OF HONEY ON IT

Before I get to the pounding heart I need to tell you why I *think* I was being hounded. You see, a week ago, Honey went to bed earlier than me. This is VERY unusual and I’m not used to it. So when I went to bed as I normally do, I inadvertently poisoned him a little. Swear! It was barely a mist. Geez, by the time he choked and sputtered I immediately stopped spritzing my aromatic spray. In fact, I hid the bottle behind my back when he shot into a sitting position and gasped for breath.  *insert me standing by the side of the bed whistling while I watch the ceiling fan blades turn* Then imagine him growling as he tries to draw in air and me skirting the issue when he demands to know what happened, by telling him he probably swallowed a bug. I didn’t even blush with the fib when he flopped backed down and demanded, “and what the hell is that smell? Did you just wash your hair or something?”
Well, I hadn’t, but it was true the spray did remind me of really great shampoo or the scent you enjoy when you’re at the spa. Anyway, point is, the poor guy was nearly taken out by one of my nightly rituals and he didn’t even know it. The perfect scenario, right? Wrong. Karma is always ready to level the playing field in his direction and this time was no exception.
There I am lying in bed last night. I curl up on my right side and all I can hear is thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, so I rollover and it’s more, lub-dub, lud-dub, lud-dub. Ack! I know what the sound is. Yes, there’s no escaping the heart beating out of my chest, so I stay very still and try to measure my air intake. What the hell? It’s getting worse. Louder. Am I having a heart attack? Oh, god! I’m a goner. I’m just about ready to flip over and tell Honey to get the aspirin so the paramedics will have time to get to the house, when the beating sounds start coming closer. And closer. Was my heart moving up in my chest? Oh. My. God! Then it stopped and what did I do? I freaked out. Who wouldn’t? I mean, I hadn’t moved and… My heart stopped. I’m dead. But wait, I’m still thinking. *insert me doing a few seconds of WebMD here where I remind myself that the brain doesn’t die right away so I should use what little time I have left to say something to the love of my life. Yeah, like that woman in Signs did before they moved the car* so I rollover and that’s when I see him. He’s stretched out beside me, arm bent with his chin resting in the palm of his hand and he’s grinning. And me? I’m still alive and breathing, miraculously without a heartbeat. Hm. Then it occurs to me.
The creep!
Here’s the conversation:
Me, “That was you beating your fingers against the mattress, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” His grin slid into a smile.
“That wasn’t very nice. I thought I was dying.”
“Interesting. Perhaps like me the other night when you were spraying your frou-frou shite that nearly choked me to death?”
What could I say to that, but?  “Yes, exactly like that.” Then I turned my back on him and grumbled out another fib, “Next time I try to kill a bug hovering over you while you’re sleeping I’ll be sure to use Raid instead of my expensive fabric refresher.”
All he did was chuckle as he settled down to sleep because he knew as well as I did, that I just invited Karma back into my life. Crapatola! One of these days I’m going to learn, right? Right?
Riley