Archive for November 3rd, 2007

I died for Sharon

Grandad November 3rd, 2007

I mentioned my death recently.

Herself needed to tests done in hospital. So I brought her in. The tests were only supposed to take twenty minutes or so, so I wasn’t bothered.

However,the best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men, gang aft agley, and it transpired that the tests would take a bit longer.

I found myself a relatively quiet corner with a reasonably soft seat that didn’t cut the arse off me and took out the paper. I skipped the news and headed for the Sudoku. This was a mistake.

Sudoku has a strange effect on me. It makes me fall asleep. Instantly. It must be some form of self hypnosis. And I hadn’t been sleeping well for the previous few nights, so I was quite tired. Needless to say, I fell asleep immediately.

It was a very deep sleep and a lovely one. I had some beautiful dreams. I finally had Sharon Ní Bheoláin where I wanted her and she had me where she wanted me - flat on my back without a stitch on me. It was just getting to the really interesting bit [you can work that out for yourselves], when I was kicked by a horse. At least that is what it felt like.

I woke up to find myself on a table, surrounded by doctors and nurses. The doctors were all looking concerned while the nurses where all admiring the obvious upstanding result of my dream. One of the doctors had a couple of paddles pressed against my chest.

“We thought we’d lost you there” he said in glee.

“What the f*ck are you at?” I roared. “Sharon was just getting down to business!”

“You had a heart attack in the waiting room and we have resuscitated you” says he.

“My b*ll*x” says I, “I was just having a nice kip, and you try to electrocute me. It has taken me ages to get Sharon to that point, and you’ve f*cked it up”

He looked annoyed. He expected me to be grateful and here I was, rightly p*ssed. They gave me my clothes back. I went back to the waiting room, hung a large sign around my neck saying “I’m asleep - not dead” and tried to get back to Sharon, who was doubtlessly waiting for me.

But they had shot me full of adrenaline, and I couldn’t get back.

I’m sorry, Sharon. I did my best.

Another time?