IN CASE OF MY DEMISE
I’m not sure why, but I think Mrs. C is trying to kill me. I may be a jerk, but I don’t think that should be a capital offense.
There is a deathtrap in our bedroom!
It is disguised as a piece of exercise equipment but it is in fact a deathtrap. It has never been used as a piece of exercise equipment so it must serve this other nefarious purpose.
The “Exercise equipment” is a “stomach toner.” It has toned zero stomachs.
This is the deathtrap.
|Mrs. Cranky's deathtrap|
Here is the most devious part of the deathtrap…the seat swivels.
|Deathtrap seat in full swivel|
I walk around the deathtrap and open both windows.
“Check this out; you won’t believe how ugly this brides dress is!”
The TV which is tuned to “Four Weddings” (I know!) is several yards away from the death trap and on a slight angle. Not wanting to miss an ugly wedding dress (I know!) I quickly turn from the windows and step to where I can see the TV.
My ankle hits the ankle-grabbing deathtrap leg and sends my upper body forward while my lower body is unable to move as it is caught in the deathtrap ankle-grabber.
No reason to panic, as there is a seat I can grab and hold onto in order to regain my balance.
I grab the seat, and the seat, as it has been cleverly designed to do, swivels in the direction of my sprawling body allowing for absolute zero resistance to break my fall.
“WHAT THE FUCK!!”
Now the deathtrap has also been set from the bed, the exact distance of a 5’10” man’s falling body length so that his (my) forehead will smash into the solid oak bed frame.
I think not.
Amazingly enough, this 68 year old man still has enough flexibility along with the reflexes of a cat…a very, very old cat to be sure, to be able to tuck and roll and barely avoid the intended fate of the deathtrap. Still, a slightly overweight sixty-eight year old man falling hard is not a pretty sight.
Bruised but not broken I immediately told Mrs. Cranky,
“This piece of shit has got to go before it kills someone!”
“No way; I need that to keep my girlish figure.”
“When have you ever used it?”
“Well I plan to use it.”
“It’s been there for five years and almost killed me three times. Could we at least put it in the basement?”
“If it’s in the basement I’ll never use it.”
“You never use it now!”
“But I plan to use it, and it’s staying right where it is, just learn to step around it.”
If anything happens to me, don’t believe Mrs. Cranky…accident hell!
And she calls me a jerk!