Friday morning the Post&Courier puts a section on fashion in the paper. I don’t care about fashion as everyone who sees me can attest to. However, it’s also the comic section. I picked it up and the fashion section this week is on beachwear. It was bikini babes. My heart stopped. I fell forward hitting the glass table top and breaking it.

“Hey!”, my wife yelled. I didn’t hear her since I was dead. She told me later that’s what she yelled.

“Hey! Why did you break that top? Answer me! Oh, no, you don’t. You ain’t dying on me until I get an answer.”

I didn’t answer her, being dead and all.

She decided to jump start my heart by compressing it. Her method was to jump on my chest with both feet. It certainly compressed my heart along with all the ribs on the left side and my spleen.

The emergency room doctor told me that she saved my life.

“I’ll admit that it was too much compression. A little more and your heart would have ruptured and you would have died. Of course, you were already dead, so there you go”.

I know if I tell my wife the truth about why my heart stopped she’d stop it again...permanently.