I read the news today, oh boy...

I read the news today, oh boy...

   Heavy guilt had gripped me for days. Sleep was awfully scarce and not terribly restful. Dance was impossible because guilty feet have got no rhythm.

    I was having a horrible time wrestling with my conscience over whether I should go through with the request made by a relatively new acquaintance who sold me some life insurance. All this guy was asking from me was a kidney, my spleen and my liver in case he ever needed any of them. 

    Yes, I thought it kind of weird a perfectly healthy guy would want ‘back-up organs’, but being in insurance I’m sure he just looked at it as a safeguard. I had to admire that sort of foresight.

    I also thought it odd he’d ask me, a man he barely knew, to donate my organs on his behalf. He only knew me well enough to sell me a pricey insurance policy, for crying out loud! But, I did admire the fact he was persistent in pursuit of my innerds. That kind of moxie shows a winner, and who doesn’t like a winner?!

    The more I thought about it, the more flattered I became. He wanted MY organs in case he ever needed some. Pieces of me could complete him. I would be the winner he is. That’s a pretty high compliment when you think about it, and I thought about it a lot.

    So I made up my mind: I’d do it. I’d go ahead and get my organs cut out and put on ice for this guy who must have been an angel or something sent to test me. I mean, things happen for a reason, right?

    The morning I was scheduled to see my doctor and make the request to have him perform the procedures, I walked out to the driveway in my bathrobe and picked up the newspaper. I opened the paper, glanced at the headlines and slowly started walking back up the drive. The following words stopped me cold in my tracks: “Man Dies In Freak Accident”. Below the headline was a picture of my man, the guy who sold me insurance and wanted my organs for his life-extending insurance.

    I stood on the driveway transfixed as I read the tragic tale. The man, who shall remain nameless– no, strike that, let’s call him Mr. John Doe Anonymous NoNamer, Jr., was walking down the street when a flatbed truck carrying an antique trolley car to a museum in Birmingham, Alabama, was hit at an intersection by a garbage truck. The trolley car broke loose, toppled off the truck and crushed poor Mr. John Doe Anonymous NoNamer, Jr., killing him instantly. Dead men need no organs. I was saved.

    A cool breeze brought me back to reality. I was standing on my driveway reading a newspaper and a breeze had blown my bathrobe open. An elderly woman walking her terrier stood staring at me. I looked down, I was naked beneath my open robe. Clutching the bathrobe quickly, I tied the belt, shot her a cold stare and spoke sharply, “Good day, madame!” I pivoted  and ran quickly into our house as her dog barked.

    I wonder if Mr. John Doe Anonymous NoNamer, Jr. had insurance.