Herbie pulled up in the old grey Dodge, “Bird” as named by his best friend, George; Turning the handle on the garage, he pulled up the door and went inside, scuffing into his workshop, and placed his worn tool bag on the bench, all the while thinking about what might be going on with him, coughing so much and feeling such a hard time with breathing; lighting up another one of his unfiltered he took a draw and slowly blow a stream of smoke before another hack came on, “these damn things are getting the best of me, maybe I oughta give them up,” he snuffed the butt since there was some more left for later and closing the garage door, he went inside the house.
Scents of cinnamon and apples greeted Herbie before he could enter the house and he smiled, knowing his dear wife, Clarabelle, had made his favorite dessert of apple pie; opening the door, he saw her standing at the stove, unaware he entered; easing up behind her, but being ever so careful she was not in danger of getting burned he reached around her waist and gave her a squeeze and a peck on her warm, red cheek, to which she giggled and said, “hi, honey, how was your day?”
“It was pretty good, we got old man Fletcher’s barn door fixed and I don’t think he’ll have any escaped cows anymore, ‘course that’ll mean no more cream for us when we rescue another stray, but that’s okay.”
“Well, we will be okay without so much free cream; my hips are getting too wide as it is.”
“Clair, my love, you know I love your hips and everything they’re attached to, so don’t you go talking that silliness, as long as we stay healthy, we have no worries,” patting her hips, letting out another hack, Herbie excused himself and went to the bathroom to wash up for supper; it looked like chicken and dumplings, and that was a good enough reason to scrub extra hard.
Tending to the chicken and dumplings, Clarabelle thought to herself, I hope he will be open to going to the doctor for that cough, there is not enough whiskey honey to solve that problem, and she felt her eyes water and felt she was being watched, just then she turned around and there he was, on the floor, passed out from lack of breath; she quickly called an ambulance and stayed by his side, and when they arrived, they could get him to breathing, but took him in to the hospital, assuring Clarabelle, that they would do all they could to help him and she grabbed her purse and took off right behind them, with prayers that her faith, unfiltered, would carry him through, and she believed it did.
And there you have it! This is my Six Sentence Story for this week! Would you like to join us? Go to this LINK and check it out!