3:20 p.m. - 2005-03-15
worth repeating
This is one of the funniest things I've read in a long time. It's a bit risque, but it's funny enough to be worth it, I think.
"I think I'm going to have a seizure!" Ken yelled. He was inside of me and I laughed. We'd known each other since college and our decade-long flirtation had combusted at a Halloween party earlier that night. We were having sex for the fourth time in six hours and I assumed he was kidding. When he began violently jerking up and down, I realized this wasn't mere flattery. Suppressing an urge to freak out, I rolled him onto his back, reached for the phone and called 911.
"911. What's your emergency?" the dispatcher asked.
"My friend's having a seizure," I responded, simultaneously moving a pillow between Ken's head and the wall.
"Do you know what caused it? Were drugs or alcohol involved?"
"Um, no. He had a beer or two eight hours ago," I paused. "But we've been having a lot of sex." I thought I heard her snicker.
"What's your address? We're sending an ambulance."
I lodged another pillow underneath Ken's head and pulled on jeans and a sweater. Minutes later, I answered the door and showed two paramedics to my bedroom. Ken was still convulsing and there was blood around his mouth.
They stabilized Ken and administered oxygen. One of them asked me, "Where are his clothes? We need to take him to the hospital."
"He doesn't live here," I replied. "All he has is his dog costume."
One, then the other, began laughing and couldn't stop. I was horrified.
Then I started laughing, too. Mercifully, Ken was still only semi-conscious.
As we wiped our eyes, one of them asked, "Do you know which hospital his insurance covers? Where should we take him?"
I called our friend, Mike, for the insurance info and gave him a truncated version of events. He rushed to my place and we followed Ken and the ambulance to Swedish Hospital.
Unbeknownst to me, Mike had called Ken's mom, who ran to us as we entered the emergency room. It was 6:00 a.m., Sunday, and she'd just seen paramedics wheel her son, dressed as a dog, into an exam room.
She put her hand on my shoulder. "What were you doing when Ken had his seizure?" I bit my cheeks.
"Were you having breakfast?" she asked, scared and oblivious. I couldn't answer. I knew if I opened my mouth, I'd laugh 'till I choked.
"Yes, Mrs. Crutcher. They were having breakfast," Mike reassured her.
