Salem, my little brother, staggers into the living room, swaying to and fro.
“Are you on the “nip” again?”
“Oh,” he swoons and places his paw to his forehead dramatically, “I’m wounded. You have to help me,” and he lays out on the floor in front of me moaning softly.
I look him over seeing no obvious signs of injury. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s my paw. It hurts real bad.” He raises a feeble paw up for me to inspect.
I look it over. “Ah, I see.” Stuck in the pad of his front right paw is a tiny Lego. I shake my head solemnly, “Well, we might be able to save the leg.”
Salem lets out another moan and looks as though he might faint. He closes his eyes. I smile.
“Any last words? You know, just in case?”
He comes to for a second and moans louder. I peel off the Lego and toss it aside.
“Okay. It was touch and go for a moment but I’ve done it. I’ve saved your leg,” I lower my voice, “and your life.”
Salem opens his eyes and smiles at me. “Oh man, you’re the best brother in the world. I’ll never mess with you again.” And he trots off happy to be alive.
Yeah, I did that. I gave him the gift of a near death experience because he’s my brother and I love him.
I later bill him five tuna treats for my services.