*** A 60-second story? Yes. Time is valuable, and attention spans are minimal, so I created this series of stories you can read in a minute or less. Please subscribe for more shorts! ***
“Is it hot in here?” Marge asked, pulling at her collar. “Oh, Murray! Come over here and feel my forehead, will you? It’s broiling, right?”
“Feels normal to me,” Murray said flatly as he sat back in his chair.
His wife fanned herself with last month’s issue of Town and Country and allowed herself to sink deeper into the couch cushions.
“Really? Are you sure? Because my cheeks,” she said, touching one with the back of a plump little hand, “they’re burning up like a potbelly stove!”
Marge stared at the shadowy reflection staring back from the underside of the plate-glass coffee table. “I look flush, Murray. I know I say this a lot, but I swear — this time is different. I feel sick. Very sick.”
Murray removed his glasses and wiped the lenses with a handkerchief, which he then used to snatch a string of mucous dripping from the tip of his nose.
With a big sigh, he addressed his wife. “Honey, you’re working yourself into a fit. Don’t you remember what Dr. Kellerman said during your last visit? It’s psychosomatic. The whole thing is in your head.”
“He told me I have high blood pressure,” she blurted out.
“So do I!” Murray shouted back. “So does half of this damn country! Diabetes, cancer, stroke — we’re all ticking time bombs!”
“I’m scheduling another appointment,” she said, reaching for the phone. “They’ll run some more tests.”
Murray stood up and stamped his foot. “The insurance won’t cover another appointment! Marge, you must stop this madness at once. It’s driving me insane! I can’t take—”
Suddenly Murray cringed and began clawing at his chest, his face turning a lurid shade of crimson.
“Murray? Murray!” she shrieked. “What’s wrong?”
“Christ! Call an ambulance. I think I’m having a heart attack!”