The Color Drained

The color drained from my face - It was definitely happening.

I’d been watching TV: an old movie called Zulu, with Michael Cain. Work had been tough and I wanted to unwind, so I thought I’d get a pizza, crack open a beer and sit back with Michael and the lads, watching them defend Rorke's Drift.

The plan was going well and my tension was rising as the battle heated up and thoughts of work just vanished from my mind.

And then the geezer with the spear stopped what he was doing, and asked me for a slice of pizza. Well he didn’t exactly ask, he just said:” Did you get anchovies with that?”

I stared at the TV, not knowing what to say. And then the bloke said: “Are you gonna share, or what?”

Realizing that I’d just spilt my beer, I jumped up forgetting all about the guy on TV. Cursing my luck I went to get a cloth from the kitchen, and when I returned I found the guy climbing out of the TV, spear in hand.

Swearing loudly I collapsed on the floor with a heart attack. But it wasn’t over…

Next thing I knew the guy with the spear and George Clooney were giving me CPR, and the TV had changed to an episode of ER.

“Lucky Dr Ross was on the other side.” Said the man with the spear. “He says you’ll be fine now, but he asked if he could have a slice of pizza as well?”

Conceding the point, I told the TV guys to help themselves and felt a welcome sense of ease. I realized that there’s no point worrying, because you never know what might happen next.

THE END

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