Free Stuck with a Spell by D. D. Scott Page B

struggled to comprehend what had just happened to
me.
    One minute I’m sitting in my favorite
Manhattan eatery enjoying my entree, and the next thing I know, I
feel this incredible burning sensation pressing into my neck,
almost as if I was being strangled. But how could I be in the
middle of being strangled? No one was close enough to me to have
their hands around my neck.
    I’d gasped, feeling a gigantic rush of
air mix with the fire and heat pressing into my skin. Then another
gasp, which caused a giant ham bone to lodge in my
esophagus.
    I can just imagine the headlines in
tomorrow’s Post:
     
    Top New York Literary
Agent Hank Aldredge Chokes on a Ham Bone
     
    That ought to sell some papers plus get
quite a few click throughs for the online version. And I could use
the publicity. Positive or negative.
    Checking the readings on the gazillion
machines I was attached to, a nurse interrupted my gossip rag
reel.
    “ Now no worries, Mr.
Aldredge, one of our Patient Care Representatives is in the process
of getting ahold of your wife,” she said, while tapping my IV tube
to get the liquid flowing.
    Shit! I’d forgotten to update my
insurance forms regarding my new ICE person. There was no way my
ex, Samantha, would give a rat’s ass that I’d almost choked to
death. And she definitely wouldn’t want to still be my emergency
contact. Hell, she’d be disappointed she wasn’t responsible for my
death.
    It wasn’t as if I could stop ‘em from
contacting her though, especially with this stupid tube down my
throat.
    Trying to get the nurse’s attention, I
grunted. Oh God did that hurt.
    I then flailed my arms as much as I
could amidst the yards of plastic connected to my extremities. The
results of that effort? The nurse simply cranked up my meds
dispenser, mumbled how sorry she felt for me and left the
room.
    I was sooo fucked. Good thing I wasn’t
on life support. If I was, once they got in touch with Samantha,
she’d have ‘em pull the plug.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    “ H ow did a gorgeous little thing like you decide to go into
nursing?” I used my ultra suave Darryl Riley, sweet talking skills
to jump start a conversation with the hot young thing checking my
bandages.
    I’d always been brilliant at sweet
talk. Ask anyone. Except for my ex. Don’t ask her. Nothing I did
sat well with Liza.
    Seeing how much extra attention my
condition warranted made me wonder if I should always be so vain.
Perhaps not looking my best and being less than GQ ready had its
advantages. This might just be another fantastic way to pick up
great-looking chicks.
    But wow, talk about a rather sobering
experience. I was lucky to still be able to pick-up chicks period.
Thank God for the fact I used plenty of product in my hair.
According to my doctors, that’s the only thing that had saved
me.
    Decapitated. Oh my God! I can’t believe
I was almost decapitated!
    If it hadn’t have been for my
super-strength Menscience hair-styling pomade, it would have been
an “off with my head” moment.
    “ That bitch! What a total
bitch!”
    I blasted off with the first Queen of
Hearts endearment, way too loud for a hospital environment. But
with the second proclamation, I damn near catapulted myself right
out of my intensive care, burn center unit bed.
    “ Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Riley,
did I hurt you?” My bodacious blond bombshell of a nurse asked,
looking as if I’d mortally wounded her by using the
B-word.
    “ Not you, Sweetheart. I’m
sorry. No, definitely not you, Baby.”
    But just wait till I get ahold of my
Bitch of an Ex, I thought. I never should have married that
witch!
    Screw the fact she made my nurse look
like nothing special. Liza Spitznogle may be a real looker, but
she’s also bat shit crazy. So damn crazy, I’d bet that my now fried
scalp had something to do with one of that psychotic bitch’s
hexes.
    Well, she’d tried to hex me. I was sure
of it. But none of her stupid-ass Voodoo spells ever worked like
they were supposed